“Slag you. My sister was not a fiction. And neither is Liam. You think he’s a spy too?” I try to breathe the quick anger out, remember my sister, the smiles and warm embraces. “I am a Red of Lagalos. I am not working for the slavers.”
“No, of course not,” Theodora says. “The Society killed her mother. Isn’t that right, Lyria? They denied her the medication that would have saved her life.” I nod. At least she understands. I’d rather die than help the Society. “Her blood, along with so many others, is on their hands.”
“That’s right.”
“And the blood of your family is on the hands of the Republic.” My gut twists. “The Republic should have protected you.” Her eyes glisten with empathy. She leans forward. She understands. “We liberated you from the mines, promised you a new life. And then we let murderers take everything from you. We hurt you more than the Society ever could. Didn’t we?”
I wipe the tears of anger that fill my eyes.
“You’re right to blame us,” Theodora says softly. “You’re right to blame the Sovereign. Their deaths are her fault. So it’s only right you want revenge. Was it the Red Hand?”
“You aren’t listening to me!”
Daxo takes over. “They died because of her. Your father, your sister, your brother, your nieces and nephews. You wanted to hurt the Sovereign.”
“No!”
“To get her back because it was her fault. Her fault that they are dead. Her fault that you are alone. You blame her. Don’t you?”
“Yes, I blame her!” The rage oozes out of me, dark and nasty. “That bitch brought us up from the mines and put us in a camp to rot. The Red Hand took everything. And she didn’t stop ’em. She didn’t even try, ’cause she had bigger shit to worry about. Like birthday galas and walks in the bloody gardens. They’re dead because she promised freight she couldn’t deliver.” I stab a finger on the table. “But I’m not working for anyone. And I would never hurt a child.”
My composure cracks as the last word comes out. I’ve bottled it up inside, this anger, thought I could keep it down and forget the pain. But it wasn’t ever forgotten. Being closer to these people has made it worse. Philippe saw that something inside me is broken, and he used it. The Pink watches me with pitying eyes.
“Use the Oracle,” she says softly.
“The Oracle,” Niobe whispers.
“They have Pax and Electra,” Daxo replies. “You saw Father. What do you think they’re doing to them?” His mother’s shoulders slump. “It has to be done. Holiday, hold her down.”
The Gray hesitates. “Does the Sovereign know?”
“We are her council,” Theodora says. “You told Darrow you would protect his family. When he returns, do you want to tell him you failed?”
Holiday’s hands bruise my shoulders as she grabs me. Daxo reaches into the aquarium and pulls free the carved monster. Its legs claw at the air as he approaches me. The scent of its pale flesh is sweet, like candied almonds. Its scorpion tail is covered with a plastic cap and waves as it sees my exposed forearm. I shiver in fear, begging them to stop. They don’t listen. I knew this would happen. I knew the Sovereign would have her men peel me apart. But it doesn’t make the horror any easier. In Daxo’s other hand is a small knife. He draws a shallow wound on the underside of my forearm.
“Stop!” I beg. “Please! I’m telling the truth.”
“We will soon find out.”
The creature lunges for the blood and begins to suck. Its cold, slippery legs hug my arm like the fingers of an old woman. I jerk in horror, but go nowhere under Holiday’s hold. “Let us begin again,” Theodora says. “Who—”
“What are you doing?” an angry voice says from behind.
Niobe sweeps into a bow. Daxo follows, his less deep. “Virginia. The girl is intransigent,” he says. “We need what she knows.” I crane my neck around and see the Sovereign standing at the door in a tunic of white.
“Did I say you could torture her, Daxo?”
He meets her gaze without flinching. “There’s no need for you to see it. This is why you have us.”
“Because I’m such a frail flower that I need bold souls to do my torturing for me?” She sneers. “Niobe, even you?”
“After what was done to Kavax—”
“Yes. And what would he say about this?” She waits. Then, whipping out her razor, she storms to my side and grips the barbed tail of the creature sucking my blood. She stabs it in the back of the head. It screams like a human child, tail thrashing in her hand. She flings it to the ground, where it crawls and finally shudders to death. She turns on Theodora. “I told you to kill all those monsters. Years ago. Did you not hear me or is insolence now to be expected from my spymaster?”
“I preserved a litter,” Theodora says. “To protect your family I would do anything.”
“If Darrow were here…”