Augusta pursed her lips. “The Blackcoats.”

Beside me, Daxton scoffed. “Impossible. My advisers insist they don’t have the manpower or the resources.”

“Obviously they do,” snapped Celia. Augusta gave her a look I didn’t understand, but Celia kept her glare on Daxton.

“How?” he said. “None of the terrorists we’ve dealt with before had the capability or the means to pull off something like this. It takes resources that the lower ranks don’t have.”

“Clearly you must have pissed off the wrong people this time,” she said.

“Enough.” Augusta sat beside Greyson and smoothed the wrinkles of her dressing gown. Instead of moving away from her, like I expected, Greyson leaned against her, and she rubbed his back. “They are demanding you step aside as prime minister and allow real elections. Abolish the rank system. Allow the elderly and helpless to remain in society. The same absurdities as last time.”

I chanced a look at Celia, but her expression was as blank as ever. Those were the things that Lila had talked about in her speeches.

“I’ll have the Shields on it in the morning,” said Daxton. “It should be easy enough to track them down and squash all of this nonsense.”

Greyson sighed. “So why do we have to stay in the safe room? It’s not like they can get past the guards.”

“Caution, my dear,” said Augusta. “It would do us no good to purposely ignore the threat. Besides, if something happened to you, we would have no heir.”

“You’d have Lila,” he said. Apparently no one had bothered to tell him after all.

I watched him openly now, able to see in person similarities to the other Harts that weren’t evident in pictures or film. The way the corners of his mouth turned downward when he wasn’t talking. The way his forehead furrowed to make him look much more serious than his voice let on. He was definitely his father’s son, but there was a glint in his eyes that Daxton didn’t have, an intelligence that seemed to take in everything. Including the fact that I was staring.

I looked down at my hands, but it was too late. He’d already noticed.

“Perhaps,” said Augusta with a sniff. “However, you are my only remaining grandson, and I will not compromise your safety so you can waste the night tinkering with your toys.”

“They’re not toys,” he said, sitting up straighter now and shifting away from her. “They’re inventions, and they work. If you’d just come to my workshop for a few minutes and look—”

She raised her hand, and even though his anger was palpable, he fell silent, as if he’d expected her to cut him off. A father like Daxton and a grandmother like Augusta. At least I’d had Nina.

“I’d like to see your new inventions sometime, if you’ll let me,” said Celia warmly. “You must have come up with some interesting things in the past few weeks.”

“It’s been a while for me,” said Knox. “Lila, too.”

The way Knox looked at me made it clear I was expected to chime in. “Right,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’d like to see them, too.” I couldn’t imagine what Greyson could have invented that didn’t already exist, but that was why he was the one making things and I wasn’t.

Greyson bit his lip. “Yeah, all right. If they ever let us out of here.”

“Patience,” said Augusta. “It will do you a world of good.”

“Maybe so, but I still say we don’t get out of here until morning.”

Unfortunately Greyson was right. I managed a few restless hours of dozing, curled up in an uncomfortable position with Daxton snoring next to me, but as the night wore on, he inched closer and closer. When he threw his arm across my chest and settled his head on my shoulder, I gave up hope of getting any sleep.

It was nearly dawn by the time we were escorted back to our rooms with a stern warning from Augusta that none of us were to leave Somerset. My time to find Benjy before his seventeenth birthday was dwindling, and without a way out, I would have no chance at all.

Exhausted, I followed Knox and the guards up to the fourth floor, but it wasn’t until we’d reached Knox’s room that I tried to work up the courage to speak. Instead of heading toward Lila’s suite, I stood in front of him with my arms folded and the weight of a sleepless night on my shoulders. How was I supposed to say this in front of the guards?

Knox picked up on my uncertainty and gestured for them to leave us. Once they were gone, he held open his door for me, and I shook my head. I wasn’t going anywhere private with him.

“Who are the Blackcoats?” I said softly. Knox leaned down to answer, and his lips brushed against my ear.

“The people who bombed the ministries last night,” he said. “Why are we whispering?”

He was determined to make this difficult, and I was too tired to play games. “Was—I—involved with them?”

Knox straightened, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. “Why do you ask?”

“Because they wanted the same things I talked about.”

Several seconds passed, and I dug my toes into the carpet, wondering if I should walk away now before he lied and told me no. It was too much of a coincidence: Lila dying, me replacing her, the bombings—they had to be connected.

“Those are the same things every rebellion has been about for the past seventy-one years,” said Knox at last. “Groups have tried again and again to take down the Harts, but you’ve seen how well that worked out.”

“Except when Daxton’s wife and son died,” I blurted, remembering the conversation I’d had with Nina the day I’d received my III. She hadn’t outright told me they’d been killed by rebels, but she might as well have.

Knox paused, his gaze unfocused. “Jameson and Yvonne died in a car accident. There was no rebel involvement.”

“Are you sure?” I said.

“Positive. This is the first time the Blackcoats have done any sort of real damage, which is exactly why Augusta’s spooked.”

Maybe Nina had been wrong after all, but the way he hesitated only confused me more. “I’ve heard rumors—”

“Rumors are rumors because no one can back them up,” he said shortly. “I’ve explained what happened. If you’re going to push it, I’m not sticking around.”

“You don’t want to talk about them, fine,” I said. “I get it. I’ve lost people, too. But you will answer my question.”

“I already told you—”

“Not that one. The one before. Was I or was I not involved with the Blackcoats?”

Knox eyed me for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not I was worth the truth. “She got involved in that sort of thing about a year ago, and despite what Daxton wants you to think, she didn’t trust me. I don’t think she trusted anyone, not even her mother. The first time I heard the speeches was when I saw them with you.”

I studied him, searching for any signs that he was lying. His expression was maddeningly blank. “Okay. Thanks,” I said. If I let him know I suspected him, he would only try that much harder to hide the truth.

“You’re welcome.” Knox started to enter his room, and I hesitated in the doorway, another question on the tip of my tongue. He stopped, his eyebrows raised. “Was there something else?”

I cleared my throat. “Have you ever been Elsewhere?”

Something changed in his expression, something so tiny that it was gone before I could figure out what it was. “Yes. My father and I take a semiannual trip together. He considers it a bonding experience.”

Bonding over hunting innocent people. What could possibly bring a father and son closer together? And the way he said it, as if it were no big deal—as if all the fathers and sons in the ruling class did it. For all I knew, they did.

“Okay.” I turned away and headed down the hall, and when I heard footsteps behind me, I stopped.

“Lila,” he said, and I refused to look at him. It wasn’t his fault, but I was getting really, really sick of everyone calling me Lila. “I’m heading out to a club around ten tonight. Nothing fancy, but I figured you might get a kick out of it. Some of our friends will be there, and I’m sure they’d like to see you.”