But I stay there, fiddling with my nails as if Stanley hasn't just indirectly suspected us.
“Yes. That's what I'm saying,” Riley says. “She could report back that you failed to answer the door and aren't under control. I hope that girl didn't see you.”
“But she said meeting a Nightside was cool,” I say, keeping that innocent Miranda tone. She hasn't had to kill yet. She hasn't broken.
Riley's not having it. “Go out back and train, Stanley. Right now. And work on looking like less of a rebel.”
Stanley stares at Riley and then lifts an eyebrow like he can't believe this young guy is bossing him around.
He's our suspect, after all. He's just done a good job of dodging us until now. For all I know, he's manipulating our minds right now, making us see and hear things that aren't true, and maybe he was even standing there while Riley showed me affection.
Stanley must have planned to make me answer the door after all. And we fell for it, thinking we had a small private moment.
Now he must know who I really am.
But he keeps his stare on Riley. I blink, trying to see through whatever mental tricks he's doing. “Yes, your royal highness,” Stanley says at last, whirling and walking out of the room.
Riley stands there and listens as he works his way through the back of the house and exits through the maintenance hallway. Then he lowers his shoulders and looks at me. His wide eyes tell me he knows we just screwed up.
But I don't dare speak, in case there's a chance of salvaging this. I nod. Is Stanley really gone, or is he just making us think that he is?
“Go out and train,” Riley orders me, cold and stiff.
“But I just trained,” I protest.
“We all need to work on our abilities. I'm going to call Lily and tell her which convention center we'll be at, and I hope she can go with us. You must help us watch for anyone trying to sabotage our chances of surviving. All of us will need to work together to watch for whoever is plotting against me.” It's a warning to Stanley and a way to tell me the plan.
I nod. “I'll help.”
We have two weeks left. And finally, we've settled on our prime suspect.
And finally, I've weeded him out. Stanley all but revealed that he thinks I'm Olivia, and he's right. Dad said he was old, after all.
“Good,” Riley says with a faint smile. “If we're able to hand the High Council our man, whoever it is, then we'll win their favor.”
I swallow.
We can give them Stanley, reveal his identity as the Originator, and reveal his plan to the entire Convening. But what, exactly, is his plan? He came up with the Prophecy and tried to turn me against Riley. That alone is a good excuse to throw him to the wolves. Also, he tried to make Riley into a monster, not caring that he'd attack a human. Mr. Logan suffered because of that.
He's proven that he's not a good man, and won't have anything good planned. And I'm sure the High Council has heard of him, and I'm even more sure they must fear him.
So that's our plan. If Stanley thinks that looking harmless is dangerous, then that's what I'll do.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The mansion is a buzz of nervous activity on the afternoon of the Convening.
I want to vomit in my adjoining bathroom, but I focus on the blue dress I've chosen for the occasion. Blue is a soft, harmless color, unlike red or orange or royal purple. I look like Olivia in the mirror, but as Miranda, I'll appear almost mousy, especially with that dyed hair that's been slowly growing out since I got here. The dress comes down to my ankles, and I throw on a black, long-sleeved shirt over the top to shut out the cold. It's classy, but not too classy, and I definitely don't need to outshine Riley.
Down on the first floor, people shuffle around, talking in low voices, and I hear the women all huddled and speaking in whispers. Riley marches around in squeaky new shoes, all polished for the occasion, and he reminds everyone that he will walk into the Convening first. The Nightsides are to follow, heads inclined to the floor, and he's sorry it's slightly degrading.
But Riley is in charge.
I should march in there beside him, but I'm going to stay near the back of the procession.
And watching Stanley.
We've got to go in with a surprise gift for the High Council. It's a bribe, but isn't that how the world works?
He’ll confess his crimes against the Truebloods, in front of the High Council. That's our best chance of survival.
And I've been practicing.
Not just with Walton, but in secret.
And I'm going to practice until we get into the Convening and this turns real.
“Okay, Miranda,” I say, straightening my skirt against the static electricity pulling it to my legs. “March down there, mousy and nervous. Don't look like the Prophecy. You're harmless. Easy to pass over.” Except for Stanley. He suspects me, so I need that edge.
And I think that after the last two weeks, I have it.
I've been training not just on animals, but on all the Nightsides.
I've started small. I've made Lola reach for another mug of coffee here, made Becky try a funky type of tea there, and made the others decide to change into a different suit or dress before going out for the night. Then I went bigger. Daeshawn has suddenly gotten an urge to wear cream suits instead of black ones. Trish now wears turquoise jewelry instead of silver at my subtle prodding. Even Walton has ditched his pocket watches for more modern varieties. It's all small stuff, nothing anyone will even notice, but it's held.
I can manipulate the other Nightsides without them knowing. And that’s what I need to know.
And I've been watching for any signs
