“What about Isabella?” Trevor asks.
There’s a brief silence on the line. When she speaks, Fagin’s tone changes from fury to shock. “H-How do you—?”
“You should know by now there’s nothing the Benefactors don’t know about you.”
My brain races through all of Fagin’s recruits since I’ve known her. I’ve never heard that name before. Who the hell is Isabella?
“Dodger,” Fagin says, her breaths coming in short, fast bursts. It sounds like she’s running. “The king is on the privy stair.”
Fuck. He will find the unconscious men in the pages’ chamber. That could bring a swarm of guards upstairs if they think it’s a security breach and not an open-and-shut case of dereliction of duty.
I make it as far as the door between the bedroom and the outer chamber, before the king’s voice booms through the corridor outside. There’s no choice, but to hide until the king returns to the party. And just like that, I’m trapped in the toilet. Again. At least this one has an upholstered red box—with a padded seat, no less—covering the piss pot hidden within.
“What is it with you and getting stuck in the bathroom?” Nico says. “You need to find better hiding spots. At least this one looks bigger than the one at the d’Medici villa. Is that a wood bathtub in front of a fireplace in the background?”
“Do something,” I hiss. “Create a distraction. Get the king out of here.”
There’s muffled words and shoes scuffling on the wood floor out in the king’s Waiting Room, and beyond. Then there’s shouting. They’ve found the guards, presumably still slumped in their chairs at the gaming table.
Pressing my ear against the door of bathroom, I’m startled to hear King Henry’s voice so close. He’s in the bedchamber.
“Send them to the tower,” Henry says, his voice a deep growl. “One hundred lashes minus one for each. Teach them what happens when they fail to protect their king.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lady Anne’s father is in the room. Footsteps retreat to the other room.
I’m not sure if the king exited the room with the Earl of Wiltshire or not, so I wait.
And listen.
The only voice I hear is Becca Trevor buzzing in my ear like a mosquito. “Poor, sad, pathetic little Clémence,” she chuckles. “You think you’re the only human to suffer trauma and heartache?”
Nico’s voice cuts in. “Unless you want me to use this hypo on you, Trevor, you better shut the fuck up.”
Once she learned the king returned to his chambers, Trevor must’ve changed her mind about joining me. From the sound of it, she’s back on the ship and close enough to Nico for him to make good on the threat.
“You could incapacitate me. The question you should ask yourself is what I might do to your little girlfriend if you do.” Trevor says. “Don’t even think of cutting off this transmission. That’s an order. Because if she doesn’t hear everything I have to say, this mission will get a whole lot worse for all of you.”
There’s a grumble from Nico. With the king so close by, I can’t risk answering her perverted rant, and she knows it. She has me muzzled, and knows I have to stand here and take the abuse.
“Poor daddy murdered by the English,” she says in a sing-song voice, like she’s reciting the beginning of a nursery rhyme. The tone turns colder, more cruel. “Bet the fact that you have to work this mission and make nice with the butchers who eventually slaughter your family sticks so far down your craw that you’re choking on it.”
Trevor is the second loathsome person who knows details about me that only Fagin is supposed to know. My stomach does a free fall to my toes.
“Clémence.” Nico doesn’t often use my given name. When he does it’s because he seriously needs my attention or wants to make a point. With this single, calm utterance of my name, he let me know that even if he can’t stop this full-scale assault, he’s with me, and it’s comforting. “Don’t listen to her.”
“Trevor...please.” Fagin’s voice is a wounded whisper. She’s still gasping for breath. From what I can gather, she hasn’t yet made it back to the ship.
The lieutenant mocks her with an exaggerated whine. “Trevor, please.” Then, she unleashes on me again. “What happens next? Oh, yes. You and mommy get put on a ship for the colonies and it sinks from under you. How does it feel to be an orphan all alone in this big, bad world?”
“Fucking hell, Trevor,” Nico says. “What are you doing? It sounds like,” he pauses. His tone shifts from questioning to accusing. “Like you’re purposely trying to shove Dodger off a cliff.”
Bile burns the back of my throat as I fight to keep the tears locked inside. My knees give way. I lean against the wall. Close my eyes.
Faces flash through my memory. Papa in a pool of his own blood and the Redcoat standing over him. Mama’s horrified face as she’s swept over the rail of the ship by a monster wave. The grim face of the ship’s captain as he drags me, screaming in terror, below deck.
Trevor sounds like she’s just getting started; she speaks at a faster clip, hammering each word like the final nail in a coffin. “How does it feel to know you’re powerless? Impotent? Forever trapped in the living the hell the world has created for you. Hell, you can’t even get out of the toilet, can you? Say the words: I’m powerless. There’s nothing I can do.”
I don’t answer. I’m afraid if I do, a primal scream will erupt like a volcano.
“Say it, now,” she repeats, biting out each word.
No.
“You have to the count of three to say it: I’m powerless. There’s nothing I can do.”
No. I can’t.
“One...”
“You fucking bitch,” Nico says.
“Maybe if I turn the screws on Nico, you’ll be able to say it.”
“I’m a big boy. I can handle
