“I’m fine right here.”
She nods. “Recovering from the tranquilizer okay?”
“He told you about that?”
“I watched it go down.”
“Oh,” I say, raising an eyebrow. I wait for more, something that sounds like the Fagin who would be incensed over this whole situation, but it doesn’t come. She doesn’t say that they forced her to watch, that it was difficult or upsetting or rage-inducing to see her protégé—her child—drugged and captured. She doesn’t offer empathy or sorrow. I get the distinct impression that she’s free to roam the ship at will.
She just sits there like a stone with a stupid, blank expression on her face. “Was it entertaining? Because I can’t tell you it sure as hell wasn’t fun for me.”
She leans forward in the chair. “Clémence, listen carefully. I know you’re confused and scared. But—"
“You forgot angry as fuck and more than a little sick because you watched them shoot me and you’re talking about it like it’s the goddamn weather report.”
She exhales a ragged breath. “Do you remember the conversation in my office before we began training for England?”
She doesn’t flinch when I level a steady gaze at her. “Every damn word. You said the Benefactors designed this punishment mission because he—” I point at Carter. “—reported me for fucking with his retirement.”
“Carter didn’t report you.” She runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “I was...mistaken.”
“No, you weren’t. You don’t make mistakes like that. Your network is so wide, your contacts so trustworthy, you would never be mistaken like that.”
“No one’s perfect,” Carter says with a loathsome smirk.
Fagin raises a hand and casts a furtive look over her shoulder at him. He falls silent again.
What the actual fuck is going on?
“More importantly,” she continues, “do you remember the part about the Benefactors’ judgment if we failed?”
“Prison or death. Pretty dramatic stuff. Hard to forget.” Reality hits me between the eyes and anger turns to sick fear in the pit of my stomach. “We didn’t get everything on the list.”
“No. We didn’t. Because you changed the historical timeline, we didn’t even get close to completing the mission,” she says. “This means if we don’t work with Carter, we have no help. No protection. How long do you think we’d last being in the wind before the Benefactors caught up to us?”
“He works for the Benefactors,” I say. “How is working with him going to protect us?“ I turn to Carter. “I’ll bet you were the hooded guy who attacked Anne on the staircase, too.”
“Remember when I said you were half-wrong?” Carter says, folding his arms. “I work for the GTC. I’m in deep cover working to infiltrate the Benefactors. I wasn’t involved in the attack on Lady Anne. That was all Trevor’s team. We haven’t caught up with them yet.”
“Trevor has a team? So, the government knows we’re mercenaries and will protect us because we didn’t steal all of the shit we were supposed to steal?” I laugh. “That makes no sense. If you work for the government, you’d have us on an execution block or on our way to a prison planet right now.”
“There’s more to the story,” Fagin says. “Listen to Carter. If you don’t, our lives won’t be the only ones on the line. Nico’s life—and many others—will be in danger, too. Please, Dodger. Stop being so damn stubborn and listen.”
“Listening is easy. Believing either of you at this point...not so much,” I say.
“Infuriating. Obstinate kid.” Fagin mutters as she jumps up to pace a short line between the chair and the force field.
Carter moves past Fagin and places a portable hologram display device on the floor. “Computer, play surveillance hologram Trevor215. The time stamp is ten minutes after Arseneau planted her letter in the king’s chambers.“
A scaled-down hologram recording springs to life in mid-air. We watch as Becca Trevor, disguised as Cesario, sneaks up the privy stairs to King Henry’s chambers.
“Computer, zoom in on Trevor’s right hand.” Carter says.
She carries a piece of parchment, folded and sealed. She steps over the two unconscious sentries I hypo sprayed and slips into the king’s chambers. The surveillance images fade, and Carter says, “I’ll bet you know at least part of what the letter in her hand says.” He steps closer to the force field barrier and swipes his fingers over the screen of a portable computer display. He holds it up so I can see. It’s a list of Trevor’s computer files.
He taps a file and shows me its contents. “Look familiar?”
My Dearest Thomas,
I weep for our lost love as I prepare to marry the king.
“That bitch,” I interrupt. “She hacked my files.”
“Indeed,” Carter says. “Lieutenant Trevor has been under surveillance for over a year,” She’s a Benefactor mole, groomed for years to infiltrate the GTC.”
“This is bigger than the Benefactors flogging me for going out of bounds.” I shuffle my feet; there’s not much room in this cell for me to walk while I think. “We didn’t get half the stuff on the acquisition list.”
“Carter doesn’t think punishing you was the point of the mission,” Fagin says grimly.
“They wanted me to change history.” Panic hits hard; my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. “I didn’t mean for Anne to die.”
“I believe you,” Carter says. “The Benefactors lit this fuse, not you.”
It takes a minute to realize Carter isn’t blaming me for the entire shit show. “You’re defending me?”
“Simply acknowledging you’ve been the Benefactors’ useful idiot in this scenario,” he says, with a dead serious look. “We knew an extreme Benefactor cell planned to interfere in the historical timeline. How, where, and when,” he spreads his hands wide, “we could only guess until you jumped in with both feet. It’s clear they played you like a fucking Stradivarius until you frog-marched to their tune.”
“Why me?”
“You’re clever and skilled and emotionally unhinged enough to go off half-cocked to save your family. Fagin gave us the date and time of your father’s death. We bet the house
