Renegade (27 page)

My choice was already made the moment I decided to come here. ‘I don’t need to wait until the morning. I’m going.’

Xyalis claps his hands together. ‘Excellent. There’s a lot to discuss but it can wait until morning. Is there anything else you need to know before then?’

I am about to walk away when I feel the weight in my pocket. I take out the grey and black box Imrin stole from Reith’s office and hand it to Xyalis. ‘Do you know what this
is?’

His grin tells me that he does as he flips it around and begins to stroke an area on the back. ‘Oh, yes. I’m the one who invented it.’

As the train pulls into Middle England, the enormity of what we’re doing begins to dawn on me. We are crouched in silence, the crates of food providing an easy enough
space to hide behind. No one has checked on us since the Kingsman loyal to Xyalis waved us on not far from Lancaster as the train stopped for supplies and told us to sit down and shut up. He hissed
at us to stay out of view and added it was unlikely any of his colleagues would leave the cabin at the front.

The journey is exactly the same route I took when I was chosen as an Offering, which was only a few months back but feels like a lifetime ago. Except this time Opie is with me. He sits in a
position where he can watch out of the window, taking in the mass of destruction mixed with endless fields that we saw on the way down to Windsor, and trekked through on the way back. The last time
the train came this way, we stopped frequently, zigzagging into various towns and cities to pick up all of the Offerings to huge ovations. This time, each place is a blur as we fly through without
stopping.

I have to tell Opie to move away from the window as we pull into Middle England. The four towers are as magnificent as ever and I feel harsh telling him to stop looking when I know he has never
seen them before. We lie flat behind the crates of food as the cargo doors open and the Kingsmen begin to drag more items on board. Through the open door, I can hear the familiar hum of electricity
which makes me think about what Xyalis had to say. The Reckoning results are processed in the four towers above us, with all broadcasts going through them. I wonder if the bargaining prize Xyalis
has for me might be able to help undo the amount of hurt he has caused.

When the Kingsmen have finished loading the train, the doors slam shut and we sit up again. The train slowly drifts away from the station.

‘Do we all know what we’re doing?’ I ask, trying to reassure myself more than the other three.

‘Are you sure Opie is best going with you?’ Imrin asks. ‘Wouldn’t he be better paired with Faith?’

Faith doesn’t say anything but her scowl is enough to convey she doesn’t need looking after. I’m not convinced; I suspect the reason he is saying this is because he wants it to
be him who comes with me instead of Opie.

I speak as firmly as I can, trying to make it clear I’m not simply trying to engineer time with Opie. ‘You and I know the passages around the castle as well as anyone because we
snuck out at night.’ Opie turns to face me, wanting to query exactly what we were doing each evening but I don’t have time to placate the pair of them. I turn back to Imrin. ‘You
stay with Faith and round up the new Offerings, Opie and I will go for the medicine and what Xyalis needs. How are the uniforms fitting?’

Imrin still has his Kingsman uniform from when we were in Middle England and Xyalis has been able to provide Opie and I with two more. Opie’s fits perfectly as he is the shape and size
most Kingsmen would be expected to be. The one I’m wearing isn’t as snug as the one I left in the North Tower gym but I can get around. Given her petite size, Faith is struggling the
most. She has taken a uniform from Xyalis’ own guards which has been painted black. From a distance, it just about looks like the borodron of ours but no one will be fooled close-up. It is
also a lot heavier than our uniforms and, although she would never admit it, she is finding the weight difficult to bear.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Faith says, knowing I am mainly addressing her.

Soon, the light darkens as we enter the long tunnel which leads to the underground station at Windsor Castle. As the train begins to slow, I close my eyes, not wanting to see the torture chamber
into which we are being driven.

Within moments, the train doors are yanked open and we hear the Kingsmen’s voices discussing what to take first. Crates scrape, guards grunt with exertion, and then we hear the sound of
footsteps echoing away from us.

I move as stealthily as I can, edging around the crates until I reach the door. The platform is empty, so I wave the others towards me and then run to the front of the train, drop down onto the
tracks, and then race to the other side of the train before settling in the shadows of the tunnel. Opie, Imrin and Faith are right behind and we sit and watch silently as the Kingsmen return over
and over to finish unloading the food.

An hour or so passes and the only thing we can do is shuffle into slightly more comfortable positions. At first I run through everything I have to do in my head. Opie doesn’t know where
he’s going so it is important I don’t do anything reckless. Without me, he is lost, trapped here in the way I was. I try to enjoy the gentle breeze, the final vestiges of natural air
billowing around us before we head upstairs. Most of all, I try to force myself not to run. After the train pulls away, it leaves a pinprick of light at the far end of the tunnel – a chance
to escape from here, away from danger. We could run now, head out into the daylight and not come back. Imrin always said we could make it on our own and we have already seen the type of community
my mother has helped to create. But running towards the light means Hart will likely die, that Wray and the others will never be avenged, that Colt and my mum will live the rest of their lives with
a death sentence hanging over them.

And that I would have to choose: Imrin or Opie?

Is that really my motivation? While we are here, they will do what they can to help me, even if it means them working together. If it is ever over, they will look to me and want an answer.

Or is this all about revenge? Has the myth become reality? Am I happy to be the figurehead of the rebels because I want a better future for Colt and Imp? Or are all of the other motivations
things I keep telling myself so that I don’t have to make a decision?

As the faint light in the distance slowly turns as dark as the rest of the tunnel, we wait for one more hour and then cross the tracks towards the spiral staircase which will take us into the
castle. I remember being here months ago when we first entered, Jela and Pietra slightly behind me – at that point I didn’t even know their names. I’m so glad they don’t
have to go through this a second time.

I lead the others to the top where there is the sliding door Imrin and I spent weeks trying to find a way through. We don’t need to worry about a strip of borodron any longer as we are
covered in it. Whether it is for Wray, Hart, Colt or myself, my decision is made as I swipe my arm past the scanner on the wall and the door slides back, revealing the clean, fresh red carpet of
hell.

None of us pauses as Imrin and Faith march away without a word. Their task should be straightforward, although it may involve waiting for a safe moment.

I remember every twist and turn of our route perfectly. Xyalis says he will take care of the cameras but I still find myself taking a slightly longer path to avoid as many as we can. Part of our
route is the same journey we took back to the dormitory after Wray was killed on our first night. I try to ignore it but I can smell his blood in the air and taste that coppery scent of death
drifting around us.

All of the new Offerings will be locked in the dormitories by now and we don’t see anyone as we move through the corridors.

‘Are we nearly there?’ Opie asks as I finally stop moving and press myself against the wall.

‘The King’s quarters are around the corner.’

‘We’re going past that, right?’

‘I’ve only been this way once. It’s a long story but we had breakfast with the King. It should be straightforward but I want to make sure you know the way back, just in case
anything happens.’

Even though we have had our uniforms on for hours, this is the first time I properly look at Opie. The helmet shapes his face perfectly, his thick, solid jaw completing the oval. The biggest
giveaway are his eyes. Instead of the harsh grey or brown irises of a Kingsman, his glow bright and blue, hanging on my words and telling me that if anything does happen, there is no way
he’ll be leaving unless I do. I don’t relent and finally he gives in.

‘I remember the way,’ he replies, although I know he is lying.

I am about to say that it is time to go when we hear a clanging of doors and an anguished gurgle of annoyance. Opie stares at me, confused, but I know exactly who the voice belongs to as King
Victor staggers around the corner and looks us both up and down.

I straighten instinctively, standing to attention in the way I have seen the Kingsmen do before. Thankfully, Opie follows my lead.

‘That’s better,’ the King slurs, drunk. His ginger hair has grown longer than it was when I last saw him choking on the poisoned wine, thinking he was going to die. There are
some food remains matted into his beard, of which he seems unaware.

‘What happened to the wine?’ he bellows, eyes darting in all directions. ‘There was supposed to be some on the way.’

There is a pause and I am screaming at Opie in my head, reminding him that I can’t speak. We don’t know of any female Kingsmen and although the uniform allows me to pass as one,
anything I say would instantly give us away.

As he finally remembers, Opie stumbles over the first part of his reply. ‘It’s on its way, Your, er, Highness,’ he says.

It is painful.

The King stares at him, eyes slanted and confused. I see the sword hanging limply from his belt and remember what he did to Wray with it. He mutters something I don’t catch and then wipes
his mouth before stumbling to the side.

The thought suddenly occurs to me that we could kill him now. Snatching his sword would be easy – he is drunk and unable to defend himself. One lunge, one strike and this is over. I could
do it now.

Do it
.

I start to reach forward but my feet are planted to the spot, the feather-light borodron so heavy that I cannot move.

Do it
.

Now I cannot even open my mouth, as if my senses have deserted me. What am I waiting for?

The King stumbles towards Opie and slaps him in the chest. ‘I’m the King, you know?’ he says, the words falling into one another.

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘If I want wine, I should have wine.’

‘It’s on its way.’

His eyes roll back into his head as he falls forward, forcing Opie to hold him up. At the sight of Opie’s panicked expression, my feet finally come loose. The King is unconscious, his face
squished awkwardly against Opie’s chest with both arms draped around him.

‘What do we do?’ Opie hisses.

I see his eyes shoot towards the sword in the way mine had.

I shake my head. ‘Not like this – it’ll mean nothing if it happens here. There are people out there who still believe in him. They need to see the truth; this will only make it
worse.’

I’m not sure if Opie understands but he heaves the King up and follows me around the corner, past the room in which we once had breakfast and through a huge set of double doors. Inside are
two Kingsmen, one of whom runs towards us. I wait by the doors just in case, but the guard is shaking his head disdainfully.

‘Not again,’ he says, reaching towards the slumped body of the King.

Opie mumbles a reply as they move him onto a bed and then we hurry away before any other questions can be asked, closing the doors behind us.

‘Have you seen him drunk before?’ Opie whispers as we continue past the doors towards our destination.

‘Plenty of times. It’s why we targeted his wine when we used the tan fruit on him. He never lets any go to waste.’

‘He seems very different when he’s on screen.’

‘I’ve seen him act completely different in person. I guess it’s just the wine. When he’s sober, there’s this way he has of saying things that makes you listen. Even
if you hate him and what he says, it draws you in.’

‘Like Xyalis?’

‘Exactly.’

‘And you.’

I stop in the centre of the corridor and grab Opie’s arm, pushing him towards the wall. I am so shocked that, if it wasn’t for the borodron encasing him, I would be squeezing into
his flesh.
‘What?’

Opie doesn’t realise what he’s said. ‘I just meant that people listen to you. There’s nothing bad about that, is there? You’re not like them. It’s like the
other day – we were having problems controlling Imp but the moment you wander into camp, he’s all over you, hanging on your every word.’

He’s not wrong but coupled with what Imrin said to me at the camp about manipulating people, I feel as if the two people closest to me are picking me apart. Opie’s statement was
innocent enough to the point that he doesn’t even know what he’s said. He stares at me, confused, wondering what to tell me to get me to focus again.

‘Forget it,’ I say, letting him go and continuing along the empty corridor.

I swipe through a door at the end and enter a room that is so bright Opie gasps involuntarily as the doors swish closed behind us. The ceiling and walls are completely white, the blinking red
dots underneath the three security cameras in the corners of the room the only splashes of colour.

‘Do you think Xyalis knows what he’s doing with the cameras?’ Opie asks, pointing at one of them.

‘I hope so.’

When I was last here, the blinking lights meant trouble. It means the cameras must be recording – but Xyalis has a way of ensuring whatever is being broadcast to anyone watching the
security footage doesn’t include us. If it was me, I would have looped earlier footage.

Of everything we have to do in the castle, this is the part I am least sure about. On the map Imrin and I created when we were effectively prisoners, this area was the only one we didn’t
know. Xyalis told us that the old research labs are beyond the King’s quarters and this is where the medical samples are kept. Although the room appears bright, there is a thin layer of dust
across the counter-tops that are pressed against the walls.