Pity sat as her vision narrowed, the edges turning dim.

Max… How was it possible? Drakos-Pryce was more than a powerful corporation. It was an empire. How had Max managed to elude that for so long?

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Sheridan. “Facts, figures, and faces—those are my talents. I never forget them, though years and the dye and piercings did a good job of obscuring his features.” He registered her confusion. “In all my time in Columbia, Drakos-Pryce might have never turned their eyes toward me, but, oh, I watched them. The deals they made. Who they talked to at parties and who they didn’t. And even the skinny, bored little boy they ignored more often than not.”

“He said he hated the parties.” The words trickled out of her as she fought to process her bewilderment. One thing was clear, though: the payment Sheridan had offered up in return for the corporation’s endorsement.

“For years he was assumed to be abroad—hidden away until he was old enough to join his parents’ business. I should thank you. If not for your debut, I might never have noticed him that evening in the Gallery.” He leaned toward her. “Pity, where is he?”

A sour taste filled her mouth. “Locked up, where no one can get to him. Selene won’t let him go unless I go with you.”

“And…?”

“And kill you.”

“Ah.” Sheridan was silent for a moment. “What happens to Max if you don’t?”

Again, Pity’s eyes fell to the scarlet stain. “She’ll tell everyone that he was working with Daneko, put him in a Finale, and make me kill him. And when I refuse to do that…”

“Yes, I understand.” Sheridan’s tone turned jarringly light. “Well, since I’d rather not be killed, and you would rather not kill Max, I think we are both on the same side.”

Were they? “It’s too late. You need Max, and he’s in Selene’s hands.”

“But she doesn’t know what she has.” He paused, pensive again. “Or what is happening around her.”

She looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Pity, what if I told you that Selene’s plans no longer matter?”

A new kind of dread ignited in her belly. The territory they were traversing had changed suddenly. “I-I don’t…”

“Selene isn’t as universally beloved as you might think. And she’s a fool if she thinks anyone would believe Max an accessory to her assassination attempt. Even if I didn’t know he was the prince of a cutthroat corporation, I never would have tried to acquire his assistance.”

At first she thought she misheard. “But it was Daneko who—” She stopped. The help in the east. “Oh, Lord, it wasn’t Daneko who tried to kill Selene. It was you.”

“Oh, Daneko was involved,” Sheridan said. “But as my cat’s-paw. He was more than willing to sell Selene out if it meant he’d take over the city, even if only as my proxy.” He chuckled. “It was a bit ambitious—I see that now. But how could I have known that my plan would fail simply because Serendipity Jones came to breakfast?”

Pity stood, freezing in place when she realized she didn’t know what she was doing. More than trust, this was a confession. Sheridan had tried to murder Selene.

Sheridan, not Daneko.

Her thoughts cast back to that morning. To the assassins who had offered to take them alive and Sheridan’s words before the final rally: You don’t need to do this. At the time, she’d heard it as the sentiment of a man believing surrender would save his life. Now she realized he’d never been in danger to begin with.

Be careful, she thought. Be very careful. “Why? Why would you do all this?”

“I told you: Cessation is the power in the west,” Sheridan said. “Like Columbia is in the east. Together they form a conduit through which authority over the entire continent flows. Selene is partially right in her machinations. I want Cessation… though not with her.”

The blood drained from Pity’s cheeks. Finally Sheridan’s intentions were illuminated. It was one thing for him to be allied with Selene. But singular control over CONA and Cessation was unprecedented, each city a bastion of influence that could be used to covertly benefit the other. Sheridan would effectively command the entire continent, with an amount of power unseen since before the Pacific Event. This was what he had wanted all along, she thought, why he made a deal with Drakos-Pryce. Even if he’d once thought Casimir’s secrets and sway could gain him the presidency, he’d never intended to let Selene live.

“But without Selene,” she said, “there’s no Cessation. It will all come apart.”

Sheridan sniffed. “A useful fiction that has served Selene well. But any old soldier can tell you that when a general falls, the troops will fall in line so long as a strong leader is there to replace him. Which is where our friend Daneko comes in.”

Our friend? “The city hates him.”

“This city will accept whoever gives them what they want.”

“Selene is already doing that, remember? He’ll be dead come midnight tomorrow.”

“No,” said Sheridan, with a sly smile. “Selene doesn’t know it yet, but there will be no show. Daneko will be free well before that, and her reign will be over.”

Pity tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone as dry as chalk. “How?” That one word nearly took the breath out of her, and a moment passed before she could continue. “She’s more careful now. Casimir is a fortress when it needs to be. And you’ll never be able to get to her, not with Beau and security around her.”

“Don’t concern yourself with Selene. As to Casimir, tomorrow the Reformationists will march on it. But this time hidden among them will be a force of my own, courtesy of Drakos-Pryce. Once they get inside, it will only be a matter of time.”

So it hadn’t been her imagination. The camp had gotten larger since the last time she saw it. It was so perfectly simple—the Reformationists were fanatics, but peaceful ones, who wouldn’t raise suspicion. “They’ll never get past the front door.”

“That’s been taken care of, too.” Sheridan paced across the thick carpet. “I told you, I’m not alone in this.”

Who? Not a single name came to mind. Instead she thought of the aftermath of the assassination attempt—Casimir’s anger and tears on Selene’s behalf. Would it have been the same if she hadn’t survived? Pity wanted to believe it would, but Casimir was a place of safety and luxury far beyond the normal reach of its residents. Maybe Sheridan was right; maybe everyone would fall in line so long as a firm hand still held the city.

“And when Casimir is ours, Max will be, too. You two will be together again before this time tomorrow—if I can count on you to keep this quiet. Please, Pity, I need your help.”

No, you don’t. Sheridan would make his play with or without her—she had no doubt. But finally she saw a glimmer of light, the opening she was searching for. If Sheridan freed Max, maybe there was a way for the two of them to escape, beyond the reach of Selene or Drakos-Pryce or anyone else who threatened them. It was a slim chance, but what choice did she have?

A dark thought thrust its way to the forefront of her mind. “There’s going to be resistance.”

“I know,” Sheridan said. “It’s impossible to promise that no blood will be shed, but I promise no one will be harmed when it can be avoided.”

She tried to picture it: Sheridan’s men storming Casimir and the chaos that would ensue. But her thoughts kept twisting to Max, so close—only a few stories below her feet—and yet as unreachable as the moon. Something in her hardened. She couldn’t let the weight of her mistakes fall on him.

I’ll do what I need to, Selene had said.

Well, so would she.

“Yes,” Pity said. “I’ll help you.”

“Good,” said Sheridan. He guided her gently toward the door. “Now, I want you to go to your room. Selene is probably having you watched. Pack enough to make it look like you’re accompanying me east and then return here.” He gave her an encouraging squeeze of her arm. “Be quick. The wheels are in motion, Pity. There’s no stopping the train now.”

The sentiment echoed in her ears as she left the suite, tangling with the thoughts ricocheting through her mind. All this time, from the very moment Sheridan stepped foot in Cessation, he had been planning. And Selene, for all her calculations, had missed the threat of him entirely.

That’s why he fled after the assassination attempt. His life wasn’t in danger until Selene survived and the possibility she might discover his involvement arose. But by then he knew about Max, the ace up his sleeve with which he could leverage Drakos-Pryce. And while their sham romance had been a misdirection, it was one meant to keep Selene worried about the unknown threat in the east instead of the one standing at her very door.

Adora appeared around a corner, blocking her path. “Well?”

The single word cracked in Pity’s ears like a shot. For a heartbeat, she forgot the original objective of her visit to Sheridan and the plot she already had a part in. Adora waited, a smug smile on her face. Pity imagined throwing her against the wall, removing the expression with a well-placed fist. Instead, she stared straight ahead, blood burning in her veins.

Selene still thinks she’s got the upper hand. Well, she can go on thinking that.

“You can tell her it’s done,” Pity said. “I’m going with him.”