Thursday, Friday, and Saturday passed quickly. In between my stitching work in the mornings and evenings, attending my day job, and accompanying Hux to visitations in the evenings—and trying to maintain a decent level of sleep—I barely had time to watch the new portal’s progression. Which was good, because each time I logged on, it only made me more impatient for Monday.

The chaos there didn’t stop my team from joining in the discussions, although, come Monday, some of them would have less time for that too. Hux had told me that our visit to wherever his sister was staying on Sunday would be the final group on his safe list, after which we’d start reaching out to the riskier prospects in the area. For that, we’d need to call upon at least a couple more members from my team to assist us, security-wise.

In the meantime, Hux and I met with three more trusted groups.

On Thursday, we visited a remote farm, whose owner mentioned that he could help in the form of a supply of food and shelter in his barns, if there was ever an emergency, and then agreed to join the portal (then warned us that he wanted to be more of a background supporter and didn’t want to be heavily involved in the discussion).

On Friday we met up with a small group of nomads, all around their mid-twenties, who roamed from place to place in a couple of old trailers. They didn’t have kids with them, though they claimed they’d been victims of the CRAS in one way or another, and offered to help as foot soldiers on missions, should the need for extra manpower arise.

Then, early on Saturday morning, we met a forty-something-year-old man who claimed he was a car dealer and could assist us with transport. He mentioned in passing that he’d been directly affected by the CRAS when he was a younger, and poorer, man—and that he’d lost two children to the system, the grief of which led to a breakdown in his marriage. He was a smart, well-dressed guy, but the bitterness in his eyes and voice as he spoke of his past made him seem almost feral. I could practically feel the lust for vengeance burning through him when he requested an immediate invitation to the portal. I was sure that, when the time was right, he would make a good ally, but his mood also left me with the feeling that we needed to be careful, every single one of us, not to be blinded by vengeance. We were playing, or about to play, a very dangerous game here, and none of us could afford to approach this with anything but a cool head.

Which was why it was important to have as many of those as possible within the portal. I knew my team, for all their desire to see the system come to an end, were level-headed thinkers, Nelson in particular. I just needed to hope that there were enough others around to balance out the more passionate folks.

We were done with the car dealer by 10:00 a.m., and I took the early finish as an opportunity to sit Hux down in a little juice joint we passed on the street. Since yesterday, his mood had grown tense again, and while it wasn’t nearly as dark as it had been before my offer to make his sister a present, I still sensed a growing unease in him. He seemed to become quieter and quieter outside of meetings, and it appeared to be a strain for him to engage even in small talk. I understood, of course. The last time he’d met with his sister, it hadn’t gone well. It had been downright traumatic, and he was clearly afraid of a repeat.

But Sunday was only one sleep away now, and I needed to broach the topic. I’d completed his sister’s gift the night before and had it with me in my bag. I’d just been waiting for the right moment to show it to him.

“You okay?” I asked, giving him a look as our fruit juices arrived.

He heaved a sigh, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I’m just nervous.”

“I understand,” I replied, giving his arm a sympathetic pat. “At least I think you’ll have a great gift for her. I really think you’ll like what I made, and I’m hoping she will too.” He hadn’t seen the final result yet. I hadn’t sent him any photos, nor had I described it, because I’d wanted it to be a surprise so I could see the reaction on his face. A small part of me hoped I could be there to see his sister’s reaction, too.

“I’m looking forward to seeing it,” he said with a small smile, and then a yawn overtook him and he stretched out his arms, rolling his neck.

It was nice to see him finally comfortable in his clothes. After I’d fixed the first set on Wednesday, they’d fit him nearly perfectly. A touch on the baggy side, but that definitely didn’t bother him. So he’d given me two other sets of clothes to fix, too.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” I replied with a grin. “Because I kept to my deadline, and I have it with me right now.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yup. Close your eyes.”

“Okay,” he murmured. He did as instructed and dropped his eyelids, even as his lips stretched into a crooked smile.

Dipping a hand into my bag, I fished out the present, which I’d embroidered with a design of my own imagination and then stuffed with wool and lavender to form a scented pillow, and set it right in front of him on the table.

“Now open them,” I said.

He did so, and his smile immediately broadened. He picked up the pillow, examining the design on the front of it for almost a minute, and when he flipped it over, checking out the design on the other side, his smile stretched even wider and he burst out laughing.

“Oh. I think you’re right,” he said. “I think you hit the right note here. I… I really think she’ll like it.”

I smiled back, content that the design had had the desired effect. “Good.”

He flipped it over to look at the front again, and then the back, and he chuckled again, before raising it to his nose and inhaling. “Smells amazing, too.”

I nodded, even as I realized I needed to use the bathroom. I told him I’d be back in a minute, then left him to a bit of privacy while he looked at the item.

On returning, I saw that his smile had faded, replaced by a contemplative expression. “She’s going to wonder who made it,” he said, glancing at me as I resumed my seat. “She knows I can’t sew to save my life.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And? It’s still a gift from you. You paid for the materials.”

“I know,” he said, dropping his gaze back to the gift. He shifted on the seat, suddenly looking a little awkward. “It’s just, I was thinking. When we arrive at the place, we’ll go to meet with the appointed contact there, first. And after that, I was planning to stop by to see my sister. And, uh, I was thinking you might come in with me, rather than wait outside.”

I smiled at his hesitancy, and also couldn’t deny that I was rather touched that he would ask. “I would like to, actually,” I replied warmly. “If you think your sister won’t mind a stranger intruding on the meeting.”

He shook his head, sighing. “I mean, she doesn’t even want the meeting in the first place, so it’s hardly going to make things worse. I’m asking because I actually think the presence of a stranger might help. It’s just been me visiting her for the past four months, and…” He trailed off, swallowing. “I guess she’s developed something of a negative thought pattern toward that. If you came with me, it might just help to break up that pattern a bit.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s a stupid theory, but I don’t think it can do any harm. Besides, if you came, she’d be able to meet the genius behind the gift.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I grinned. “Sure, I’ll come.”

We took a train the next morning, as he informed me that our destination would be the farthest we’d traveled yet. It was nestled deep in the mountains, apparently, but he didn’t say more than that, leaving me in suspense, as he had a habit of doing, until we actually arrived.

After an almost four-hour journey, involving changing trains three times and then getting a taxi to transport us along a winding, mountain passage, we finally reached a breathtaking valley, where some kind of huge compound sprawled, surrounded by a high wall.

I realized only as we drew nearer what it was, my eyes catching sight of a bold sign near the entrance gates, and my jaw dropped.

Orange Grove Convent. For Daughters of Christ.

“Oh my goodness,” I breathed. “This. Is. Genius.”

A nunnery. They’re freaking hiding in a nunnery.

I didn’t even know all the details of the relationship yet—or any—but I was already imagining how they managed to get away with this. Our government held holy people like nuns and monks in far too high a regard to ever suspect they would be helping dissidents. Heck, they were the epitome of morality and self-control, qualities governors of the Burchard Regime most respected. And, tucked away out here, right in the middle of nowhere, I could fully imagine that they were able to absorb dozens of people into their large community and keep them sheltered. Not unlimited numbers, of course, but more than Nelson’s border contact could ever help.

I wondered, however, what happened to those they hid in the long term. Was the plan for them to literally live here until the day they died?

That didn’t seem very practical or realistic to me, and it certainly wasn’t something I’d want to force on my own child. Kids would grow up and want to visit the outside someday. And what about the male children? Surely they wouldn’t live here through their adulthood?

I couldn’t help but wonder if they might have found, or at least be working on, some other loophole or solution for that eventuality.

But for now, I knew a whole lot more than I had this morning, and I was eager to learn more just as soon as I got the chance.

My heart was still pounding in my chest from a mixture of disbelief and excitement when the taxi stopped in front of the sturdy set of entrance gates.

“Be back in a moment,” Hux murmured, and then got out of the car and headed over to a control panel fixed on the wall next to the gate.

I rolled down my window, letting in a warm, nearly intoxicating breeze that carried the scent of oranges and flowers, and poked my head out of the car so I could listen in as he buzzed.

“Name and purpose, please,” a throaty, female voice crackled out.

“I have an appointment with Sister Isobel. She knows me as Mr. Huxley.”

I pulled my head back instantly, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. Huxley. Might that be his real surname, which he’d used as inspiration for his fake middle name? I couldn’t be sure, but if these ladies were looking after his sister, I guessed it was possible they were on real-name terms.

Shoot. I rolled up my window and knocked my head back against the seat, even as the guilt continued to creep up in me. I hadn’t meant to overhear personal information. I was just so curious about this place in general that I’d wanted to keep my ears and eyes open at all times. Memories of my very first briefing with Nelson kicked in, where she’d laid out the reasons why we didn’t exchange personal details. If any of us was ever caught by the government—the likelihood of which was only going to increase, given the riskier turn all of our lives were about to take with the new, focused action group—then torture was a very real possibility. Nelson had told me she’d heard of it happening before, though she hadn’t given me details of who and when.

But I could believe it. Because enforcers were naturally keen to sniff out other dissidents, and there was no easier way to do that than to have one of their own turn on them. And under the duress of torture, there was no saying what even the most loyal among us would do. Everyone on OH knew that, which was why everyone in the community was so cagey, and there had never been a real effort to band together until Nathan’s intervention.

Heck, I wasn’t even sure what I would do. I couldn’t fully trust myself, which was why I was so reluctant to know anything more about people than I absolutely had to. I didn’t want to be a liability to anyone, least of all someone I’d come to consider a friend.

I sucked in a breath as he returned and heaved himself back into his seat. Then the gates rattled open and the taxi rolled forward, and I found that I couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“You okay?” he asked, apparently noticing my shiftiness. He shot me a glance.

I sighed, not liking the idea of lying to him. “I’m sorry, Hux,” I said softly, not wanting the driver to overhear. “But I listened in on what you said just now, to that lady. At least, the first part of it.”

His frown deepened. “You mean you caught my surname?”

I nodded, wincing slightly. From the way he’d phrased the question, and from the look on his face now, I guessed Huxley was his real name.

He gave me a considering look, then leaned back in his chair, facing forward. I waited with bated breath, worried about his reaction, while the guilt continued to eat away at me.

And then, to my surprise, he merely shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, as the taxi came to a stop inside a pretty, stone-paved courtyard within the compound. He paid the driver for the ride and asked him to wait for us for the journey back, and then we both got out of the car.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my eyes drawn to the stunning, medieval-looking stone buildings surrounding us, even as I frowned at his response. A gorgeous church, whose walls were engraved with murals, loomed directly ahead, and next to it stood a long, low, rectangular building with a concave roof. A community center, based on the sign above the arched oaken door.

He shrugged again at my question, glancing down at me as I moved closer to him. “I mean, you would have likely found out anyway, because the sisters call me that around here. And also, I trust you, Robin.”

There was something about the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke that final sentence that made my heart skip a beat. And yet I felt even worse for listening in. Because he shouldn’t trust me. Not when I couldn’t even trust myself. I felt that none of us ought to place that level of trust in one another, given the stakes.

But I couldn’t help but feel touched all the same, and I decided to accept the compliment for now.

“Okay. Thank you,” I replied softly, offering him an appreciative, albeit guilty, smile.

“Welcome,” he replied, giving me a small smile back, and then he turned and began leading me toward the rectangular building.