She’d told Zula Slyk that she wanted to be like her, the person to tell the story when the story was over.
Well, Zula was dead. Lourdes was dead. There was no one left to tell this story but Lola.
If the world learned that Enne was Veil’s daughter, Enne’s pardon would vanish. Any semblance of peace would vanish. Lola might not have been much of a player before, but even she knew that, when it came to finishing this story once and for all, she held the winning hand.
Her stomach rumbled.Muck, she was starving. While Poppy was focused on the road, she reached down and picked up a fallen macaron. But before she could stuff it in her mouth, Poppy slapped it out of her hand.
“Bitches don’t get macarons,” Poppy told her.
Lola let out a howl of shocked laughter. “Are you serious? I’m hungry.”
Poppy straightened, as though trying to fit herself into the new role of gangster. “I could’ve put you in the trunk. I couldstillput you in the trunk.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
Lola reached down to pick up another macaron, and Poppy swerved the car. Lola smacked her head hard against the center console. She sat up. “What? You trying to kill us?”
“Just sit still until we get there,” Poppy snapped.
So much for being remarkably mature. “Or what? You’ll crash the car?”
“You know who suggested this entire affair?” Poppy asked.
“Enne?” Lola answered, rolling her eyes, then wincing. Her head ached.
“Tock.”
That shouldn’t have surprised Lola like it did. Tock had obviously guessed Arabella was in the apartment and told the others, which was how they’d gotten the idea to use Lola as bait. But she hadn’t imagined Tock to have suggested kidnapping Lola.
And it shouldn’t have stung like it did, either. Lola didn’t know Tock. She shouldn’t care what the girl thought of her. Now that they’d kidnapped her, she was done caring about her old friends.
“You sold Tock out for what? A history lesson?” Poppy goaded. “Was what you learned really so important?”
Lola had sold no one out. She’d been tricked. But she couldn’t help that now. “What I learned changed everything.”
“Should it have?”
When Enne was the last surviving Mizer, capable of throwing the entire Republic’s tenuous political balance into turmoil, it did matter. Because Lola did understand the power of legends, and that kind of story was a loaded weapon.
The thought made her eyes flicker to Poppy’s left side, at the gun holstered at her hip.
“Your father was a monarchist who almost won a Senate seat,” Lola chided, slowly leaning forward. “You don’t think it matters?”
“I think other things matter more.”
“Those are empty words. They don’t mean anything.”
“So that’s your political philosophy? Kill the people with the power to change things? Explain to me how that makes you better than anyone else.”
Lola eyed the street ahead. Poppy was preparing to turn. That was when she’d strike.
“Enne wouldn’t change things for the better.”
“You think so little of her?”
“She held a gun to my brother’s head. She’s literally the reason why I’m a hostage. Should I really think better of my captor?”
“You should think better of your friend.”
