“Wait, what is that supposed to mean?” Enne asked, immediately thinking of Lola, of Jac.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant that...you’re good at fighting your way out of trouble. The Shadow Game, Revolution Bridge, St. Morse... If we were cornered with guns aimed at us from all sides, I’d trust you with my life. But that isn’t what this is. This is politics. And if I’m going to trust you, I’m asking you to trust me.”
It would’ve been easier to relent. Enne wanted his arms around her again. She wanted all the burden of her identity off her shoulders. But she couldn’t stop herself from snapping, “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s the woman who’s already tried to kill both of us. You think playing weak will make her forget who we are?”
When he didn’t respond, Enne closed the distance between them again. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed against him, a touch that felt so familiar, so safe. But Levi was a statue beneath her, so she continued, her voice wobbling.
“I made a mistake. I know that. But we can’t change hundreds of years of history. We willalwaysbe the enemy.”
“Don’t pretend like you know more about the Revolution than me. This has been my history long before it waseveryours.” Levi clenched his hands into fists and broke away from her, as though he couldn’t bear to touch her. “You can’t help it. You always attack first.”
No, Enne had alwaysbeenattacked first. By Vianca. By Sedric. By Lola.
“What I can’t help,” Enne snapped, “is trying everything I can to survive. Forallof us to survive.”
“And you’re the reason we’ve survived before,” Levi said coolly. “But you’re also the reason Jac is dead.”
Enne froze as though she’d been struck. Itfeltas though she had. If she couldn’t convince her best friend or the boy she loved that she wasn’t the villain, then she couldn’t convince anyone.
“Say you don’t hate me,” Enne murmured.
“What?” he bit back.
“Say it. Say you don’t hate me.”
Instead, without a word, Levi swept past her out the door.
Enne followed after him, so startled and hurt that she tripped over herself as she raced down the hallway. Levi stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down on the Spirits and Scarhands below.
“The Dove will not be dying today,” Levi declared, and Enne would’ve yanked him away if he had not purposefully placed himself in the center of the spotlight. At the uproar that immediately followed, Levi raised his voice. “I know what the past few months have been like—the arrests, the curfews. I understand that fighting feels like our only option right now, but it isn’t. Because what I’m offering you will put everything from the past few months behind us. Each of you will receive a formal pardon from the wigheads—no more hiding, no more bounties.”
Shocked whispers broke out downstairs, and Enne had to grasp the bannister to steady herself. Levi was dissolving everything Enne and the Scarhands had agreed upon. Everything Enne had engineered to keep herself and her friends safe.
“How do you know that?” Mansi asked him, her arms crossed.
“Because I’m going to convince the wigheads that the North Side deserves a second chance,” Levi answered.
“So we just, what, forget the fact that our friends are dead?” Mansi shot back. “This Dove deserves to pay for that.” Her words felt more loaded than from this one exchange, and Enne remembered Chez Phillips, another of one of Mansi’s old friends. But Levi had never paid for that, either.
The reminder only infuriated Enne more. If she was terrible, then so was Levi. Painting her as a villain didn’t make him a hero.
“I know that,” Levi told Mansi awkwardly, “and I’m sorry for what happened. But this Dove isn’t the one who murdered your friends—that was Ivory.”
The Spirits were watching Enne with wide, startled expressions, and the Scarhands still looked unconvinced. It made Enne hopeful—it wasn’t working. Levi wasn’t going to convince them. But before she could step in with a new idea, he added, “I don’t know you all, and I didn’t know Scavenger well, either. But I knew Eight Fingers. And that’s why I want to help you. I’m going to give each of you volts.”
The mood of the audience changed instantaneously, their gazes flickering between Levi and her. Even Mansi, who had once heard similar empty promises from Levi, regarded Enne with a look of newfound possibilities.
Enne grabbed Levi tightly by the arm. “What are you doing?” she asked hoarsely. “If you wanted the Chancellor to forget that we’re a Mizer and an orb-maker, than the last thing we should be doing is making volts.”
“I don’t plan on abusing our power,” Levi grumbled. “I’m only rectifying the situation that you’ve created. Harrison will understand when you explain it to him when we next meet. When you help us find a way to end Bryce’s game.”
Enne paused. This was not a truce, but Levi was offering her a way out. Except despite Levi’s confidence, Enne didn’t trust Harrison—she didn’t trust anyone related to Vianca. Just because Enne had made a mistake didn’t mean that Levi wasn’t making one, too.
“I’ll start working with youifyou get the pardon,” Enne told him. “For the North Side, for the gangs, and for me.”
Levi stared at her intently, then nodded. “I will.”
“You know, you didn’t have to betray me to get what you wanted,” she said shakily. “I hope it was worth it.”
