Now?
He would drown her.
Rebel or not, every corner of the city would be talking about her. Even if the Counseil changed the script for the Lisette Plouffe flyers,word would spread of her performance. The Restes would see her as a symbol of change, and symbols could not be given a moment of power.
Lafontaine would need to end Elara. Soon.
“There you are!” The curtain swished behind him as Chantal rushed forward, cheeks flushed. “Listen, I know you’re probably furious, but she had a reason to hide.”
“I know.”
“No, you need to listen, Nik. You have every reason to hate the rebels, but—”
“I knew who she was, Chantal.”
Her mouth gaped. “You what?”
“I knew before the first round, when I tracked Gaetan down. I found this.” He pulled the photograph from his pocket and handed it to her.
Chantal looked at it. “Is this…?”
“Yes.” Nik took it back.
“Then why didn’t you tell your father earlier? Why didn’t you give her up?”
Nik leaned his elbows against the balcony, so he could keep Elara in his sights. She walked with total confidence only because she had no idea the hell his father would bring upon her soon enough.
“I couldn’t,” he said. “I tried using Gaetan to push her toward me, then again when…” He wouldn’t tell Chantal about their midnight confessions. Those had stopped being part of his plan days ago.
“Oh, Nik.”
He hated the softness in her voice.
What he knew it meant.
What he’d been denying himself all along.
Elara Rousseau had ceased to be his puppet long ago. Now she was… something more. It used to be his father’s voice that guided him, but now all he could hear was her.
“You need to tell her everything,” Chantal said. “Allof it, Nik, or you’ll lose her.”
He rubbed his bottom lip in thought, staring down at Elara, who never had a chance of fitting in. She was born to be different, to be bold. Being near her had made him feel that way too, but it was only a momentary respite.
If he told her even half the things he’d hidden, she’d hate him.
“We can help her escape the city tonight,” he said, “and we’ll be back to our old lives by morning.”
Chantal laughed. “You really are thick.”
“You’ve said as much before. What makes this a special occasion?”
She leaned her shoulder against his.
“Because you think you know how everything—everyone—works, but you haven’t the slightest clue.” She nodded down to Elara, who finished making her way back to her station. “Elara’s not the type of person to run.”
“Especially after that speech,” Blai said, dropping into a chair to his right. “We’re ruined.”
Chantal rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by fatalists.”
