Page 19 of The Flame

Geneva had already taken care of that. The councilmen and their heirs were locked up. She’d never release them. Well, not until they’d been wiped clean and carved out into empty shells.

I spent another five minutes convincing my father that I wasn’t in imminent danger. The old council wasn’t a threat. I was pretty sure Geneva had neutralized the Puritans, too.

Then I had to excuse myself, if I didn’t want to be late for my meeting with Geneva.

When we said our goodbyes, my father’s mood seemed marginally less grave than when I’d arrived. He didn’t need to know that the heirs weren’t going to stay locked away. They weren’t going to be wiped clean or carved out. Not if I could help it.

Geneva had claimed a corner office on the top floor of the building for herself. Two walls of windows and a stately desk that looked out over the pavilion between here and the town square.

She didn’t bother with small talk.

“You’ve requested a position at the rehab center,” she said while I was still walking toward her desk.

That sounded like I’d called in a favor. Seriously? It was laughable. As if I’d ever been given the option of calling in favors. Both Rose and Janice had made it clear that I shouldn’t expect any preferential treatment.

“I didn’t request anything.” I stood behind one of the pair of visitor chairs, curling my fingers over the leather back-rim. “I applied for the role by filling in a standard form.”

“Hmm.” Her gaze searched mine, her gray eyes narrowed and hard as steel.

She had a way of looking at you that felt like she was hunting through your thoughts. I couldn’t be sure how much she saw, but probably more than I wanted her to. I’d never been as good with masks as Roman was.

“Is there a problem?” I asked when the silence dragged on too long.

“I’ll be frank,” she said. “I’m not sure you’re a suitable candidate for such a sensitive role, Georga. The last time we spoke, you were reluctant to accept that sometimes one has to make difficult, impossible decisions.”

She was referring to her decision about Daniel and the heirs.The council must be stamped out in all its iterations.We didn’t execute people in Capra, we sent them to rehab. I was more convinced than ever that my instincts were correct. I needed this role, so I could be in place when Daniel was transferred.

Geneva wasn’t a stupid woman.

She’d seen straight through me.

“I didn’t outright agree with your decision. That doesn’t make me emotionally soft.” I looked her in the eye, daring her to search deeper, all the way to where I buried my real truths.

Because I knew the heirs were a threat.

I wasn’t an idiot.

“I don’t like it, but I understand why you wouldn’t simply release Daniel and the older heirs without taking precautionary measures.” I did understand. That didn’t mean I liked it, or would accept there wasn’t another way.

I couldn’t pull off a complete U-turn, though. “The younger heirs, however. That still disturbs me, if I’m honest. They’re only children.”

Geneva steepled her fingers beneath her chin, and gave a slow nod. “The younger boys have already been released back to their families. The Sisterhood has been received more warmly than we’d anticipated, and our foothold in Capra will be sufficiently established by the time they’re old enough to be of any value to dissidents. I try my best to be pragmatic, Georga, never cruel.”

I accepted that with a thin smile, then pushed my advantage home. “I betrayed my husband and my friends to bring you Julian Edgar’s handprint. I know all about making difficult, impossible decisions.”

“You’ve certainly proven yourself,” she conceded. “Very well, I’ll let Janice know that I’ve approved the request.”

Just like that?

My heart thudded so loudly, I wasn’t sure how she couldn’t hear it. But she dismissed me without further interrogation. I wondered if my father was right, and if Geneva knew it, too. It wouldn’t be as easy to snuff out my flame as she’d threatened it would be.

I walked out the building with renewed confidence and strength. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been cowering beneath defeat and self-persecution until it started to lift from my miserable soul.

I wasn’t perfect. I’d never pretended to be. But neither was anyone else. I wasn’t always happy about it, but I was always prepared to accept the consequences of my actions. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight to change the consequences. That also didn’t mean I had to accept everything thrown at me.

6

Jessie lived on a pretty street of white-washed terraces just off the town square. I parked my bicycle against the picket fence and rapped on her door. Across the street, a woman flung open her window and shook out a blanket. Farther up, a mother pushed a stroller on the sidewalk.

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