Page 83 of The Song Rising

“And the external?” He gave it. “Thank you. Catrin, with me.”

“You’re just going to leave him?” she said. “He’ll alert Vance.”

“She already knows.” I stood.

Price’s silence was all I needed to confirm it. I took a pistol from the nearest bodyguard and checked it for bullets before turning my back on the Minister for Industry.

I didn’t breathe again until I had rounded the corner. Price had believed me, looked at me and seen someone who could murder innocents. Darker still was the realization that I had almost believed my own words, believed in my ability to carry them out if he denied me what I wanted. I could not allow myself to become a monster. I could not allow anyone else to look at me and see Hildred Vance in nascent form.

I was halfway back to the freight lift when his dreamscape guttered and vanished from my radar.

By the time I reached the overseers’ office, Price was dead.

Blood was everywhere, sprayed across the table and the carpet, pooling darkly around the Ironmaster’s neck. Catrin Attard stood over him, holding the knife that had opened his throat.

“You—” I gripped the door frame, white-knuckled. “You fool. What the hell have you done?”

“He had nothing else to offer.”

Her calm demeanor was unsettling. This wasn’t a hot-blooded killing.

“This was your aim all along,” I realized, cold all over.

Catrin nodded. “Killing Price? That has always been my goal—mine and Arcana’s. But this was the first time we saw an opportunity—and a scapegoat if it all went wrong.” She smiled, and I knew who that scapegoat would be. “Big risk, assassinating an Archon official.” She wiped her knife on her uniform. “If the response on the streets is fear and anger, I can blame you. No one has to know I was even here. But if it’s deemed heroic, I’ll make sure everyone knows that I’m the Attard sister who ridded Manchester of the Ironmaster at last. Finished him with her own knife.”

She smiled again at my stunned face.

“You wait and see, Mahoney. The Scuttlers will rally behind me. I’m the true heir. I’m the one who’s willing to do what’s necessary for this citadel. In a few days’ time, I’ll be Scuttling Queen.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” I said. “Vance will have revenge on this entire citadel for what you’ve done.”

“She would have come here in the end. And the good thing is that the Scuttlers will be ready.” Her smile widened, showing teeth. “Who did you kill to get your crown, Mahoney?”

I shook my head, disgusted with myself for not seeing this, and left her with the corpse. As I broke into a run, I tried to smooth out my breathing. Price had been wrong about me. I was still naïve, still the woman who had walked into that trap in the warehouse. I should have trusted my gut, used Attard to get us into the factory and then forced her to wait outside.

I had to make this worth it. We didn’t have long now until someone found the body and reinstated the security protocol.

The freight lift took me back to the lower floor. When I emerged, I could see there would be enough confusion to cover our escape. I slipped through the moving line of workhands and into another passageway, the one Tom had taken when we’d separated.

I found the others hiding near the vast door to the loading bay. Without pausing for breath, I tapped in the eight-digit code.

“Where’s Catrin?” Eliza said.

I ducked beneath the door as soon as it began to open. “Leave her. We don’t have much time.”

On the other side, I keyed in the same code. The others just got under before we were sealed in.

Maria threw a switch. A flicker crossed the length and breadth of the ceiling before stark lights thrummed to life. The loading bay, which was large enough to accommodate several heavy goods vehicles, was piled with crates, stacked in units so high they almost touched the ceiling. Several amaurotic workers lifted their hands when I pointed my stolen gun at them.

“Underqueen,” Maria said.

She sounded strange. Handing the pistol to Eliza, I joined her beside a crate, the lid of which was slightly ajar. We hefted it aside and made our way through layers of packaging before we got to the final container.

Inside it was a rifle.

For a heartbeat, I just stared at it, uncomprehending.

“Guns.” My mouth was sandpaper-dry. “But the scanners must be here, theymust—”

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