Once An Eve Novel

my shoulder. His eyes darted to the soldiers, now stationed along the walls of the circular lobby. “Listen to me,” he said slowly, his words barely above a whisper. His face was calm. “We don’t have much time.”
    “What are you doing?” I tried to push him away but he came closer, his hand still on me, his fingers digging into my skin.
    “It’s over,” he said softly. “As far as you are concerned there is no Trail, there are no more tunnels. You never met Harper, or Curtis, or any of the other dissidents. As far as you know, Caleb was working alone.”
    “What do you know about Caleb?”
    Reginald looked down. “A lot. Harper and Caleb died today, fighting against this regime.”
    I shook my head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Look at me,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. He didn’t stop until my eyes met his. “You know me as Reginald—but others know me as Moss .”
    He stepped back, letting his words sink in. I stared at his face, seeing him for the first time, the man who was always scribbling in that notepad, running stories in the paper, clipping quotes to suit his needs. This was the same man who’d helped Caleb out of the labor camps, who’d helped build the dugout. He was the one who’d organized the Trail. “Caleb’s dead,” I repeated. A numbness spread out in my chest.
    “You have to continue on as though this never happened,” he continued. “You have to marry Charles.”
    “I don’t have to do anything.” I struggled free from his grip. “What will that accomplish?” The sound of cheering swelled outside the Palace’s front entrance.
    “You need to be here as the Princess,” he whispered, his lips an inch away from my ear. “So you can kill your father.”
    He stared at me intently. He didn’t say anything else, instead flipping open the pad and pretending to make notes of our conversation. Then he signaled the soldiers back over, following us into the elevator in complete silence.

forty-two
     
    WHEN I RETURNED TO MY SUITE, THE KING WAS WAITING FOR me. He stared at the wedding dress laid out on the bed, a bundle of papers clutched in his hands.
    “You said you’d let him go. You showed me pictures, took me to his cell,” I said, unable to contain my anger any longer. “You lied to me.”
    The King paced the length of the room. “I don’t need to explain myself, certainly not to you. You don’t understand this country. You knew about people who were building a tunnel to the outside and you didn’t tell me.” He turned, leveling his finger in my face. “Do you have any idea what kind of danger that would’ve put civilians in? Having an open passage into the wild?”
    “The soldiers shot them,” I said, my voice trembling.
    The King crumpled the papers in his hand. “Those men have been organizing dissidents for months, planning to bring weapons and who knows what into this City. They had to be stopped.”
    “ Killed ,” I snapped, the tears hot in my eyes. “You mean killed—not ‘stopped.’ Say what you mean.”
    “Do not speak to me that way.” The blood rushed to his face. “I’ve had enough. I came here this morning, early, to bring you this,” he said, throwing the bundle of papers at me. They landed on the floor. “I came to tell you how proud I was of you and the woman you’re becoming.” He let out a low, sorrowful laugh.
    But I was barely listening, my mind instead running over the events of the morning. He’d ordered Harper and Caleb killed. But who had told him about the tunnel beneath the wall? How had Stark gotten there before me? The questions ran through my mind on an endless loop. Caleb is dead , I kept repeating, but nothing could make it feel real.
    “There are nearly half a million people downstairs,” he continued, “waiting for their Princess to come down the street with her father, to offer their good wishes before she is married. I will not keep them waiting.” He headed to the door, his fingers pounding the keypad. “Beatrice! Come help the Princess get ready!” he yelled before disappearing down the hall.
    The door slammed shut behind him. I let out a deep breath, feeling the room expand in his absence. I looked down at my hands, which burned now, my wrists red from where the restraints had been. I kept seeing Caleb, his face before he fell, the way his arm was crushed beneath him. I closed my eyes. It was too much. I knew he couldn’t have survived, but the idea that he was