Leslie had taken to the dead Premier’s desk. His office had become hers, even though not all the bloodstains could be removed from the wallpaper or carpet. She always smiled when he entered. She always stood from her chair, circled the desk, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

“I am so glad to see you, Corday. What news have you brought?”

“Fifteen of our men died last night trying to procure a shipment of food.” He wasn’t talking about the soldiers she had gathered around her. He was talking about the original supporters of the resistance who were still in the dark about what was going on here. “Shepherd’s men defended their cache. Every case of fresh produce made it into the Citadel.”

“They didn’t die for nothing, dear Corday.” Leslie put a hand to his cheek, offering an expression of deep sadness. “They served as a distraction so my team might acquire a great deal of fertilizer left forgotten on the farm levels. Our first mission was successful. Those men and women’s sacrifice will be remembered.”

No one had discussed this with him. How could she knowingly have let him lead his men to their deaths? “A team left here on your orders?”

Smiling, Leslie nodded. “Yes, a small squad, hand-selected by me. I trust them implicitly. Last night each one of them proved they were worthy of that faith. Soon, we will have everything we need to craft military-grade explosives.”

There was one major impediment to Lady Kantor’s grand scheme, one Corday could not be quiet about. “We still do not know the location of the virus.”

“Your men have scoured the city with nothing to show for it for almost a year. Shepherd must keep it in the Citadel. We burn that building to ash, set off enough explosives to incinerate everything inside, the virus will be destroyed. Wasting time searching, as my uncle did, got us nowhere.” She took his hand, squeezing his fingers as she led him to sit so she might serve him a drink. “The true rebellion is about action.”

Watching her pour coffee from a china pot into a decorative cup, Corday wondered if she knew how ridiculous such an act of congenial etiquette was when they were talking of inciting a massacre.

If the plan was successful, several city structures would collapse, burn, bury people alive. Tens of thousands could die. But, if Shepherd’s regime fell, millions more would live.

Corday didn’t want the coffee, he didn’t want to sit in a lavish bloodstained room. He wanted his people to be free. “Claire is in the Citadel. You gave me your word that no attack would commence until she was rescued.”