“I apologize. I shouldn’t have asked.” He cleared his throat. “You can tell Chairwoman Randolph that we’ve already contacted Burgundy and ensured that every Wilson account will be turned over to your family by court order. They stopped their bellyaching when they realized your mother gave birth to several of the prime minister’s children. I’ll send the chairwoman a message when I find out more information.”
“She’ll appreciate that.” Lila drained her mug of chocolate. “Call if you need any extra blackcoats, chief.”
Lila stood, but she had not made it two steps from her chair before Shaw called her back. “Wait,” he said, rubbing at his mustache again. “Have you turned on the news this morning?”
She raised her brow and sat back down. Her stomach pretzeled as her mind rushed back to Reaper’s news story.
Perhaps it hadn’t only been on his server.
“Something happened last night. I figured that I should be the one to tell you, to… Oracle’s light, I don’t know.” He scrolled through his palm and slid it across his desk.
A video had frozen. Lila touched the screen to let it play.
Peter Kruger stood before the capitol in Vienna, dwarfed by the Emperor’s Palace. In rusty German, he claimed that he had shot the American prime minister’s eldest daughter and bombed Bullstow for the glory of the mighty Holy Roman Empire. He’d then stowed away on a barge headed for the homeland. He spoke so quickly that she could barely read each English caption before it disappeared.
When he finished his speech, a large crowd cheered around the newest member of the aristocracy, the king’s elder half-brother returned home.
The rightful king. The rightful emperor.
Lila wondered how long Peter would last. King Lukas had not yet released a statement, and the men surrounding Peter were known critics of the crown. At best, he’d be a slave again, a pawn to bored and bloody aristocrats.
Perhaps he knew and didn’t care. He’d been a pawn to the same sort in America all his life. At least now he wouldn’t have to clean the bathrooms.
“I’m sorry, Chief Randolph. I’m sorry he got away.” Chief Shaw looked at her as though he held a glued-together vase.
But Lila had known the vase would be broken.
Tristan had called, asking for her permission. The plan was good. Peter had wanted to leave the Allied Lands, and had been overjoyed that Lila had forgiven him and given him her blessing. He even agreed to claim responsibility for the bombing, knowing it wouldn’t hurt his reputation in Germany. Tristan had told him plenty of details about it. He’d even given Peter a few AAS flyers before burning the rest at the shop. Then he’d left the rest of the nitro so that the militia could find it after Peter’s confession.
Tristan had not been sorry to see the explosives go. He’d told her that he didn’t have a use for the stuff any longer. The violence of the Wilson mob had tempered his excitement for armed rebellion. A child had died in the fighting, a consequence he had never before considered.
He finally understood the tragedy of causalities.
Peter had shaken hands on their agreement, vowing to drop the nitro’s location into his speech. He claimed it was the least he could do, for no one had ever done anything to help him before, not in his entire life. His only request was that Tristan keep Maria safe while he tested the ice in Germany.
Tristan had done him one better. He’d promised to try and recover Oskar as well.
Deep down, Lila knew they weren’t helping him. Not really. She’d offered halfhearted counsel, asking him to stay, but Peter wouldn’t hear of it. Like Oskar, he’d spent his entire life dreaming of going home to Germany. He was merely being cautious. He was merely setting up a place for his children to live.
He was walking into a devil’s trap.
Perhaps if Peter had not tried to murder her, Lila might have spent more time persuading him. And she couldn’t silence the thought, deep down inside, that Peter’s return would shake up the empire and would waste a great deal of King Lukas’s energy and focus.
There was still a war, even if there was a lull in the hostilities.
“It’s not your fault, Chief Shaw. My own militia couldn’t find the man. I should have put more blackcoats on it. I thought discretion would be a better way of handling it. I was wrong.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I doubt he stayed in New Bristol for very long. I still find it hard to believe that a slave bombed that law office, though. From what I’ve heard, the man can barely read.”
“He doesn’t need to know how to read to set off a bomb. Besides, look how wrong I was about Patrick Wilson.”
“True. He also has information that we did not put in our official reports. He couldn’t have gotten it any other way. I don’t know why it’s bugging me so much.”
“Because you’re ignoring the help he had carrying it out. He didn’t act alone. I doubt he did anything but watch.”
Chief Shaw slumped in his chair. “Yes, according to Peter, we’ve had German spies in New Bristol this whole time, and we didn’t even know it.”
“I doubt his conspirators were German spies. I suspect Zephyr hired them to hide something for the chairwoman and her son. That’s why you can’t find the others. He probably bused them back to wherever they came from the moment they were finished.”