The Girl Who Dared to Think by Bella Forrest (e reader for manga TXT) 📕

of the pills he gave you, actually, but it should be strong enough to get him to a four.”

“Really?” I said as I followed him, my eyes on the test tubes. “How does it work?”

Roark let out a huff. “As if I’m just going to tell you that,” he said.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Let me rephrase. How long does it take to kick in?”

“Ah.” He wore the ghost of a smile as he picked up a pestle and began grinding something in a tiny mortar. “Well, he already has some in his system, but I have to assume it’ll be gone before you can enact whatever plan you’ve got cooked up. I can use something to activate the metabolism to boost it.”

“Good,” I replied, “because I’m not sure how much time they’re going to give him. I have a little bit of time, but I got the impression from my mo—” I paused, unable to even mention her “—mentor that this should be done sooner, rather than later. A sort of... ‘hurry up and bite the bullet’ mentality.”

The last part came out bitter, but I couldn’t help it. I was doing everything I could to keep it together.

“Who are you?” Roark asked, breaking my bleak thoughts, and I looked up to see him staring at me. “You’re unlike any Knight I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks,” I replied, willing to take that as a compliment after what I’d seen tonight.

I continued to watch him make the pill while I began generating ideas about how I could give it to Grey. Whatever I came up with had to be convincing, believable, and reasonable, and I couldn’t risk letting Grey know who I was while I was in there.

Most of all, I couldn’t get caught.

16

“Absolutely not.”

Gerome looked at me sharply and blew out a pent-up breath of frustration, as if he were dealing with a petulant child. I watched him from the corner of my eye as I pretended to look up at some piping overhead. We were on patrol—which meant a lot of hours spent walking, trying to keep children from making too much mischief, or searching for thieves who were trying to steal food to save their ration cards (or who had lost their rations in illegal gambling). We’d been at it for six hours, and were heading back to the Citadel to put in our reports and meet with our Knight Commander to learn what our duties would be tomorrow. I was using the walk back to ask the one question I needed confirmation on: could I go talk with my prisoner, one on one?

I’d spent the better part of the night, after leaving Roark’s with the pill for Grey, trying to think about how to get inside. Sneaking in was not a possibility, and I was only a young woman; I doubted I could force my way in. Which meant I had to be clever.

“Why do you want to talk to him, Liana?” Gerome finally asked, and I looked over at him, giving him the carefully neutral face I’d been practicing in the mirror.

“Because I feel it’s important that I do,” I replied, and then I looked away, trying to act nonchalant. “What you’re asking me to do is not something I’m taking lightly, Gerome. The surprise still hasn’t faded, and I find myself wondering more about him. How his brain works, what his disease is really like.”

I came to a stop before him and performed a perfect snap turn, coming around to face him, and stopping him short. “I have to see it and hear it, so I know what dangerous behavior to look for.”

It was disgusting talking in that way—keeping my voice flat and disinterested while spouting the propaganda of bigots. But I knew approaching this emotionally would make everyone even more suspicious about my number... and how it was still at a nine. If I wanted this to work, I was going to have to finally play the role of perfect soldier.

At least now I have a good reason to, I thought, my mind already picturing Grey.

“I’m quite surprised to hear this coming from you,” Gerome said carefully. “Your mother netted me this morning and told me about your little outburst last night.”

I kept my face neutral and eyes blank—glossy and devoid of life. “My behavior last night was unacceptable. It must have been a fluke in my medication, no doubt brought on by the shock of what I witnessed.”

He stared at me, and then nodded. “I can understand that. Now, back to your request. Even with your explanation, I still have to deny you.”

“May I ask why?” I asked, the “may I” surprising even me. Who knew I could speak so formally when I wanted to?

“It has been proven,” he said with the tone of one delivering a familiar lecture, “that being near a one is psychologically dangerous, even with our rankings being so high. Thoughts from their kind can be insidious; I’ve seen good Knights fall before, when exposed to them. In a matter of days.”

His voice was soft, whisper thin, like brittle paper, and I watched as an old sorrow began to shine through his dark eyes. I knew he felt bad—and I understood why he would—and all I could feel was sorry for the “fallen Knights” he was referring to. At the end of the day, they were murderers, and I was guessing that the reality of what they were doing had, in the end, overwhelmed their loyalty to Scipio. It was sickening that anyone would be willing to just put aside all basic human decency in service of a machine.

I waited what I felt was a respectful amount of time before resuming the argument, unwilling to let it go. “Be that as it may—”

He held up a hand. “Enough.” His expression softened, and he put a large, club-like hand on his hip. “I think I see where you are going, Liana, and I need to be the first to tell