Resurgence (29 page)

‘That it?’

‘Yes.’

I don’t tell him about the tube on my waist that could kill so many people and he takes us at our words, placing the weapons carefully into a wooden crate on the ground in front of one of
the vans.

He points to the van next to it. ‘Get in then.’

The vehicle is dark green, with a soft canvas cover stretched over the large bed at the back. I have never seen one that isn’t faded, scratched and rusted – let alone one with
tyres.

We look at each other, confused, but Greg is insistent. ‘Come on, it’ll be dark soon enough and you’ve got a hell of a journey ahead of you.’

As no one seems keen to move, I take the lead, hopping onto the back step and pulling myself into the area under the cover. The floor is smothered with mud and grass and it smells of dirt and
sweat. There are two benches running along the length and I sit at the far end as the others join me.

None of us has ever travelled in a vehicle before, but we have grown up seeing footage of them and they were common when our parents were children. I have spent years fishing under bonnets and
pulling electrical cables from the doors, but the roar of the engine and vibration it sends through my feet is both exhilarating and scary.

We are enclosed and cannot see the driver, our only light coming from the space we climbed in through. After turning slowly, I think it is going to be okay, but then the van lurches and roars,
bumping us all up into the air. Only five minutes have passed when I have had enough. My backside and neck are hurting from being thrown all ways and I have apologised to everyone at least three
times for banging into them.

After clunking heads with Jela for a second time, I give up, curling up and lying on the floor. Eventually, the van springs forward and the terrain levels out as Knave shouts over the noise of
the engine to tell me we are on a road.

I spend the rest of the trip watching through the back. Most of the roads we have crossed in England are broken and cracked. They would be unusable even if there was fuel for vehicles. Here,
some are cracked and it is still a bumpy ride, but the van has no problems travelling. I watch the winding path trail behind us, surrounded by beautiful hills and fields in almost every direction.
We pass a few towns and villages, but never go through them, only slowing as the sun begins to set.

After another uncomfortable series of bumps, we come to a stop in a wide cobbled courtyard lit by posts of white light. Before we can think about climbing out, a dozen guards dressed the same as
Greg march into view. Each is carrying a rifle, although no one points a weapon in our direction.

‘This way,’ the guard at the front says, before leading us across the darkened courtyard, through an enormous wooden door and into a series of dimly lit corridors. The ground is
sloped and we are constantly moving uphill until we reach a set of wide double doors, with a pair of guards on either side. None of them looks at us, but as soon as the guard leading us says
‘let them in’, they move swiftly, effortlessly opening the doors. I expect at least one of them to grunt in exertion, seeing as the thick wooden barriers soar so high above, but there
is nothing.

The seven of us are led inside, stopping at the top of a flight of stairs to marvel at the sight. The room below is enormous, a huge amphitheatre stretching from where we are standing down to
the stage. Row upon row of seats curve into concentric semi-circles to fit the space. There is a window that extends along the full width of the room, providing a perfect view of a vast area of
parkland and a huge green hillock beyond. White lights line the whole length of the trimmed grass, stretching far into the distance.

‘Breathtaking, isn’t it?’ says a woman’s voice, her accent strong and similar to Greg’s.

At the bottom of the stairs there is a short, thin figure with long dark brown hair. She is wearing an elegant deep blue gown that trails behind her. The guard turns and leaves, clunking the
door shut as I descend towards the woman. Her green eyes are bright with interest and she has a half-smile on her face.

‘It’s lovely,’ I say.

She stretches her hand out for me to shake. ‘Thank you very much. I’m Minister Prime Lucia. Welcome to the Palace of Holyroodhouse.’

Her touch is soft but firm, her fingers cold. She shakes hands with everyone and invites us to sit in the lowest row at the front of the theatre. It is hard not to be drawn to
the beautiful view through the window, but I am naturally suspicious of people being overly friendly and continue watching Lucia as she greets the others.

The chairs in the front row are spacious, comfortable and slightly bouncy. It is a nice change from the back of the van.

‘Why are you looking at me strangely?’ she asks.

I scratch my ankle with the other foot, instinctively feeling for the security of the knife that is no longer there. ‘I’ve met two Minister Primes and neither of them have been very
nice.’

She sits on the edge of the stage, facing us. ‘But you were happy to come here without weapons?’

‘We didn’t have much choice.’

‘You had the choice not to come at all.’

I nod, feeling uneasy at how green her eyes are. They are so beguiling that they make it hard to look away. ‘Our old Minister Prime told me King Victor was obsessed by Scotland.’

‘So you thought you’d come to see what the fuss was about?’

‘More or less.’

She nods, smiling, making her eyes glow brighter. ‘I’ve only been in this job for four years. It’s fair to say your King
was
obsessed by Scotland. From what I’ve
seen, he has more pressing concerns now.’

I try to ignore the insinuation. ‘How was he obsessed?’

‘Lots of reasons, many of them historical. I assume you know this used to be one united kingdom?’ She doesn’t wait for a reply. ‘When you began fighting among yourselves,
we finally declared our independence. Your nationalists and rebels were too busy fighting each other to worry. You spent years battling, throwing away the few resources you had left, while we spent
the time conserving and planning.’

‘Is that when you built the wall?’

‘Exactly. You invested your time in war; we put ours into protecting ourselves. It’s amazing what you can achieve when you have to.’

‘What happened when the King took over?’

‘He wanted us to rejoin the union. He sent people up here but we wouldn’t let them through the barrier. Then he sent more men, this time with weapons. Wave after wave, year after
year. They tried sailing around the wall, flying over it, tunnelling under it – but we were always a step ahead.’

‘How old are you?’

Her skin is almost flawless and it is hard to guess her age. She can’t have been much older than a child when the war began.

‘Did your mother never teach you it’s rude to ask a lady her age?’ She is smiling, not serious.

I shake my head. ‘She kept telling me to stop playing in the mud.’

Lucia bursts out laughing, slapping the soft material of her dress and pointing at me. ‘You’re always so serious when you’re on our screens. I didn’t realise you were
funny too.’

I’m not sure what to say but she continues anyway. ‘I’m thirty-five. When war broke out, I was ten.’

‘Our Minister Primes have been older.’

‘They’re also imposed upon you. My people
chose
me.’ I want to ask how but she doesn’t elaborate, moving on quickly. ‘There is a smooth transition between
Minister Primes here and a clear exchange of knowledge. One of the first things I found out was that if your King had come to our wall himself and simply asked for an audience, he would have been
granted it. He never came, he sent men with weapons. Hearing that story taught me one thing: don’t trust your King – and don’t trust people who approach with force.’

‘We had weapons . . .’

Her words are sweet but her tone steely. ‘If you had tried to use them anywhere near the wall, you wouldn’t be standing here now.’ She narrows her eyes as if able to read my
thoughts and I feel glad there isn’t a knife around my ankle. ‘Anyway, “obsessed” is the right word. He only stopped sending people here a few months ago, when I believe
other matters started to attract his attention.’

She stands and peers along the line. ‘Some of you have been on our screens but I don’t know you all.’ She focuses back on me. ‘I would prefer it if we could continue this
conversation in private, Miss Blackthorn.’

‘Silver.’

‘Okay . . . “Silver”.’ My name sounds different coming from her mouth, not just because of the accent. It is as if she relishes saying the word. ‘Your friends will
be fed and looked after. You’re all welcome to stay the night, or we will return you to the barrier once Silver and I have finished speaking.’

They look at me, asking what they should do, but I don’t know either. We have already taken the biggest risk by leaving our weapons and coming here, so it seems pointless to do anything
other than listen to what Lucia has to say. I whisper that I’ll see them later and then a guard comes to lead them away.

When it is just the two of us, Lucia turns and walks towards the window. ‘Come.’

I climb onto the stage and follow until I am standing next to her, staring towards the parkland. There are lights illuminating the hill in the middle, making it glow so that anyone nearby can
see it. It is transfixing, beautiful. I have an urge to leave the palace and race across the grass, before climbing to the top.

Lucia nods towards it. ‘Do you know what it’s called?’ she asks.

‘No.’

‘I suppose there’s no reason why you should. That’s Arthur’s Seat.’

‘Arthur must’ve been pretty big if that’s where he sat.’

She smiles at me, realising I’m not being serious. ‘When I was first elected, I would come here each evening and just watch,’ she says. ‘I never get tired of the
view.’

‘Were you born here?’

‘Not in this palace, but this is a small part of a city named Edinburgh. I was born a few miles away. I used to come to this park as a little girl.’

I already knew the answer – she talks of the scenery the way I think about Martindale. There’s nowhere quite like the place in which you grew up.

She steps closer to the glass until her nose is almost touching it. ‘You should know, Silver, that there’s no way I’m going to sanction the first full-out Scotland versus
England war in over seven hundred years.’

‘Is that why you think I’m here?’

‘Isn’t it?’

I don’t reply, watching as a white bird lands on the grass in front of the window and starts to peck at the surface.

‘How come your vehicles have fuel? We grew up being told the oil had run out.’

‘For the most part, it has, but there are many, many litres in our reserves. We only use it when we have to – for matters of national emergency or special occasions.’

‘Which am I?’

As she turns to face me, the bird is startled by something in the distance and soars into the air, swooping away from the lights, out of sight.

‘Surely you can work that out for yourself?’

‘I’m going to assume because you’ve trusted your guards to leave me alone with you that it’s a special occasion.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You seem to know a lot about me, but I know hardly anything about you.’

Lucia hitches her dress up and sits on the floor, crossing her legs. I would be surprised if she had done it at any point, let alone when she is wearing an outfit as striking as anything I have
ever seen. I remember the purple one my mother gave me before the Reckoning that fitted so perfectly the first time I tried it on. I still have it buried at the bottom of my bag and wonder if I
will ever wear it again. Feeling awkward standing over her, I sit too, crossing my legs in the same way.

‘What would you like to know?’ Lucia asks.

I find myself agitatedly scratching my face, unsure. ‘I suppose I want to know what it’s like here. I’ve grown up being hungry and living in one place. Worrying what would
happen when I had to take the Reckoning at sixteen, being told off by my mum . . .’

Lucia laughs. ‘I was told off by my mum a lot too. Not for playing in mud like you, but for running off all the time.’

‘I got told off for that too.’

‘Why am I not surprised?’ She breathes out deeply. ‘If you’re looking for answers to what’s gone wrong then I can’t help you. There are people who are hungry
here too. We struggle to make sure everyone has enough electricity. Lots of people have moved from where they used to live in the country to be in the cities – but that was their choice. A
lot of our old prejudices have been put to one side, but it is still a struggle every day. That’s why I’m here.’

‘You sound like you care.’

She makes sure I’m looking at her before replying. ‘I really do.’

‘What do you know about me?’

‘I know you’re the most talked-about person in our country.’

‘Really?’

‘As soon as my guards radioed to say there was someone at the wall with a silver flash of hair yelling that she was Silver Blackthorn, I told them to get you here. Do you want to guess how
many people have come through the barrier since it went up?’

I shake my head. ‘I have no idea.’

‘Seven. One of them is here, the other six upstairs, hopefully having a nice meal. The only way it can be switched off, even for a second, is with the full approval of our executive
– that’s a dozen people, including me.’

‘And you all wanted me to come in?’

‘You wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.’

‘Wow.’

‘Wow indeed.’

For a few minutes, I sit and watch through the window. A rabbit darts across the lawn, quickly followed by a second. Even the creatures here seem tamer.

‘You’ve not actually told me what you know about me.’

‘It’s hard to answer that,’ she replies. ‘We have access to the broadcasts from your four Realms, so we’ve seen everything that’s been said about you in the
past few months. From your attempt on the King’s life, to your most recent broadcast.’

‘I didn’t actually try to kill him. It was meant to paralyse him temporarily so we could escape.’