Page 97 of The Enemy's Daughter

“They embraced the old world,” he says with a growl. He seems to fight something inside himself, then his eyes go distant. “We were given a chance to start over. To reset all the ways we had gonewrong from the natural order of things. This was a gift; I told Farron that, and they threw it all away.”

My head lifts, unsure I’m hearing him correctly. He spoke to Farron? When?

“Oh, you didn’t know I was one of them?”

“What?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “Why am I not surprised Farron hid his most shameful secret from his son? Then you’ll get the whole truth. From me. Before the bombs hit, the old world’s corruption went far beyond what I’ve taught you. It was so evil, I refused to let even a seed of it be planted here.”

He bows his head, takes a slow breath, and then scowls as he raises his chin. “The old world made no space for men like me. Strong men. Men who were born to lead the weak, and the weaker sex—women. They preferred incompetence. And it didn’t matter what job I took or what woman I pursued, the system, the people—all of it—was rigged against me, and I was rejected over and over. My strengths meant nothing. They didn’t care what made mespecial. In fact, it was worse than that—their women were so manipulative, they’d make a game of tempting me, only to turn me down. They thrived on insulting me, saying I was too ugly. Too aggressive. Always, too aggressive.” He stabs his finger at me. “But I wouldn’t have had to turn hostile if they’d only listened to me.”

He turns to look out my window.

“When the world fell, it was the first time I was truly respected. My tormentors lost their advantage because their money was useless. Their motor vehicles and high-rise buildings were ashes. In order to live, you had to fight, and I... was very good at that.

“I welcomed this new way even though it was hard and... attimes lonely. By the time I came upon Kingsland, I hadn’t seen intact buildings in years. Or people who were civil—which the people there were, at first. It was refreshing. But their security was a problem, so I helped them build their electric fence.”

This can’t be happening.

“There I met a woman.” He pauses to swallow. “She had arrived in the first wave. A founding family member. She was very tall but meek. Appropriately submissive, or so I thought. I convinced her to marry me seven days later, thinking that I’dfinallyfound a suitable wife.” His face tightens, as if he’s in pain. “Like I said... I know exactly what it takes for a cut on Tristan’s neck to appear on yours.”

I stop breathing.

“But the old-world ways came back to haunt me. Farron Banks spent his time stealing what was mine so it could be shared with the weak and lazy. Animals, food, tools, even my labor—nothing belonged to me. I couldn’t pick where I lived, and when I did anyway, I was punished. The rejection returned, especially when it came to any positions of leadership. Yet when my wife decided she wanted to become a soldier, theylether.” He gives a cruel laugh. “I could heal her with the connection, they reasoned. She would be safe. She disobeyed me, ignoring my decision to not allow it, and was slaughtered by a vagrant outside the fence.” He pauses to breathe heavily through his nose. “Everything went wrong because they refused to listen to me.”

The shock of his confession feels like an earthquake. The foundation of everything I thought I knew is crumbling. I’ve been lied to my whole life.

“So I lit their hospital on fire and walked out of there as the leader of the rebellion against the old world.”

Breathless, I remember Enola’s face when she told me the original hospital had burned down. She wouldn’t even look at me. This was why.

Did she think I wouldn’t believe her if she told me? That I was in too deep to hear the truth? Perhaps that’s why she only focused on what we could agree on—peace. Stopping a war.

“My people would be different,” he continues. “Better. A community where strength determined who was in charge and appropriate roles were given to the right people. My way allowed for fair trade and wealth and power to any man who wanted it—if he was willing to fight for it. The five strongest of those would each oversee a clan, with me not only the leader of the original clan, Hanook, but also the head over all of them, so no one could counter my plans and how I was going to make Farron pay.

“So all of this—all of it—was about revenge?” I whisper in disbelief.

“It was about saving a generation. And exacting punishment for what they allowed this corruption to do.” Then his tight posture cracks as he shrugs. “The best part has been using their own theology against them. Their policies make them feeble and powerless. For decades, we’ve been able to strike like hornets, causing pain while they refuse to lift a blade first or burn their traitors. They’ll only consider violence if we enter their land. It’s pathetic, and their own choices are what will destroy them. Slowly. Painfully. Just like the old world.” He exhales. “Fates, it feels good to finally speak the whole story out loud after all these years.”

I watch his satisfaction settle over his face with mounting horror. So nobody knows. Although, Tristan was right: Kingsland has shown unsustainable restraint in never attacking us on our land.

But then who is responsible?

The bone dangling around Gerald’s neck flashes in my mind. A finger bone. I gasp as my world tilts further.

Liam’s words about Gerald come back to me.He’s been your father’s henchman of sorts, doing all the dirty work.

All the killing. All the torture. My breaths speed up as I stare at my father—the only person whoneededthe clans to hate Kingsland. The only person who gained power and authority from his people living in fear. It wasn’t vagrants attacking us. “All this time it was you?”

I think of how terrified of Kingsland we were after finding our animals beheaded. But curiously, the bodies were left behind, allowing us to still use them for food. I recall the testimonies from soldiers who survived being attacked—they were always alone when they were ambushed and blinded. How difficult would it be for Gerald to convince them he was Kingsland if they couldn’t see him? I cover my mouth, aghast. Harper, one of the clan soldiers who was mutilated, was known for being outspoken.

So was Andrus. And Teag.

A new and horrifying thought sweeps over me. If Father’s willing to maim and kill to snuff out any opposition, what else has he done to maintain control? Is that the real reason we’ve been taught to fear the old world, their books, and any independent thinking? Religion? Skies, isthiswhy we hardly have any older people in the clans who remember the old-world ways?

I bet it doesn’t stop there. If he considered books a gateway into the old world, he probably felt the same about plumbing and electricity. Just another first step onto a slippery slope, right? My hand slides to my throat; I feel like I’m choking. All those supposedraids on our traders, the fear he instilled in us of booby-trapped supplies—he intentionally suppressed our advancements to keep us in the dark ages. It was necessary for him to maintain control.

A shake enters my body. “But you killed Farron. When will revenge be enough?”

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