Page 232 of Silver Elite

General Redden clears his throat. When he begins to speak, his voice rings with authority.

“Twenty-five years ago, I cut off the head of the snake.”

Lovely. He’s not speaking metaphorically, either. Everyone saw the beheading of President Tack Severn, broadcast directly into their homes.

“Violence is necessary in war. Necessary for freedom. And after twenty-five years, a quarter of a century, it’s only fitting that we reflect on the sacrifices and the triumphs that have brought us to this moment. Twenty-five years ago, the Primes of the Continent languished under the unjust grip of a corrupt and inept regime. Our society was fractured, and the will of the people was silenced by tyranny. The Aberrant wrestled society out of our ancestors’ hands and made us second-class citizens. President Severn tore the very fabric of morality by inciting the minds of both his Prime enemies and his Aberrant allies. But together, the Primes stood united in our resolve to forge a new path—a path of liberation and order. Under my guidance, we liberated ourselves from the aberrations that tried to destroy us. We cleansed the Continent, rooting out traitors and restoring honor to our institutions.”

He pauses for dramatic effect.

“But our journey is far from over. As we look to the future, let us remain vigilant in the face of adversity, steadfast in our commitment to preserving the peace and stability that we have fought so hard to achieve. I wasn’t asked to lead—I was called to it.”

I try not to roll my eyes. Isn’t that what all great tyrants say?Oh, I didn’t want this. Please take all my burdensome power away.

“I was a simple man. I led a unit of men. I served Severn dutifully, and my wife was in the garden, but—”

I blink. And his wife was in the garden? Okay. Strange digression.

From the corner of my eye, I notice Ivy creeping toward me. My shoulders tense, snapping back, but she’s only moving closer to the stage to listen.

“—and right before he died, Severn spoke the phrase with which he ended all his broadcasts.Audaces fortuna iuvat.Fortune favors the bold. Which is perhaps the only true thing he ever said.”

Redden is purposely omitting the rest of President Severn’s cry.

Et potentia fluit ad fortes.

Fortune favors the bold, and power flows to the strong.

In his dying moments, Severn was still trying to stick it to those inferior “piss-veins” he so despised.

“We were bold in the Coup, and fortune did indeed favor us. Butthe world he described is not possible, and we took the train there when my son was five and—”

He stops for a second. An uneasy feeling tickles at my gut.

“It was the kind of day that makes you want to stay at home with your family.”

What the hell is he talking about now?

“Severn wasn’t the sort of man who would, and before that, I knew. Before that, he knew.”

I notice several guests exchanging glances. Obviously, I’m not the only one baffled by this speech.

Redden clears his throat. Glances at his sons. “These three young men behind me will carry that mantle when I’m gone. Which I hope won’t be for at least another hundred years if the research grant I’ve approved for the regeneration ward at the hospital pans out.”

His attempt at humor falls flat. Mostly because everyone is still perplexed by everything that preceded it.

He chuckles awkwardly when the crowd doesn’t respond. “I’ve raised my sons to believe that we can be everything that’s ever tried to do was not good.”

Murmurs of confusion travel through the room.

His features grow strained, as if he’s starting to feel it, too. The same bewilderment we feel. He shakes his head. Clears this throat again.

“Twenty-five years and look at all we’ve accomplished. Our society is a well-oiled machine, and when she was in the garden, she told me—” He halts and blinks. Rubs his face.

I search the crowd for answers. And that’s when I see her again.

Adrienne.

Itisher.

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