Page 102 of Vilest Things
“Highly possible,” Calla says. Unwittingly, she and Anton have become some sort of tag team, taking turns to counter August. “All he needed to do was kill Galipei. You should be thankful he showed mercy and avoided that route.”
“I’m coming to regret being so merciful, actually.” Anton can’t help it. He lines up the shot and takes it: “Especially if you had anything to do with the death of my parents. Revenge was easily accessible. Take that into account for whatever trial you’re about to give us.”
He senses Calla grow still. This is the first she’s hearing about this.
August, however, doesn’t appear surprised to be confronted. He laces his hands in front of himself. His posture is overwhelmingly straight. Though hisclothes are slightly ragged from the road, he has changed into a new jacket, a solid white that the cities would quickly dirty.
“I didn’t,” August says shortly. “But I did hear about it shortly thereafter, once Kasa’s instruction went through. It was better you didn’t know.”
“Was it? Or were you afraid I’d revolt in the palace?”
To tell the truth, Anton has always been a little afraid of August, but he’s aware the feeling goes both ways. Anton has witnessed August having no limit when it comes to climbing ranks in the palace. August has witnessed Anton exhibit the same behavior when it comes to the depths of his loneliness—his frantic jumping, his frivolous discarding of bodies. He moves fast to escape the fear that he could encounter a similar fate, because nothing in this world will scar him the way his parents’ deaths scarred him, and he’ll suffer eternity remembering what that day felt like.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” August says, but his black eyes flit away.
If, in Anton’s youth, he had discovered that King Kasa ordered his parents to die, they wouldn’t have needed to wait until Calla snapped and planned to kill him. Anton would have done it first, committed regicide from within the Palace of Earth, and then where would August be? Another forgotten noble, shoved around meaninglessly while the council battled to put someone onto the throne.
“There was nothing you could have done about it,” August continues. He remains impassive, as he always is, as he always has been. “Your parents were working with the Crescent Societies to put themselves on the throne. It was high treason, and you should be thankful that they became victims of a rural attack rather than suffer your family name dragged through the mud if they were charged accurately.”
Anton lunges, but the rope holds him back from reaching August. Calla stomps hard on his foot to tell him to ease off. He barely feels it, barely feels anything past the cold rage that slides liquid down his throat.
If it’s the last thing he does, either Anton will kill August Avia, or he will accept death trying.
“Enough,” August declares. He shifts toward the carriage door, easing himself out of the way lest Anton try again. It doesn’t matter: the rope holds solid. “Out of respect for the both of you, I’ve come to share that we’re not bringing you into San-Er. The climate is too volatile. You may testify on a broadcast we’ll send into the capital, and you will stay at the security base to await trial.”
This must be a joke. Testify on abroadcast? August isn’t offering them a trial in the slightest. They are going to stay imprisoned at the security base until their bones turn to rot. They are going to give San-Er enough material to show that they have been defeated without being made into martyrs, and then Anton Makusa and Calla Tuoleimi are going to disappear.
“You need to be more specific,” Calla says. A note of alarm threads through her words.
“What is there to specify? I am giving you the opportunity to speak your part. You can tell the whole truth, Calla. Tell them that we worked together to depose King Kasa. It doesn’t matter to me.”
August doesn’t fear the council anymore. The council functions solely as a fail-safe to a king’s achievement of total power, and he must believe that it is one push away from falling entirely if he is granting Calla permission to drag him down.
August opens the carriage door.
“One request,” Calla says.
August stops. Turns back.
“If you want a broadcast, we need our bodies back.” She leans into her seat. When she speaks, she’s not looking directly at August, but she’s not looking anywhere else in particular either. Her teal eyes are unfocused. Thinking. “Mine especially. San-Er will think you hired some actor otherwise. They will ask whether you take them for a fool, wanting them to believe that the first person who jumps without their qi changing the eyes is the princess in confession.”
August is quiet for a moment. He considers her carefully.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, if that’s what you’re evaluating,” Calla adds, matter-of-fact. “What is there left, August?” Her foot taps the side of Anton’s ankle. “We can’t fight you. We have no forces but ourselves. Who remains standing except you?” Another tap. This can’t be an accident, but there is nothing that Calla would be prompting him to observe. It seems to be nothing except assurance. A reminder that she is here. A reminder that she knows he is there.
August rolls his eyes. “There is no need to flatter me, Calla.”
“It is not flattery. I am stating the facts. You have plotted this long and this thoroughly to take Talin, and there is no remaining loophole. You will return to San-Er and tamp down the chaos with force. You will order your soldiers to take action in the provinces and wipe out any revolutionary groups that bear ill will to the throne. Nothing we do or say here changes a thing.”
It’s hard to tell whether August agrees with her. He makes a noise, then walks away, signaling for his guards to watch the carriage.
Anton fidgets, leaning forward to get a better look through the open door. The moment the thought of escaping crosses his mind, Calla shakes her head at him, a silent warning to stay put.
Five minutes later, Galipei appears with their birth bodies. They’ve so kindly made sure the bodies are already blindfolded and bound.
“All right,” Galipei snaps. “Get back in.”
CHAPTER 36
