Page 112 of Vilest Things
“You’re excused from duty,” Calla decides.
Though Mugo must have been eyeing his escape route, his attention snaps back to her in an instant. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. You are excused. I don’t think you’re fit to continue working alongside me.”
The other councilmembers have turned to stare at their feet. They’re pretending that if they don’t move, maybe Calla won’t notice them and bring down judgment on them too.
“Enough.” Mugo, seeing that none of the Crescent Society members are holding weapons to him anymore, brushes by. He heads for the door. For August, the reign that he believes will keep him around.
“You should stop now,” Calla calls.
“You do not have claim to that crown.” Mugo turns over his shoulder. “Nor authority in this palace—”
Calla only blinks. She doesn’t use her hands for the gesture. She doesn’t need to. A red line appears from Mugo’s forehead down to his navel. A mere scratch, he must think. Mugo touches his neck with concern, feeling the sensation pierce him.
Then blood is pouring from the line at gushing speed. He topples over. When he falls, he splits where the wire thin cut is, his body collapsing onto the throne room floor like fruit half-peeled to access the innards.
The other councilmembers make an effort not to react. Someone stifles a sharp inhale. Their sounds blend, their faces blend. If no one stands out, Calla won’t deal with them all at once.
“Princess Calla, we’ve been waiting for you.”
The voice that booms through the room is familiar. Though it takes a beat, Calla searches fast through her memory and matches it to the woman who was speaking on the phone, the one who tagged along with Yilas’s message. Calla turns and finds the woman lingering by the throne, the only one still standing while the rest kneel. Calla didn’t notice her before in the shadows, where she wasalmost hiding from the light streaming through the balcony. She’s dressed in black and leathers, as a city dweller who frequents casinos and nightclubs might. Calla can’t get a good look at her eyes. The woman’s hand drops from the back of the throne.
“Have you?” Calla asks. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think the Crescent Societies had such goodwill toward me.”
“Of course we do. We’re logical people. We can help each other.”
Around the throne room, the damage isn’t deep. Charred walls and ruined floors, but nothing that can’t be scrubbed away with some heavy-duty soap and fixed with carpet replacements. The gouges are shallow, made to frighten rather than incinerate.
The woman walks down the few steps from the throne, emerging from the shadows. Her hair has been pulled slick against her head and tied in a long braid. Her eyes are entirely black, lined charcoal dark.
Where Calla has no familiarity with her face, it’s Anton who gasps. Anton who stares with such awe that one would think this was someone risen from the dead. He staggers forward a step.
“Bibi.”
Calla grabs his elbow at once, keeping him back instinctively.
“How do you know her name?” she demands.
Anton’s mouth opens. Nothing comes out. He appeared fine charging into San-Er on the back of intense bloodshed, but it is here that he enters shock.
Bibi reaches the end of the steps. She comes closer and closer, until she goes to her knees too, the thud of each leg landing heavily on the deep green carpet.
“Because a long time ago, only he called me that,” Bibi says, answering where Anton cannot. She inclines her head. “My full name is Buira Makusa. We have come to join your war, Your Majesty.”
CHAPTER 39
Night sweeps over Eigi’s security base.
Enough days have passed that Calla and her coup have settled in San-Er. With each new hour, August cools down. He could hardly think past his rage when she entered the city. Now, he finds any sort of indignant response to be a wasted effort. Calla can try, but she can’t take the kingdom. No matter how thoroughly Calla wins the capital, it is impossible to claim Talin without claiming the provinces that provide its resources, so it doesn’t matter, does it?
He hears the reports from those who leave San-Er. The wall has opened one section to allow people to freely exit. No one is getting forcibly expelled, but plenty of Weisannas and guards have left anyway, joining August’s cause. Plenty of aristocrats have voluntarily packed up their things, fearing their time remaining in San-Er. Calla did not issue a warning. The hostility in the Palace of Union was enough of an unspoken one.
Under Calla Tuoleimi, this is not the same San-Er they’ve known with each new coronation. Crescent moons start appearing in shop windows. Weapons are distributed on the open market. These groups have always wanted anarchy. What more perfect way to begin that than the criminal princess finally coming back to end what she started?
August is starting to understand. How the pieces fell where they did. Who was moving which thread, whose hands were nudging where without him knowing.
Despite the Crescent attacks, some members of the council remain in San-Er, resolved to rule their jurisdiction. Ximili Province. Cirea Province. Gaiyu Province. Most of the councilmembers are dead, though, which means most armies in the provinces are also waiting, necks craned to see which way the wind blows, whether they ought to be listening to the queen who wears the crown or the king they coronated. It’s hard to tell how any of it will play out. Never has Talin seen change like this. Not since the war.
