Page 39 of Vilest Things
“Don’t forget,” Calla says icily. “You’re not guaranteed to survive this. August might be too powerful. The longer you stay, the more likely it is that you could start to merge.”
“Or maybe he’ll disappear. Doesn’t that sound terrific?”
“He was once your closest friend. Does that meannothing—”
The door shudders. Calla’s gaze whips over to it, but she must have locked it from the inside when she closed it. After another failed push on the other side, someone clears their throat in the hallway and calls:
“Your Majesty? Are you in here?”
Anton sighs. “And what about it?”
“We need a statement,” the muffled voice continues.
“Seiqi, I am consulting with my advisor,” Anton says. He pulls at his hair again, though it’s more subdued this time.
“With all due respect, there are other royal advisors waiting for you in the war room, as well as the entire council. Could you perhaps continue the conversation there?”
Calla remains silent, watching Anton for his response.
“I’ll have Seiqi escort me to surveillance to get a handle on the situation,” he decides, heading toward the door. He’s not waiting for Calla’s per-mission.
“You don’t have to do this.”
She’s dropped to a whisper. Seiqi Weisanna won’t be able to hear her outside, but with the way Anton stops, he certainly does.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You could jump out. This is August’s problem. The throne’s problem. So why are you tending to it?”
Calla has always wondered why the crown would claim someone like Kasa, someone like her father. She suspected it called to a specific familial qi instead, that the palace had lied about what the object was supposed to do and drawn up its own mythos to support their royal family.
If the real crown is still out there, then it could truly function as it is said to. A Shenzhi or a Tuoleimi could be struck down. A peasant could become the next king. This goes beyond the scope of what game Anton is playing on the throne.
Seiqi is knocking on the door again. “Your Majesty? The news is going to spread through the cities very soon. We need to act before—”
“Are you afraid that I’ll expose you, Highness?”
“I don’tcare,” Calla hisses. “Expose me! Go on.”
“—there are going to be riots, we will need to disperse guard units—”
Anton spins around. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I mean it.” There’s no doubt that Seiqi can hear some argument going on inside now, but they’re keeping their volume so low that their words slur even to Calla’s ears. “What do I care? The council is waiting for a chance to get rid of me anyway. Tell them—they may decide to investigateyouwhile they’re at it.”
From the very beginning, their alliance was built on a terrible foundation: the outlaw and the exile. Two people on the precipice of falling off the very world, holding on to each other for balance. Now they are both planted too firmly, leagues of land and sea under their feet. She can’t give Anton Makusa a simple shove anymore to get him out of sight; they can only continue this bizarre dance to see who can send the other teetering closer to the edge.
“I loved you,” he spits, “and you chose to kill me.”
“You wouldn’t run with me,” Calla returns in kind. “We could have left. You chose not to. What alternative would you have preferred? To killmeinstead so you could live happily ever after with Otta Avia? I’m sure you wish I wasn’t the one here right now.”
“—open gaps at the wall,” Seiqi continues, “and there are plenty of rural dwellers camped—”
Anton strides back. In two steps, he’s before her, his jaw tight. A flush of red has started along his neck.
“How dare you.”
“You are soselfish,” Calla goes on, though she knows she’s crossed the line. These are her darkest thoughts, the accusations that stem from their worst clashes. “All you wanted was your own little haven with Otta, and you couldn’t give that up for me. I had the kingdom at stake. Soyes, Anton, I chose to win.”
