Page 41 of Vilest Things
“Stay where you are,” Galipei says. “Let this run its course. Keeping the palace clear is most important.”
From above, the crowd looks like a dark sea of heads. The last time there was movement of equal scale, a false alarm was screeching across San-Er, warning of flash floods that never came. That had been easy to fix. Easy enough to wave people back into their homes. Galipei was at the forefront of controlling the riots before the king’s games too—the disgruntled residents asking for the cash prize to be equally distributed among those in need, asking for some solution to the hospital beds that were already full—and all the palace guard needed to do was herd them into a corner, then pluck them off the streets.
Galipei strains to hear the answer coming in on the receiver. Tonight, they can’t exactly put everyone in a jail cell as King Kasa would’ve dictated. They would run out of jail cells.
“—hear it? They’re—calling.”
Galipei lowers the antenna and pulls the crackling field radio away from his ear. The people may have formed this protest on their own, but there is only one group in the twin cities with the organizational capability to take charge and make use of the circumstances. The Crescent Societies have been spreading word of their next goals: flock to the palace, keep resisting until the throne falls. Their battle call echoes down the thoroughfare, one wave after the other.
“No throne without mandate. No throne without proof!”
It’s not that every resident in the twin cities has suddenly adopted Crescent Society anarchy. But give the masses a tangible reason to show their resentment,and they will take it. Give the Crescent Societies these numbers to use in chaos, and they will throw people at the palace like explosives to get in.
They have to disperse these protests before the Crescent Societies can take a firm hold.
“Crescent Society members are starting to jump. Suspected invasions on some guards. We need to get a handle on thisnow.”
Galipei brings the radio close to his mouth. “Execute any Crescent Society jumpers immediately. No argument. We don’t have cell space.”
There’s agreement and disagreement at instantaneous synchrony. Different units, different opinions. Times like these, he almost wishes Leida were still here. That they had one person making decisions.
“Some of them are still using what Leida taught—”
“We don’t know if they’ve jumped without light—”
“Don’t we need to clear executions with the council—”
Without a true crown, it is easy for unrest to reach a boiling point. The civilians whisper about their last cruel king and how he could have been allowed by their heavens to rule. If he wore the true crown, they say, Kasa would have lost the mandate while he governed so cruelly. August is the heir to a dynasty that should have been discarded. August should have been rejected at his coronation.
If there is one thing the Crescent Societies know how to do, it’s seizing an opportunity in a power vacuum.
“August has ordered it,” Galipei snaps, making the decision for him. He knows August, for better or for worse. “Get a move on and prepare palace proceedings to find the true crown. The last thing we need is some fucking farmer in Rincun putting it on and claiming the throne.”
The noise outside the palace is audible from the halls.
Calla slows by a window, peering through the night to catch a glimpse of thecrowds. There’s not much to be seen from this part of the south wing, though she can envision what the streets must look like. Impatience presses at her palms; she desires the grip of her sword. She nudges the glass, curious if the noise seems loud because it isn’t closed properly, but the window doesn’t budge.
“Highness.”
The voice echoes from the far stairwell, sounding surprised to find Calla standing here, prodding a random south-wing window.
“I’m convinced everyone keeps calling meHighnessto remind the council that they ought to get rid of me before I launch a coup for the throne.”
Calla pushes at the corner of the glass.Ah.It’s sealed down to the frame.
“Hmm. Well.” Venus Hailira strides over with a preciousness in her steps, like she can’t quite bear to set her feet all the way down. When she comes to a stop beside Calla, she’s slightly breathless. She was definitely rushing around before Calla’s presence caught her attention. “I would promise to not let that happen, but I think you and I both know I don’t hold much sway.”
“Not with that attitude.”
Venus grimaces. “Are you coming to the second meeting?”
Secondmeeting?
Calla quirks a brow, turning away from the window and facing the councilmember. “I didn’t know I was invited. What did I miss at the first meeting?”
“Otta Avia claims to know the location of the crown. First informal meeting was a vote on sending a delegation.” The council must have been doing that while Calla and Anton were off arguing. “Second in an hour is to confirm who is attending. Miss Avia has personally requested your presence in the delegation.”
Calla resists the urge to punch through the window and dive out. Maybe she’ll survive the splat in the alleyway below. Maybe she’ll fuse to the cement and won’t have to look at Otta and her stupid tiny face ever again.
