Page 50 of Vilest Things
Calla’s hand drifts down to her collar, her finger trailing the lining. In his bid to investigate—she must have been touching the sigil and drawn his attention, she realizes absently—Anton loosened the fabric. A clock ticks in the corner. The remains of heavy distress coat her tongue, but in the sharp taste there’s vindication too, and she wants to lean over, wants to ask Anton to give it a taste so he realizes what she’s achieved. He was close enough for it. He might have, if only she’d asked.
“Maybe.”
“Calla, this isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not joking.” She flexes her hand. She feels a new thrum skate down her arm, but it isn’t intractable. It feels as though she’s suddenly able to movea muscle she never knew she had. “Maybe I did do something. Maybe the gods willed it.”
A muscle twitches at the side of Anton’s face. “If you’re trying to feign religiosity now—”
“I’m not.” Calla pushes off the desk. “Go ask Otta if you want answers. It all started with her, anyway.” She brushes by him and hits a latch on the wall that opens the office door. Noise floats in from the hallway.
Anton scoffs. “Whatis your problem with Otta?”
There’s no need to reply. He should know. In fact, he should have questioned Otta the very moment she woke, because their current predicament begins with Otta Avia, and Calla is going to get to the bottom of it.
If not for the kingdom’s sake, then for his. So he can see what Calla sees.
“As I was saying outside…” She walks off, letting her voice float back. “Summon the councilmembers to a meeting. I have concerns about our journey.”
CHAPTER 17
Like other parts of the building, the makeshift meeting room is dark, the curtains drawn and the sloped ceiling crowded with shadows rather than light. Most factories in San-Er are built this way, especially the basement levels where produce is stored, and Calla wonders if they simply copied San-Er’s existing construction plans out of laziness, rather than design a base that didn’t need such a low roof.
She peers out the window. Night has fallen, slathering ink upon the wet ground. Eigi gives her the creeps, to be honest. It’s too empty. Too quiet. It’ll only get worse the farther they go into the provinces, because at least Eigi is close enough to San-Er that the terrain bears some resemblance to their streets. Central Talin will appear almost entirely unfamiliar.
Councilmember Mugo clears his throat at the table.
“Are we starting soon?” he asks.
Other than their esteemed king, Calla has allowed only councilmembers into the meeting room. No guards. No additions. No exceptions. That includes Otta Avia.
Slowly, Calla turns from the window and releases the curtain. The last councilmember they were waiting on—Councilmember Savin, who oversees landlocked Laho in the center of the kingdom—walks through the doors.
“Yes,” Calla says. The low rumble of conversation starts to die down, at least across most of the table. Before her, Councilmember Rehanou and Councilmember Diseau are still in debate about one of Janton Province’s sea exports.
Calla walks over to stand directly between them. The two men blink. Councilmember Diseau makes a noise, rears back in offense, but he can’t quite tell her off for getting in the way when the room is entirely silent now, waiting on Calla’s next words.
“Thank you very much,” she enthuses. “I hope my meeting isn’t interrupting your fun chat.”
At the head of the table, Anton props his hands together, his lips thinning. He doesn’t interject. If she were him, she would have long removed Rehanou as councilmember of Kelitu out of sheer pettiness. Then again, Calla can’t quite speak to what she would do in Anton’s position, because she also wouldn’t be quietly pretending to be August. Either get out or ruleproperly.
Calla shakes out of her thoughts. Councilmember Rehanou has said something dismissive, but she didn’t even register it. Her shoulder twitches. She tries to clamp it down, but then a muscle in her thigh tremors, and her leg jerks, hitting the edge of the table. It makes a small sound, and though no one else around the room seems to think much of it, Anton narrows his eyes.
“Let’s begin here,” Calla decides. She retrieves the photocopied papers she left on the windowsill and hands them to Rehanou to distribute. He takes one set of papers, lip curling, and passes the rest of the bundle down the line. “Leida Miliu claimed that her supernatural feats of qi stem from sigils. I need anyone in the room who was already aware of this to come clean now.”
Silence. Calla doesn’t know if she entirely buys that, but she figured it would take more for the councilmembers to admit to the knowledge. Members of the palace don’t even believe that jumping should be allowed.
“Very well. I had my attendant, Joselie, do some research with me. Wetook some books out of the vault before the delegation. Hope you don’t mind.”
“You brought royal books into the provinces?” Mugo asks in disbelief.
“Yes, I’m a fucking idiot.” Mugo doesn’t seem to catch her sarcasm. “No. I photocopied everything.”
Calla waits for the papers to make their way around the table. She took the time to staple them together and everything. Copies of ten pages. It wasn’t easy getting everything printed in the dark. When Anton plucks up a set, he holds it only by the stapled corner, as though he’s afraid that Calla has slathered poison over the text.
The last set of papers returns to Calla. She smooths it open down the middle. “We went through the few inventory books from before the war and scanned anything that could be described asunfamiliar markings. I want everyone to flip through the first five pages and tell me if there’s anything you recognize.”
The room fills with the sound of fluttering paper. A few seconds pass. Calla’s eyes are already drifting to Councilmember Savin when she says:
