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I can’t help noticing that as soon as each is holding a blade or a bow, their stances draw up a little straighter with a newfound sense of purpose.
Well, the courtesan does understand human emotions in a way I’m not sure I ever will.
As more onlookers arrive, Casimir and Petra repeat their message—and I catch voices from amid the crowd enthusing about the special duty the princess has given them. A hint of a smile touches my lips despite my continued apprehension.
A lot of things might have been ruined during the scourge sorcerers’ brief reign, but they haven’t stopped Silana’s people from recognizing a truly righteous cause.
Most of the spectators, realizing the trials aren’t anywhere near ready to begin, turn to face the city with weapons at the ready. They greet their fellow citizens as they arrive.
But one voice hollers over the heads of the daimon toward the platform. “When are we going to see the proof?”
Tinom appears next to Petra, lending the answer an air of divine authority in his cleric-like robe. “All the tools for our tests are being assembled before your eyes. And of course we will wait for any competitors who wish to stake their own claim to arrive. We believe in a fair opportunity for all. We expect to be able to commence shortly after sunrise.”
A gruff sound of warning reverberates from the far side of the platform, where I realize Stavros has been standing in the darkness. At his signal, a significant portion of our combat-trained allies hurry forward to join the gathered gang members.
Ivy tugs me farther behind our defensive line and glances over to where Sulla is standing on the other side of the platform. The older woman shakes her head as if to say she hasn’t sensed any trouble.
Soon enough, the thunder of racing hoofbeats and the glimpses of red tunics beneath the moonlight reveal the reason for Stavros’s concern. Our first Order representatives are charging over to confront us.
The Black Talons’ bosses, thank the gods, have enough sense not to leave the regular civilians as our first line of defense. With a few brisk gestures, they send half of their force ahead of the growing crowd of spectators. The others and the daimon remain between the onlookers and the rest of us.
Petra holds her position in the middle of the platform, but her stance has gone slightly rigid. Stavros shifts position to stand closer to her, and Rheave moves so he’s directly in front of her on the ground, ready to intercept a magical attack as best he can.
Ivy’s hands have balled at her sides. She’s prepared to use her own magic if there’s no other choice.
The image of her fiercely determined expression yesterday in the cart lingers in my memory, along with the firmness of her voice.
There’s a good chance I’ll have to use a lot of magic making sure we see these trials through. I don’t know how it’ll affect me... If I start to lose control, you need to act immediately—whoever’s closest, whoever can do what needs to be done.
My stomach starts to churn. It’s not likely the final act would come down to me. And even if it did… letting her become the monster she’s feared so much would be a worse betrayal than killing her.
But, Great God help me, let us avoid that fate.
“I’d better vanish,” she murmurs to me now, and pulls out the charm that’s the one kindness Tinom left her with.
“Stay safe,” I tell her, my voice gone hoarse, and then she blinks out of sight before my eyes.
The several riders in red rein in their steeds a few paces shy of the first line of armed men. One scowls before bellowing at all of us. “Do you really think you’ll get away with this treachery?”
Tinom replies in a tone thick with derision. “Treachery? The rightful queen is simply commencing the kingship trials your leader demanded. She wasn’t willing to wait for his perverted version of them. Who could be more qualified to run the trials than those of us who’ve faithfully served the only royal family Silana has known since the Darium empire was overthrown?”
“The false royals who lead us all astray. Look at you, deluding these people over again.” He aims his glower at the crowd. “Are you really going to fight those of us who’ve given so much to win our freedom? They’re trying to chain you up again.”
“What are you calling freedom?” Stavros retorts, stepping into the light. “The freedom to be murdered for daring to criticize you? I don’t recall King Konram treating his people so brutally.”
The riders ignore him, the one who appears to be their leader focusing all his attention on our audience. “They’re hypnotizing you with riven magic. Turning you into criminals. This is your chance to stop them and carry out the justice they deserve!”
The crowd stirs uneasily. Is one of the Order members using a gift to rattle their conviction? Or sway it in Lothar’s favor?
Petra lifts her voice, clear and steady. “These trials will provide justice and show who is worthy of the people’s faith.”
An anxious voice rises from the midst of the onlookers. “Where is the riven sorcerer you’ve let help you? Are you going to arrest her?”
Another civilian echoes the first’s nervous tone. “How can we trust anything when you let one of those monsters walk free and work her magic on us?”
I wince inwardly, knowing Ivy is hearing these questions. She shouldn’t have to.
She’s fought so hard for these people, and still they want to heap so much blame on her.
