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His police force has always been faster to act the richer the victims are. His laws have always favored the elites of the inner wards above even Florian’s middle class.
Why should any of the people he placed lower on his priorities jump at the chance to reestablish the Melchiorek reign?
Why should I?
The question niggles at me as I shimmy down the tree and slink along the back alley through the chilly dusk.
I don’t know Petra all that well. I don’t know what kind of a ruler she’d be.
I’m sure she’s a better option than handing the country over to scourge sorcery, but is that enough to throw my support so whole-heartedly behind her? Could there be other options I haven’t considered in my panic to push back Lothar and his cronies?
I’ve been thrown from place to place so often since Julita landed in my head, had so many voices in my ear, that I’m not sure of what I think just for myself.
A couple of lanes farther along, I pass by Zuzanna’s house. The guttering candle beyond her grubby window makes the shadows waver in the sigils of Elox carved into the building’s outer walls.
The guttural coughing that reverberates from within tells me that her son is sick yet again, her appeals to the godlen of healing gone unheard. Or perhaps he simply can’t intervene, as Kosmel hesitated to insert himself more than a little into my life.
Someday, I’d like to get the chance to ask the gods a thing or three about exactly how they’re meant to fit into our existence.
I veer closer to the window, and Zuzanna’s ragged voice carries to my ears. “I’m going to keep trying, sweetie. Maybe if the All-Giver returns, I can ask for the Great God’s blessing to shine on you.”
An ache closes around my heart. I pull myself away.
I hadn’t really thought about it before, but in some ways Lothar and his ilk are just a more ambitious version of the con artists I used to steal from on these streets. Conjuring hope for incredible things in people who are so hungry for every scrap they can get.
Who from the poorest soul to the richest nobleman couldn’t imagine how their lives might be better if our highest creator returned? Who has never found any fault in our current rulers, to think we couldn’t have an even better one?
King Konram himself set the precedent that we deal with threats by slaughtering them. How many riven sorcerers did he parade in front of the city on their way to the gallows?
A gloom hangs over me as I weave my way back to the tenement building. Going up the stairs, I slip off my concealment charm and tuck it in my pocket so I’ll be visible to the people I want to see me.
No one’s in the hall that divides the two apartments on the highest floor. I head into the one where my men and I have been staying.
Alek is sitting in one of the plain armchairs in the front sitting room. I recognize the book propped open between his hands as the aged volume I retrieved from King Konram’s secret hiding spot.
He’s smiling before he glances up and takes in my expression. A shadow crosses his face. “Is everything all right?”
“Is it any worse than it was before, you mean?” I say with forced wryness. “No, not particularly.”
I amble over to claim a quick kiss and rest my hand on his shoulder. “Have you figured out what was so special about that book?”
It’s easier to talk about Alek’s discoveries than my own, especially with the way his face lights up in scholarly enthusiasm at the topic.
He pages back through the book. “I think the rumors going around the city that the gods were dissatisfied with his family must have bothered King Konram. Princess Klaudia said she remembers hearing him ask the main palace archivist for any books in the royal collection that dated back to before the Great Retribution. This is one of them.”
I peer at the book alongside him. “And it says something about what the gods expect from our kings and queens?”
“Not exactly. But there are several details I’ve never seen before about those kingship trials we’ve discussed before. I wonder if he was only preparing for what the scourge sorcerers might try to enact or thinking of finding a way to hold his own version, to prove his legitimacy.”
I swallow thickly. King Konram won’t get the chance for that now. “Why would he have kept it hidden?”
Alek gives a slight shrug. “Hard to say without being able to ask him. It is a very rare and valuable book—I’ve never seen anything like it. And he might have been worried about sparking ideas he didn’t want in other people’s heads.”
Stavros appears in the doorway that leads to the inner rooms. He strides over and wraps his arm around me in an embrace that settles just a little of the turmoil churning inside me.
“Petra wanted to speak with you as soon as you returned from your scouting,” he says. “I’d like to hear what you observed as well. We clearly need to adjust our strategy.”
I’m not sure I’m ready for this conversation—but it has to happen, and soon. Squaring my shoulders, I nod. “All right. Where is she?”
