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The crowd doesn’t give her a chance to finish her statement of devotion. More voices interrupt, hollering up at us.
“You care now because you lost your fancy palace!”
“I got to eat more today than I have in years. It’s the Order of the Wild who gave us that, not you.”
“They’re making things better, not just talking at us.”
“The royal family never bothered with what anyone except the nobles needed.”
“They did one good thing and figured they should get to keep lording it over us forever. We all have to work for anything we want.”
The devout spreads his arms pleadingly. “My fellow citizens, if you’d just listen. We can show you?—”
“We’ve seen enough,” someone snaps back. “We know who’ll look out for us.”
“The Order of the Wild set us free!”
Both Petra and the devout glance back at me, with a flick of their gazes toward Poltus, who’s sitting awkwardly on the roof’s tiles with Casimir. That’s my cue to help the courtesan bring the sacrificial accomplice forward.
They must be hoping the sight of him will shock the protests out of the crowd.
I mean to move, but all at once my feet feel heavy as lead. My attention leaps back toward the crowd—the fists waved, the voices raised in frustration. All the shouted words jostle in my brain.
We’ve been wrong. Both those of us supporting the queen and the Order of the Wild.
The common people of Silana don’t give a shit about how people lived hundreds of years ago. They aren’t trying to get back to their roots or any of the other metaphors the Order members toss around.
They just want to survive now. To have their needs met, to know they have someone to turn to for help.
To be heard.
But Lothar’s approach has catered to them so much better than our own, whether by design or inadvertently.
How could it not? He has the manpower to give away a banquet and heaps of fine clothes, to throw a country-wide festival where everything is provided. He has followers in every city and town assuring the locals that they’ll set everything right in the most fundamental possible ways.
At this point, is there anything we can show them that will sway their opinion? So many people were fed up under the Melchioreks, tired of seeing those titled or rich favored.
Are they really willing to wait and see if Petra will be better, no matter what we tell them about the Order? Will they believe us even with the proof in front of their eyes?
Poltus sways where he’s sitting with a ragged mumbling under his breath. A shudder runs through his body.
He can hear everything the crowd is saying, singing the praises of the people who mutilated him. And now we’re going to put him to their judgment when they might hurl the same harsh words at him—when it might not make any difference?
Hasn’t he been traumatized enough? How are we better than the scourge sorcerers if we use their victims for our own cause without caring how it harms them?
In that moment, there’s nothing I’d rather do than gather my companions and run away from here. Far, far away to some other country where we can escape the Order of the Wild and at least live in some kind of peace.
Maybe that’s actually the best thing I can do for Petra and her siblings, before her quest for the throne ends in more tragedy.
Maybe all those people down there deserve to find out exactly who they’re supporting when the scourge sorcerers finally stop giving and start taking. What have the people of Silana ever done for me except talk about how my kind should be sent to the gallows?
I take a step toward Poltus, on the verge of suggesting we flee, when one more shout reverberates from below.
“The Order is looking out for all of us. They want us all to have good lives!”
Poltus flinches and then goes rigid, his jaw clenching. I can see the rejection of those words etched all through his mottled face.
He knows they’re a lie just as much as I do. It’s like that strange kid said to me—Lothar has created a mirage.
