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Kallista’s words still echoed through her mind and kept her up at night.You have a power vacuum in this city, and I’ve lived through enough of those to know that they breed monsters…
They needed an army. They needed to be ready when the monsters came.
Shehad to be ready.
“I have talked to her,” Leandra insisted. She reached out, taking Alice by the arm and stopping her, turning the Witch to face her. “Alice, listen to me. That child is alone. Truly alone. I think she needs a friend. She needs to spend time with children her own age. To connect with someone.”
Alice’s teeth clenched tight. “She has been encouraged to join Fey’s training classes, where there are children her own age. We have encouraged her to come out of her room and make new friends. You know as well as I do that she hasn’t taken anyone up on that offer.”
Leandra’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Alice… Fey killed her parents. I don’t think she wants to be around her. I’m starting to wonder if it might have been cruel of us to suggest it in the first place. Would you want to spend time with the Witch who killed your family?”
Had they been cruel to suggest it? The thought gave Alice pause. She had forgotten that particular lie, forgotten that the realm believedthe old queen had died at Fey’s hands rather than Joy’s. That Leandra—that Amalia—believed it. Exhaling loudly, Alice let her head drop back.
“And what do you want me to do about it, Leandra?” she asked. “What do you expect the council to do about one sad little girl?”
Leandra shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted in a whisper.
Alice snorted and started walking again, forcing Leandra to keep up.
“I’m just worried,” Leandra continued, hurrying after Alice as they reached the throne room. The rest of the council was already assembled there, waiting for her.Great. She was late.
Leandra was still talking, though Alice had stopped listening. “We agreed to keep her in the palace, keep her taken care of, but I can’t help but think we’re just caging her in here. And since no one seems to know what to do with her?—”
She stopped mid-sentence. Alice stopped as well.
Kallista stood at the council table, angry shadows swirling around her. The very air around her was dark. Cold.
“We need to discuss this,” the Demon snapped, pointing at a stack of papers strewn across the table.
Alice clenched her teeth together tightly, temporarily forgetting all about Leandra as she approached the council table to see what had Kallista in such a temper.
When she saw what was there, she snorted, not bothering to give the posters more than a passing glance.
“We’re aware of the posters,” Alice stated, moving around the table to get to her seat. “Feyis aware of the posters, and we’ve discussed what they mean for both her and the city. I think the best thing we can all do is ignore them—this is nothing more than a fringe movement to elevate Fey into a position she is, in no way, shape, or form, considering. It’s a non-issue.”
Goddess, she couldn’t believe Kallista was still pushing this nonsense, still insisting that Fey wanted to be anything more than?—
“These are different, Alice,” Kallista snapped, interrupting her thoughts. “Look at them. Damn you, Witch, open your eyes and actually read them.”
Startled, Alice glanced from Kallista back to the posters on the table. Grabbing one at random, she lifted it to read.
They were different. Sure, they used the same image of Fey, but…
“Goddess help us,” Leandra whispered, picking up a poster and visibly paling. Alice had forgotten the High Priestess was even there.
Death to the council, read the handwritten message scrawled over the page in angry black ink. Frowning, Alice picked up another. And another.
Traitors.
Council = Witch’s Pets.
“This is… much more concerning,” Alice agreed. With difficulty, she pulled her eyes away from the image of her sister and looked at Kallista. “Where did you find these?”
“Everywhere,” the Demon said. “They’re in every district, on every damned street. Someone has put them up all over the city.”
“No,” Alice said, flipping through the pages. They were all variations of the same thing. Image after image of Fey’s face from the day the Crown had outed her, all marred with handwritten messages. “No, not someone. One person didn’t do this. This was a group. This was an organized attack.”
The deSanguine gave the stack a dismissive glance. “So?” he asked. “I fail to see the immediate concern here. How is this any different from the ones demanding she be queen?”
