Page 161 of The Infernal Battalion

“I’ll bet you do,” Raesinia growled. “Get your men out of the way before they get hurt.”

“Are you willing to order Armsmen to attack Vordanai soldiers? Will they obey, do you think?”

“The Armsmen haven’t got anything to do with it. What do you think will happen if I start shouting that the queen is here and the chief minister won’t let her speak?”

D’Andorre’s face paled. “You wouldn’t.”

“I was here during the revolution, Chief Minister. On the ground. I’ve seen the power of the mob. Have you?”

“I...” He shook his head. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“Do what? Give the people what they want?”

“They don’t know what’s good for them!” d’Andorre said. Despair was written all over his face. “Your Highness, I beg you. At least wait until we’ve received Janus’ terms. They may be more lenient than we expect. Afterward—”

“Get out of my way.”

Pushing past Marcus, Raesinia shoved between two Armsmen and pressed past the soldiers. One of them reached out to grab her, and she gave him her best glare. He faltered, looking back at d’Andorre, who only stared at her blankly. Raesinia shook the soldier off and went to d’Andorre’s side.

“I’m only going to offer them a choice,” she said. “If they choose you, I’ll go quietly. You have my word.”

“Your Highness...” D’Andorre shook his head. “If they choose you, then God help us all.”

Raesinia turned away from him and climbed the rostrum. The steps seemed endless, winding around the pillar twice before they came to the speaker’s platform. As she ascended, the noise of the crowd rose, shouts and exclamations merging into an enormous roar like that of a stormy sea crashing against the rocks. Raesinia reached the top step and walked out onto the small circle of stone. It felt a thousand miles high, high enough that the faces in the crowd were only dots in a pattern, a vast fabric of humanity that went on forever. Small flashes of blue and silver were everywhere, Vordanai flags in all sizes, waving wildly like a school of strange fish.

Her heart slammed in her chest, as though it were about to burst, and the air felt too thin. She’d spoken to her people like this once before, and it hadn’t gone well. Only the arrival of the Colonials, the sudden restoration of hope, had turned the tide of opinion in her direction.

Last time she’d spent hours on her speech, reading classic texts, consulting books of rhetoric. This time she had a few lines she’d scrawled in haste the night before. There would be no last-​minute arrival. She didn’t have Danton’s magic voice. Just me. She breathed in until her lungs creaked, let the air out in a rush, and held up her arms. Gradually, the crowd’s shouts subsided, the noise level falling until it reached, not silence, but the closest equivalent a mob of ten thousand people could manage.

Raesinia stepped forward. She could feel the eyes on her, so many eyes, as though the concentration of attention was a physical force.

“People of Vordan,” she said. In her own ears, her voice sounded wrong, thready and weak. Do I always sound like that? “I am Queen Raesinia Orboan, daughter of Farus VIII. This morning I returned to our city from Viadre, aboard the fleet that now waits outside the harbor.

“I went to Borel to look for help.” A scattering of boos, quickly shushed. “I have as much reason for anger at the Borelgai as anyone. My beloved brother, Prince Dominic, was killed in the War of the Princes, and their pawn Duke Orlanko tried to remove me from the throne. But a queen must, above all, be practical, and trust others to do the same. I trusted that the Borelgai did not want to see Vhalnich on the throne, and my trust was rewarded.” After a fashion.

A few cheers of “Vhalnich! Vhalnich!” broke out, mixed with “The queen! Long live the queen!” For the most part, the crowd was quiet. Raesinia felt sweat beading on her brow.

“The Borelgai have sent this fleet to return General d’Ivoire to Vordan City, and an army will soon follow. With their aid, I believe we can defeat the traitor who calls himself Emperor of Murnsk and Vordan. But on my arrival, I was informed by the chief minister that the war was over. The Deputies-​General have asked Vhalnich for terms.”

She paused to let that sink in. A wave of murmurs swept the crowd, punctuated by cheers for Vhalnich.

“What we’ve done here, since the revolution, isn’t perfect,” Raesinia said. “It’s only just beginning. But I, for one, am interested to see where it goes. If we give in, it will all be swept away. The power of the people will be replaced by the power of the sword.

“The Deputies-​General have offered to surrender their power. They say they are acting in the best interests of Vordan, and I believe them. Chief Minister d’Andorre is not an evil man.” Raesinia took a deep breath and raised her voice. “But that power is not theirs to surrender. Nor is it mine. It’s yours. It belongs to the people.

“If you are willing to give that up, to become part of Vhalnich’s empire, then I will not stand in your way. I told Chief Minister d’Andorre as much. I do not want to ask anyone to fight, to die, for me.” She stopped for a moment, turning in a slow circle. “But if you want to fight for Vordan, then I will fight beside you, to the bitter end. Believe me, it would be an honor.”

She let her arms fall to her sides and then tipped her head in a bow. The quiet of the crowd took on a startled quality, as though they couldn’t believe she was finished. People coughed. Clothes rustled.

“Vhalnich!” someone shouted. “Emperor Vhalnich!”

Raesinia swallowed.

“Fight!” A woman’s voice. “Fight! Fight!”

“No surrender!” a man roared. When he said it again, there were a dozen voices alongside his. “No surrender!”

“Fight!” The shouting spread, deepened into a chant. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”