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There it is. The appeal to everyone’s ego. But who would be the lucky one chosen to make it to the top?
Mr. Patrick Connelly, of course.
He spreads his hands, keeping his posture humble but authoritative. His eyes flick to Zaiya, and I want to puncture them with my thumbs.
“As for plotting to have Miss Zapera kidnapped, I ask, where is your proof?” He turns, speaking to everyone circling us. “What I do know is that Edwin and Zaiya paid a visit to Michael Shaw during an intimate moment and physically threatened him for information.”
Michael nods from the side.
A loyal flea.
Patrick slips into his best political voice. “They were not going to leave him alone, so he told them what they wanted to hear. A story that would get them riled up enough to make fools of themselves here tonight.”
He lifts his chin, fighting off a grin. “If anything, this proves Edwin Crotavere can’t lead with a level head. He gets heated over things that don’t matter and aren’t real. And that is no Sovereign of our precious Serpentium Order.”
He returns to his place between Bridget and Michael as if he just made the game-winning shot. Bridget’s hand slides over his arm, so proud of the scum she married.
Liam closes his eyes with a deep inhale. When he opens them, I can see the fatigue through his mask.
“With no concrete evidence that Mr. Connelly tried to have Miss Zapera kidnapped or killed, the vote will continue as planned.” His eyes meet mine, apologetic. “Everyone will take this information into consideration when casting their votes.”
He’s practically lowering the lid of our coffin. But I can’t say I’m surprised. Men who commit worse sins don’t condemn one of their own.
The vote begins nonetheless. Council members enter the alcove one by one. Each drops a stone into one side of the box, and the chamber listens for the soft clink.
After the Council, members begin filing in. This is the largest gathering of the Order I’ve seen in years. They came out for the drama. To make themselves feel important with their votes.
The process is slow and obnoxiously ritualistic. That’s what the Order likes.
We stand here for over an hour as everyone takes their fucking time. Get this dragged-out pageant over with. Crown me Sovereign and give me Patrick so I can christen my reign in blood.
Zaiya keeps hold of my hand. She’s ready to move on from this, too. Patrick and Bridget look smug as ever. If I were him, I’d be worried. There’s no chance he has enough support. And if we’re going by the Trials alone, it’s clear that Zaiya and I make for a better fuck.
The chamber stays dead silent as every stone hits the scale. The constant plink of them becomes torture in miniature. Waterboarding for the ears.
I catch myself staring at Zaiya’s throat. The ribbon tied there. Her pulse pounding against it.
The last few men step up to the box and drop their stones in to decide the fate of this Order. Then they return to their places.
Liam stands at the entrance of the alcove.
“The votes have been cast,” he announces. “Council, please reveal the result.”
Two members of the Council enter the alcove. My heartbeat picks up. This is it. Continuing the legacy and all that shit. But most importantly, ensuring that Zaiya is safe.
The Council members emerge. One nods to the other, who speaks for the both of them.
“The new Sovereign and Seraph of the Serpentium Order are… Patrick and Bridget Connelly.”
I don’t understand those words.
Then it hits, and my stomach drops.
No. There’s no fucking way. I know who pledged themselves to me. Patrick doesn’t have the numbers. Even if half those bastards lied, he still doesn’t have the fucking numbers.
Polite applause ripples through the chamber. Applauding themselves for choosing poison.
Bridget squeals and throws her arms around Patrick. He catches her like a hero in a staged photograph. Then he raises his hands to the room, bestowing a blessing no one with sense should accept.
