The idea of settling down in Ash Valley didn’t seem right either. Too many bad memories lurked there, starting with Dalena’s murder and ending with his own mother’s death. In between, he’d fucked things up with Pru and fought his best friend like a pissy little loser. When he thought about it, apart from Mags, maybe nobody else was even looking for him.
I should call Mags. Let her know I’m okay.
As he reached the piazza, he saw city sanitation workers busy scrubbing up all signs of violent insurrection. That had be Prince Alastor, already taking the helm from his royal pain in the ass brother. In addition to hauling bodies, janitorial personnel were also cleaning up all signs of last night’s wild party. There was no trash in the plaza, no food waste or vomit. Eerie how quickly such momentous events could be erased.
With a tinge of trepidation, he jogged up the steps toward Vega Rising. Ro hadn’t exaggerated when she said it was glorious, but the bloody history ingrained in the polished stones made it impossible for him to admire the architecture. If he had his way, he’d pull the whole place to pieces or turn it over to those who had worked beside him down below.
Anger fueled his steps, carrying him deeper into the palace. He stood inside a massive space framed with columns. A stunning fresco adorned the ceiling overhead, scenes out of gruesome Gol history judging by the number of people being beheaded or impaled. Yet the artistry was exquisite, as if the painter took a certain pride in denoting such calamity and pain.
Slay recognized a few faces from the undercity, but they seemed as lost as he felt, sort of wide-eyed and unsure what to expect, no notion of what came next. Revolution was one thing, but most had probably been afraid to imagine what came after, how they’d live after succeeding.
That’s the part they don’t write about.
In stories, the heroes went off on a mighty quest, had a bunch of adventures, and in the end, slew the beast. Usually, the tale ended at the celebration. The narrative didn’t follow the farm boy home to see how he fared or detail how things went sour because he couldn’t adjust to plowing his fields again and instead the hero turned into a bitter has-been, repeating his tired story in the tavern to anyone who’d buy him a mug of lager.
“There you are,” a familiar voice called.
When he turned, Hettie waved to him with a smile. “They’ve been bickering for hours. I know Ro will want you to join the meeting.”
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
She let out an aggravated sigh, running a hand through already disheveled hair. “How to proceed from here.”
Slay could predict the conflict. “Let me guess, they can’t decide who’ll govern?”
“Precisely. Can you hold this?” Deftly, Hettie deposited a tray in his arms and Slay realized he’d been conscripted as a coffee boy, bringing beverages to brighter minds in the movement. He laughed as Hettie led the way, following her with an amused shake of his head.
“Something funny?” she asked.
He waved away Hettie’s curiosity. “Never mind that. I thought Prince Alastor had the right to rule because of that challenge. Ro fought on his behalf, so doesn’t that mean he’s the new boss man?”
“That’s the precedent.” Hettie paused to open the great double doors, some distance down an impressive hallway. Here, the terrible frescoes were replaced by mosaic file floors in black and gold, along with ostentatious stained glass adorned in abstract patterns that caught the light and washed the pale walls with color.
“But…?” he prompted.
Without responding, she pushed the door open briskly, beckoning Slay inside. This was a massive chamber, and whatever it had been used for before, it now had a gigantic, oblong table in the center of the room, ringed by padded chairs. Currently, Prince Alastor was pacing, seeming as agitated as many of his listeners. Slay recognized Chantisse and Maksim, Ro gave him a little wave from the other side. Many of the rest, he’d seen going about their business in the undercity, but he hadn’t learned their names.
Slay didn’t see Sheyla. I need to find her. Her comm should connect to Mags without any problems. She searched for me all over Eldritch lands.
At least somebody did.
As he served the drinks alongside Hettie, he whispered, “Okay, so what’s the issue?”
“The prince wants to abdicate.” Hettie tried to keep her voice low, but her answer came at exactly the wrong time, during a lull in the heated discussion.
All heads swiveled in their direction. Slay raised a defensive shoulder, not wanting to cause problems in a meeting he’d joined at the midway mark.
“That right?” Slay finally asked, because nobody else was saying a damn word, and he loathed awkward silences.
“It’s true,” Prince Alastor admitted. “We’re trying to work out what to do next, but it’s not easy, as my family always ruled with an iron fist and I don’t wish to govern at all.” He turned a wistful gaze toward the ceiling. “None of us know how long we have, and I want to spend my time adoring my beautiful wife, not bickering about the price of office supplies.”
“That’s understandable. While you’ve done more than Golgerra might have reasonably expected, you cannot dump the problems your family created on someone else,” Chantisse said sharply. “Reparations must be made!”
23.
At that, Prince Alastor bowed his head for a moment.
Rowena ached over the guilt and despair in his expression. For his entire life, people would associate him with his brother’s sins, because of Alastor’s bloodline. And it wouldn’t matter that he had been too ill to stop most of the tyrant’s crimes, or that he did his best as soon as he could, risking his own life in the process. After the battle, Prince Alastor had taken command and banished all the soldiers who had remained loyal to the tyrant. Now he faced censure over wrongs perpetrated by his family.
She considered defending him, but Chantisse must know these things already. Hard truths didn’t cease being accurate, even under extenuating circumstances.
Eventually the prince said, “That is indisputably correct. I’ve thought long and hard about this decision and I plan to donate all Vega family assets to Golgerra. Those resources can be used for social welfare programs and education. If you like, you can divide the wealth among those who were imprisoned in the undercity, exploited by our monstrous judicial system.”
Even Chantisse seemed startled by the offer, and she took a moment to collect herself. “Once more you’ve surprised me.”
Just then, Dr. Halek slipped into the room, carrying a platter of snacks. Alastor’s eyes went to her straightaway, like she was a lodestone and he’d been magnetized. He slid her a layered smile, one she returned as she dropped the tray beside him with a clatter.
“Will you still love me when I’m penniless?” he asked.
“I’ll love you until the sun goes out. And after,” Sheyla replied, handing Alastor a pack of crackers.
Somehow, her matter-of-fact delivery made the response more moving. There was no excess emotion in her voice or features, but her eyes shone like whiskey lifted to the light, all liquid amber and deep with sincerity. Ro had to look away from that private moment, a pledge between the two of them. It seemed like others at the meeting felt the same, as people chose to glance everywhere but at the once-exiled prince and the Animari doctor who’d saved his life when his brother tried to murder him by denying him medical care.