Not even Tycho’s worst cruelty.
Chantisse cleared her throat. “Do you agree with your mate’s proposition?”
Sheyla shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “I’m an outsider here, and his family fortune never belonged to me. He can do what he wants with it, though I admit it makes me feel better that the blood money would be spent in a worthy way. Doesn’t make up for how they accrued it, but it’s the best we can do for the people that bastard hurt.”
Seems like that’s pretty much what they called the tyrant in Ash Valley.
Ro had heard Slay say the same words—that bastard—with precisely that infection. She caught his eye; he was hovering near the doors awkwardly like he thought he didn’t have the right to participate. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t a citizen, but she wanted him next to her, so she beckoned with a smile and he came to her slowly, like a feral cat she’d tamed to eat from her hand. Rowena had seen a few in Hallowell, but none of them trusted her enough to accept the food she offered. According to a street vendor, such trust took months to build.
Does Slay trust me?
“If Sy Loudens from the Ministry of Finance survived, he can give you a complete list of our holdings,” Prince Alastor was saying, recalling Ro to the purpose of the meeting. “Sell everything. That includes all the expensive furnishings here. I don’t want any of it. And in that same vein, I don’t wish to be addressed as Prince Alastor anymore. As I’m abdicating and putting an end to this dynastic nonsense, I should be known by my name or whatever profession I manage to acquire.” He propped his chin on his hand and gazed at Sheyla. “What do you think, my darling shalai? Would I make an adequate research assistant?”
“You would be endlessly distracting,” Sheyla said in a stern tone.
“In a good way?” he asked.
Hettie put in gently, “You are currently derailing the purpose of our session.”
Alastor’s face fell. “Oh no, I’ve made everything about me. It’s a family failing. Perhaps I ought to excuse myself now that I’ve donated everything and served my purpose in the war.”
Sheyla nudged him with a tender smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. “Don’t be dramatic, just settle down. The adults are talking.”
Slay sank into the chair next to Rowena and she took his hand beneath the table. He must feel out of place, but Ro couldn’t leave. Not now. She had to see things settled for the people she cared about before she decided what to do about her own future. In her prior existence, dreams had never been an option, not when she was so focused on survival.
“Well said.” Maksim spoke for the first time, his gaze somber. “I’ve been thinking and if we abolish the monarchy, we need some system to replace it, one that treats everyone fairly.”
Someone else spoke up, and from how well fed and groomed the man was, he must be a survivor from the tyrant’s regime. “According to the ancient rite of challenge, if the royal family cannot govern or chooses not to, the champion is next in line.”
Rowena blinked as suddenly all eyes were trained upon her. “Uh, what?”
The meeting fell into complete disarray as the clerk sent an aide for some ancient text to prove the validity of his statement. Fifteen minutes later, he read the codicil that applied as he’d stated, albeit couched in archaic language. Beside her, Slay seemed frozen in shock over the idea that she could be put in charge of Golgerra. Hell, so was she. When some of the furor died down, she spoke loudly to get everyone’s attention.
“That is objectively a terrible idea,” she snapped. “I’m not qualified to lead. My whole life, I’ve followed orders or killed people. That’s the opposite of knowing how to restore order and build a better life for our citizens. What kind of a fucked-up system puts someone in charge because they’re good at murder?”
“Ours,” said Alastor.
Irritated, Ro glared at the man who’d once seemed as powerful as a god to her. “Well, it’s dead wrong, and we’re trying to fix that. Dropping people from high places is not a license to set trade policies or enact fair labor laws. I don’t want our people to fear they’ll be punished for speaking their minds, and if I take over, I’ll be starting my term on the platform of violence. Is that truly what we want for Golgerra?”
“Ro’s right,” Hettie said instantly.
“You could hold an election.” It was the first time Slay had spoken. “We talked about doing that in Ash Valley if Dom didn’t come back…because I didn’t want to inherit the job as his second just because we were friends.”
“I like the sound of that,” Chantisse mused in a thoughtful tone. “But who should run?”
“You,” Ro said straightaway. “If you want to. You’re shrewd and competent and incredibly strategic. You led us out of the undercity and we lost so few compared to the risks we ran. If not for your composure, we might have all drowned as people panicked.”
“I want to lead,” Chantisse admitted. “But only if I have the people’s trust and the full authority to do as I see fit. I will not serve anyone but the citizens of Golgerra and I must have free access to all resources to make my vision a reality.”
Rowena said, “You can’t run unopposed. If you do, that’s not truly an election, and it might mar your reputation down the line. So I’ll run to give people a choice. Others can as well.”
“An excellent plan,” Alastor put in cheerfully, “And I adore the fact that nothing more is required of me. Meeting adjourned?”
Slay wanted to bolt as soon as he sat down.
He didn’t belong in a policy meeting for fuck’s sake. Then Ro took his hand and before he knew it, he was blurting out some impulsive shit. Only nobody looked at him like he was dense. In fact, they were discussing the idea with great enthusiasm and a smidgen of pride crept in over being the one to suggest it. For once his tendency to speak before he considered things properly didn’t bite him in the ass.
“Are you really running?” he whispered to Ro.
She made a face. “Not because I want to win. But everything has to be handled the right way when Chantisse takes power.”
Though her voice was quiet, the resistance leader had Animari ears and she shot a rueful glance in their direction. “You’re assuming I’ll get enough popular support. I believe that I’ll carry the vote from the undercity, but the rest of Golgerra has no idea who I am.”
“They’re learn,” Rowena predicted.
Once the meeting broke up, as Alastor had suggested, giving everyone a break, Slay hurried after Sheyla. “Can I borrow your phone?”
“I should have offered,” she said, seeming stricken by her own lack of foresight. “No doubt yours is long gone.”
Slay hadn’t brought anything with him in jaguar form when he was sent to destroy the C-TAK, so when the Eldritch snatched him, he’d been carted off with nothing. “It’s probably back in Ash Valley, wherever I left it.”
“What happened the night you disappeared?”
Nobody had asked until now. He suspected Ro was being gentle with him, but he wanted to tell the story. “I didn’t have my head on right. Got separated from the rest of the group, and I ran across an Eldritch trail. I thought I could run recon on my own, but they jumped me. Their weapons were poisoned, incapacitated me quick. By the time I knew anything, I was trussed and done.” Quietly, he summarized the journey, torture, and how he’d ended up in Golgoth hands since the Eldritch loyalists quickly fell into disarray after Lord Talfayen’s death.