My stomach felt hollow, and I knew what Lieta would ask before she voiced the question. “Yes, you can do the same with curses.”
“I thought as much, that one could. The Serafans certainly did. But, Sophie—can you?”
I hesitated. “We all did a lot of things we wish we didn’t have to,” I said. “But yes. I cast curses.” The weight of those words was heavy, heavier than I had believed it could be.
“Oh, Sophie.” Lieta’s face fell.
“I’m sorry, I know I’ve disappointed—”
“No, no, my dear. I am sorry. To do harm with one’s gift—it was not taken lightly, I am sure, but it will not leave you lightly, either, will it?”
“No,” I confessed. I thought of the riflemen, bodies doubled over as they were racked with pain, of the soldiers enveloped by the darkness at Rock’s Ford, of the screams of dying men on the Royalist naval ship as it was engulfed in flame in the Fenian ocean. That was all done at my bidding, under the darkness I commanded.
“And yet.” Lieta sighed. “And yet many others have caused pain as well. Many others have dealt out death like so many hands of cards.”
“I suppose,” I said, “that it’s only the lucky ones who haven’t done something they’ll regret.”
“I suppose you’re right. And I fear we aren’t finished yet.”
60
“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS,” KRISTOS SAID, “IS THE SLATE OF nominations for the election of Galitha City’s councillors.” I sat in the gallery of the council chambers, what had once been the archive’s large reading room. Now the shelves of books were rearranged against the back walls so that the open space, with benches and a podium for the governors, could host the official business of Galitha. Including mine. I fidgeted as I waited for the housekeeping portion of this session to be completed so that I could raise a grievance against the council—the continuation of Otni’s wartime work-for-rations system. Alice and my casting friends had all confirmed as I’d visited with them in the past weeks that most of their families didn’t get enough to eat under the system and couldn’t find a way to bring in more approved work. My palms were damp against my wool skirt; despite the late winter cold outside, the room was warm with the press of bodies, but I had chosen to wear my Reformist army riding habit quite deliberately.
“Anyone with the requisite number of signatures may have their name included on the ballot,” said Maurice Forrest, who had taken a position as adjutant for the temporary governors. He read the names thus far included, heavy with Red Caps and early agitators of the movement. I nodded—it was fair, for them to be represented in some or all of the five seats on the council open to the city. “This is now the final opportunity for additions to the ballot,” Forrest said in conclusion.
“There is one more.” A voice sailed over the heads of the gallery and the assembled council in front of it, followed by a blur of dove-gray silk and lavender wool cloak.
“Miss Snowmont.” Forrest gave a stiff little bow in greeting. “You are bringing forward a citizen’s signature petition?”
“Indeed I am,” she said with a bright smile. “My own.”
A murmur from the crowd quickly accelerated into a torrent of objection and curiosity, and even a few hearty laughs. I assessed the three temporary governors presiding over the session; Niko scowled, Kristos allowed a little smile to play about his lips, and Theodor looked exhausted.
“Surely,” Niko said, “you must be joking.”
“Certainly not,” Viola answered with mock astonishment. “Who would joke about something so serious, so vitally historic, as our first elections in Galitha City?”
“Viola, I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Theodor said carefully, “but you must know that you are not permitted to run for a seat on the council.”
“Am I not?” Viola’s voice leveled and she met Theodor’s eyes. “I am lately a citizen of Galitha City. There is no law, of which I am aware, which would bar me from running. Nobles are permitted to run provided they have complied with the requisition of their property, which I have. You may all recall,” she said, gesturing delicately, “that I assisted in such efforts with the property of those nobles within the city.” She paused, as though considering more points to levy at the objections, though I was sure she already had them well-rehearsed. “There are in fact several nobles, of minor houses, already serving on the council, who were elected by their peers in Hazelwhite.”
“Despite my concerns regarding noble inclusion on the council,” Niko said icily, “that is in fact not my objection.”
“Oh! Well, I did collect the requisite number of signatures.” Viola handed the stack of papers to Forrest, who dutifully began to scan them. “More, in fact, than requisite.”
“Significantly more,” Forrest muttered.
“You’re a woman!” someone yelled from the council’s benches.
“Very astute,” Viola replied without missing a beat.
“Miss Snowmont,” Kristos said, still fighting back a smile, “it appears that your sex is, in fact, the objection.”
“My sex!” Viola laughed. “There is no law barring my sex from running for the council.” She paused. “There is a law barring my sex from voting in the elections. But not from being voted for, as it were.”
“You can’t be serious.” Niko stood. “We can’t be seriously considering this. We have more important matters to attend to than indulging this former noble in her delusions.”
“Hold on a moment.” Maurice Forrest had a heavy stack of papers and was leafing through all of them, back and forth in a dizzying display of fanned pages. “Definition of nomination—yes, citizen—and citizen definition—yes—does not include sex within the definition of citizen.” He looked up, blinking. “The only requirements to occupy a seat on the council is to be a citizen in good standing with the law, selected by means of a legal election. Our legal documents do not define citizens as male.”
“They don’t, do they?” Kristos said. I gaped at him. “Well, something for the council to take up another time if they so desire.”
“Another time?” Theodor said.
“We can’t take it up right now, it’s a charter matter, which means it must be added to the agenda two weeks in advance and with a written notice.” Kristos shrugged. “Can’t go against our own charter. Miss Viola Snowmont, consider your name added to the legal ballot of the elections for the Council of Country.” Kristos nodded once, and Viola returned it with a dainty curtsy, then sat down next to me.
“Kristos knew, didn’t he?” I whispered.
“He and Ambrose may have helped me check into the legality of the whole thing, yes. And Kristos suggested it needed to be quite public so that I wasn’t simply ignored.” She smoothed her silk skirt.
“And what if you actually win a seat?” I whispered.
“Wouldn’t that be grand?” Viola grinned. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to say?”