Esther shifts in her seat, and I bet she’s repressing the urge to chastise me again for not being grateful.
“It is beautiful, though,” I say as a way of softening my words.
She stares at the tattoo on my arm, pensive. “Beauty doesn’t mean much without context. It’s beautiful, maybe. Powerful, definitely. But the history of magic is long and complicated.” She scoffs. “Gaiza, it’s short and complicated too.”
I tilt my head. “Did the former heir apparent befoul her tongue with dark words?” I gasp in mock offense, and Esther laughs. For a moment, it’s strange, but we’re almost getting along.
“We don’t have much time left,” Esther says. “How are you feeling about the speech?”
I jump from foot to foot energetically. “I’m ready.”
“You seem…nervous,” Esther objects gently.
“Yes. I’m scared. But ready doesn’t mean not scared. Ready means ready, despite everything. I’m ready.”
“Well, aren’t we a pair,” Esther says. “The former heir apparent and the impossible queen. I think, under the right circumstances, we could tear the world to pieces.”
“Do you see the way the Royals and Legals look at me?” I say. “I think we already have.”
“So you’re ready, then,” she says, standing up tall.
I’ve gotten very little sleep, but I mirror her posture and take a deep breath. “Ready.”
By the time we get to the North Residences, the sky is dark. Belrosa insisted that nighttime would be best for the speech, and I’m still not sure why. She said it was to discourage rioting, that people could go to bed after the speech instead of having an entire day to simmer and stew. I’m not convinced. The riots I escaped were at night, not in broad daylight. But I couldn’t explain that without also explaining that I was at the first riots.
As people gather along the street in front of the Legal residences, it’s difficult if not impossible to see the Nameless. Maybe this is what she wanted: for me to speak to my city but not to my people. The Nameless wear dark clothing, typically scavenged from the Legal’s trash. They are like shadows at the edge of the crowd, invisible in the night.
I wear a bright yellow long-sleeved shirt with an armored vest over it. Esther said it makes me look strong, and I agreed because it’ll protect me if someone gets too close with a blade.
Two Legal servants set up a podium, and the Legals in the crowd shift uncomfortably.
This, of course, is another calculation by Belrosa. Not only am I a Nameless out of my station and rank, but the Legals are serving me and the Royal Guard is protecting me. I am a misplaced puzzle piece. Worse, I’m a puzzle piece glued to the center of an otherwise beautiful painting. And the painting is on fire.
I am the thing that doesn’t make sense.
Faint insults are shouted from somewhere, and I don’t even try to find the source. I move forward to help adjust the podium, and one of the Legals is startled by my motion and flinches. The whole podium angles dangerously to the side, and I immediately withdraw, trying to look apologetic as the audience’s grumbling increases. I adopt a somber expression and speak out of the corner of my mouth to Esther.
“What’s the likelihood someone assassinates me right here?” I ask.
Esther’s aura flares in alarm, and she checks the nearest rooftop and alley.
“Relax,” I tell her, putting a hand on her elbow. “I’m joking.”
“Except you really aren’t, though,” she says.
I toyed with the idea of telling her earlier that someone might take a shot at me, but I didn’t want her to worry, and I needed her to focus. I thought about not telling her at all, but if something goes wrong, she should be prepared.
She twists a thin black ring on her finger nervously, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake as an unfamiliar grip of paranoia wraps around her, smothering her aura.
We’ve practiced this dozens of times throughout the day. I’ve done everything she has said: tilt your head here, allow for a moment of silence there, let your eyes roam the crowd here, be firm and strong and unwavering. I move to the podium, and the crowd is as quiet as they are restless. They’re a sea of shifting limbs and dagger glares. I spot Belrosa among them.
I glance to Esther to see if she’s noticed her. Esther encourages me forward anyway, and I have a brief fear that Esther and Belrosa are conspiring together. What would be better than having me give a speech in front of everyone where I start raving about unity and laws and putting a stop to all executions? If Belrosa interrupts me before I can finish the speech, it could make things worse instead of better.
I clear my throat and begin.
“We can be stronger,” I say. “Together. The city is as strong as its most unified force, but it is as weak as it’s disjointed. We just need something to pull us all together.” At this point in the speech, I’m supposed to make a grand claim about being able to put the city back together, to resolve hundreds of years of disputes. But something feels wrong about saying that. The crowd, mostly Legals with a few Royals scattered throughout, draws closer to listen to me.
I try to think of what would comfort them but also be honest. A crowd this large, they’re already expecting me to give them nothing but empty comfort and reassurances. I’ve listened to my share of speeches. I know what I’d want to hear.
“I don’t know if that is me,” I say, feeling a tingling expectation rise through the collective auras of the audience. “I don’t know if it can be….But we, we can be…”
A warm glow sets on the crowd. At first, it’s like the return of a brilliant dusk—steady and orange. Then it flickers at the edges as though everyone’s auras have combined.
Then I hear the screaming.
Then I see the fire.
The people amassed around me surge toward a set of houses inside the North Residences. The guards abandon me, shouting for the people to fetch water from the nearest firehouse. It’s only one street east—a summer spent filching water from the stone-basin reservoirs taught me that. Glenquartz stays by my side with another guard. Two, now three houses on fire.
A crash of glass and a sound like faint thunder. Four houses. Another scream. I pull at the waist of my armored vest, cinching it tighter as I move forward. Glenquartz puts a hand on my arm to stop me, and I don’t have time to convince him. I throw an open hand against his chest, and he stumbles, startled but unharmed. I run toward the flames.
Auras all over the street rage with fear. The first two houses are already empty. The third house—there are two auras, like bright embers screaming in the fire. I charge in through the front door. The fire is raging in the sitting room: bright fabric upholstery turning black. I feel a silvery aura come up behind me, like steel and crystal, as Glenquartz joins me. There’s nothing restrictive in his aura; it pushes us onward. It gives me strength.