“I have to ask,” Althorn said. His voice was polite, but there was an edge to his tone that suggested he was deeply worried. “Why are you still here?”
Emily hesitated, unsure what to say. She didn’t have a role any longer, as far as everyone outside her select group knew. She didn’t want to lie to him, either. And yet...
She kept her voice low. “Someone is manipulating both sides,” she said. “And if I can find him, I can try to stop the coming bloodbath.”
“The royalists will not stop,” Althorn said. “And we will not surrender.”
“Yes,” Emily agreed. “But if I can catch the person responsible, I can use it as leverage to convince the White Council to put pressure on the royalists.”
Althorn laughed, humorlessly. “It won’t work,” he said. “There’s no amount of leverage the council - or anyone - can bring to bear that’ll make up for loss of their ancestral lands and titles. If they go into exile, the best they can hope for is being powerless petitioners. That never ends well for anyone.”
“I have to try,” Emily said. She reached out gingerly with her senses. There was nothing to suggest that Althorn himself had been influenced by the unknown enemy, although she knew that was meaningless. He could have been influenced without magic. “It might be enough to save the day...”
“You can try,” Althorn said. He shrugged. “And that was...”
The ground shook. A crack of thunder echoed through the air. Emily glanced around and saw a giant fireball rising from the far side of the city. A bomb... a big bomb. Had someone just blown up the gunpowder stockpile? She couldn’t imagine anything worse, not now. Gunpowder was relatively easy - if disgusting - to make, but it took time. How long did they have before the royalists tried to scale the walls? She didn’t know.
Althorn muttered a curse. “We need to move.”
Emily followed him as he ran, picking his way through the barricades. The tension in the city seemed to have gotten worse. She saw a man being interrogated by a pair of armed soldiers, apparently for being out of his district when the balloon went up. She had a feeling the poor guy was going to be hanged - or worse - just for sheer bad luck. Eyes followed her as they ran, some unfriendly. She wondered how many people blamed her for the chaos. Councilor Triune might not be the only one who blamed everything on her.
Not that he said it to my face, she recalled as they reached the palace. A mob outside the walls was loudly demanding something, although their demands were so varied it was hard to tell what they really wanted. The guards were taking up defensive positions, eyes nervous as they watched everyone passing through the gates. He barely paid any attention to me at all.
Jair was standing by the palace gates, reading a note. He looked relieved to see Althorn, then suspicious when his eyes lighted on Emily. He didn’t know - she thought - that she’d read his mind, but... he had reason to be paranoid. She was an aristocrat in her own right, even though she’d been ennobled rather than inheriting the title. And she was sheltering Prince Hedrick.
“That was the northern food store,” Jair growled. “The royalist scum blew it up!”
Emily shuddered. She’d known Dater would look for an easy way to weaken the defenders. Taking out the food supplies was perhaps the simplest, although... it would leave him with the problem of feeding the city if it surrendered. Perhaps he’d decided to let the population starve, in hopes of teaching any future rebels a lesson. Perhaps...
Jair’s eyes hardened. “Hand over Prince Hedrick,” he ordered. “It is time for him to pay for his crimes.”
“You haven’t revoked his safe conduct,” Emily said. Standing on legalities wasn’t likely to impress him, but... there was no point in making matters worse. “You can order him out of the city. You can’t drag him out of the house and hang him.”
Jair’s fists clenched. “We can’t?”
“No,” Althorn said. “But we can deal with the queen. There’s nothing to be gained by keeping her alive any longer.”
Emily looked at him, searching for an argument. “That might be what Dater wants,” she said, finally. “If you kill her, he gets to turn her into a martyr without having to deal with her himself.”
“She fucked him,” Jair said. “I...”
“Do you really believe that crap?” Emily forced herself to calm down. “Do you really?”
“She must answer for her crimes,” Althorn said. “And quickly, before the battle begins.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“KILL THE WHORE! KILL THE WHORE!”
Emily shuddered as the mob shouted louder and louder, their voices blurring together into a single terrifying roar. The troops had pushed the mob back far enough to set up a makeshift courtroom, in the open air in front of the palace, but it was all too clear it wouldn’t be long before the angry crowd surged forward. They were shouting so loudly she was convinced Prince Hedrick would hear, back in the house. She hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid.
Aiden looked pale as she stepped up beside Emily. The mob’s chant had to be getting to her too. It was growing increasingly graphic, with all kinds of vile suggestions of precisely how the queen should be killed. Emily surveyed the council, noting that Jair seemed amused while the remainder looked concerned or fearful. She doubted any of them really cared about the queen herself, but they’d have to expect Dater to make some response to her death. And the hell of it, Emily thought, was that Dater might be secretly hoping the queen would be killed as well.
Those rumors aren’t going to go away, no matter what happens, Emily thought. The accusations of incest would be brought up, time and time again. Dater will have to send
