CHEEKY squeezes his hand, trying to comfort him. Then she spies AKRA making his way toward them.
CHEEKY: Akra’s coming to scold us. Should we go back to the theater?
LEO: Not yet.
He cranes his neck to keep an eye on XAVIER as AUDRINNE draws himself up.
AUDRINNE: As an officer and a veteran, I demand the Boy King explain how he can turn his back on us.
LEGARDE: It is not your place to ask for an explanation from the king.
AUDRINNE’s eyes widen; he is incensed.
AUDRINNE: My place? My place is in my sitting room, enjoying my brandy. Which I could do if you had known your own place and held the line. In fact . . .
The rest of his objection is lost in the sudden murmur that ripples through the crowd. The palace door is opening again, and a cold voice drifts out.
RAIK: Alas, your place is in fact aboard the Prix de Guerre.
Hidden behind the statue, CAMREON tenses as his own brother walks through the door. The last time he’d seen RAIK, the Boy King was lying motionless and bloody outside Le Trépas’s empty cell. Now RAIK looks pale and sallow but very much alive, and his familiar eyes are a warm brown.
As the Boy King approaches AUDRINNE, CAM pulls the pen from his pocket.
RAIK: You have no right to ask me anything. But perhaps grief has driven you mad. So in deference to your tragic loss, I will tell you to your face: go back to Aquitan.
AUDRINNE steps back, confused, and the crowd murmurs.
AUDRINNE: What loss?
RAIK: Your wife was killed last week when rebel forces overran your house.
AUDRINNE: My . . . wife?
RAIK: Perhaps you should have brought her to the ship as my decree suggested. But you can still save your son. Get to the Prix de Guerre. Those of you who stay will regret it soon enough.
His face red, his eyes lost, AUDRINNE turns to LEGARDE.
AUDRINNE: What do you plan to do about this?
LEGARDE: I plan to get the living to the ship.
AUDRINNE sags, all bluster gone, and turns back to RAIK.
AUDRINNE: Are you sure she’s dead?
CAMREON: He’s sure.
The pen hidden by his hand, the Tiger steps lightly up the stairs, approaching the Boy King.
Le Trépas likely told him. Didn’t he, Raik?
RAIK only stares at CAM, his eyes wide. The crowd rumbles, uncertain, but AUDRINNE lashes out.
AUDRINNE: Who the hell are you?
CAMREON: I’m Camreon Alendra. The rightful king. And I’m sorry to say that Le Trépas killed your wife, like he killed my brother.
Suddenly CAMREON lunges, grabbing RAIK by the arm. It takes just a moment to make the mark—death—but the Boy King doesn’t fall. Instead, he rips the pen from CAMREON’s hand as the crowd gasps. RAIK looks down at the mark on his hand, then up at his brother.
RAIK: You’ve always thought I was a puppet king. These are my only strings now.
Pulling aside the neck of his robe, he reveals the puckered scar on his throat, surrounded by the healed marks of ugly stitching. CAMREON’s mouth opens—closes. For the first time in a long time, the Tiger looks lost.
CAMREON: You were dead.
RAIK: You only wished I was. Guards!
The shout jolts CAMREON into action. He bounds down the stairs and plunges into the crowd as the palace door swings open again and more Aquitan soldiers pour through the door.
Bring me the Tiger. Show the rest of them to the docks.
As the soldiers swarm toward the crowd, the Aquitans at the front recoil, while those in the back push closer to see what’s going on. Those in the middle cry out in the crush. But AUDRINNE is not ready to give up.
AUDRINNE: Aquitan soldiers obey the Aquitan general!
LEGARDE: You heard him. Bring them all to the docks.
Furious, AUDRINNE raises his gun. LEGARDE’s hand darts out to grab his wrist. AUDRINNE gasps as his bones creak in the general’s grip.
I’ve given you a lawful order. For your safety, and your son’s, I suggest you obey.
He pushes AUDRINNE back toward his carriage, and the man stumbles down the stairs. The soldiers follow him, fanning out before the palace steps to push the Aquitans back. On the other side of the plaza, CHEEKY yelps as someone grabs her hand, but it’s only AKRA.
AKRA: Time to go.
LEO: Thank the gods you’re here. Get her back safely, will you?
Before AKRA can reply, LEO disappears into the swirling crowd toward the palace—toward LEGARDE.
CHEEKY: Leo! Come back!
She cannot follow; AKRA holds her tightly. But at the sound of CHEEKY’s shout, RAIK’s head turns.
RAIK: Cheeky?
Their eyes meet over the heads of the crowd. Then the king points, calling to his armée.
The Chakran girl! Bring her to me unharmed!
The soldiers turn to look at her, and finally CHEEKY lets AKRA pull her away. The crowd flees with them, trying to escape the plaza. As they careen toward the side street, they meet another line of soldiers standing side by side in a blockade.
The men are nervous—never before have they faced their own people. But they are here on the general’s orders, and so they press forward, funneling the Aquitans toward the sea.
AKRA doesn’t stop, and the crowd parts around him, repelled by his uniform. When they reach the cordon, a young soldat stands in their way. He glances nervously at CHEEKY, then back at AKRA.
SOLDAT: Orders are to bring everyone to the docks.
AKRA lifts his chin with all the condescending authority he developed when he was a real capitaine.
AKRA: She’s Chakran, not Aquitan.
The young soldat narrows his eyes, unsure, but finally he nods, stepping back. Then, over the crowd, RAIK shouts.
RAIK: There she is! Don’t let her go!
The soldat jumps at the king’s orders. Then he draws his gun with shaking hands. Before he can point it at CHEEKY, AKRA grabs the weapon, jerking it sideways as the soldier fires. At the sound of the shot, the crowd screams. AKRA grunts at the pain of the bullet. Then he punches the soldier once, twice, thrice, until the man reels away.
Blood streaming down his side, AKRA pushes CHEEKY
