“I’m eighteen years old,” she said, ignoring the words on the page before her. “And I, like all of you, have spent the past eighteen years living in a country that knew nothing but grief and darkness. But I’m not like you. I grew up inside the walls of a palace; I didn’t have to worry about food or money. I didn’t have to raise my children not to smile, not to laugh. I didn’t grow up fearing that the slightest wrong move might be interpreted as an insult, and fear I would be beaten for it. Whatever I thought I had suffered, you’ve suffered more. Hurt more. Lost more. And I can’t undo that. I can’t turn the clock back and right the wrongs Harun Ventaxis visited on you. Nor the ones his father did. In that, the Sons of Rhannon are right. The last century has seen Ventaxis after Ventaxis let you down.” She paused. “Grind you down.”
Across the room she saw Charon staring at her.
“I’m not like them,” Sorrow continued. “I know it’s an easy thing to say, as I stand up here, courting you. Trying to impress you because I want your vote. Why should you trust me? Why should you listen? You don’t know me. But I want you to. And I want to know you. I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to meet you, trying to get to know you, and what you want. I know Arla Dove in Asha is frightened she’ll die before she sees her great-grandson smile. I know Mael Braith in the East Marches can’t imagine the sound of music. And I know a man who would have liked to be an artist, if Rhannon allowed the arts to flourish.” She gave Luvian the briefest flicker of a glance at that, pleased when she saw him smiling up at her.
“I expect all of you have a story like theirs. Something lost to you. Opportunities you’ve missed, sacrifices you’ve made, seen loved ones make. You’ve all been asked to suffer so much. Today I was supposed to read out a list of things I plan to do for Rhannon, but I’m not going to. They’re just words, and they mean nothing without actions. I want to be a chancellor of action. So here is my promise to you all: I plan to keep travelling Rhannon, to visit every district at least once every six months, more if needed, to speak to you. Not to my senators –” she nodded at the Jedenvat “– but directly with the people. I’m going to work with the Jedenvat to get to the heart of what you need, and figure out how we can raise the money for it without taxing you further. I want the museums to reopen, and the libraries. I want the universities to teach literature and philosophy and art and music again. I want to build relationships with the countries around us, and work with them to create more opportunities – things we haven’t dreamed of yet: transport, tourism, science, medicine. And I’m going to listen to you and then decide what laws to change, or to make. I want Rhannon to be the country it should have always been. Because whatever else I am, first and foremost I’m the daughter of Rhannon.”
She took a step back, and listened to the deafening silence that rang through the room, blood rushing in her ears as she took in the stunned faces below her. She’d gone too far.
She looked down at the paper, held in her trembling hand. Maybe it wasn’t too late—
The room erupted into thunderous applause; the force of it jolted her bones.
Luvian’s face was shining below her – she could already see the palms of his hands reddening from the force of his claps. On the platform Bayrum Mizil, Tuva Marchant and Arran Day had risen to their feet; Charon was sitting up tall in his chair, his hands raised over his head. Even Samad and Kaspira were clapping with more enthusiasm than Sorrow had expected. Balthasar alone remained still, but there was no surprise there.
Down in the audience the people clapped, on and on, guards and citizens daring to beam openly at each other. It was only when the announcer stepped forward that the cheers died away.
“Mael, would you like to present your plans to the people?”
He nodded absently, and looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. It was crumpled, gripped too tightly while Sorrow had been speaking, and she watched him smooth it out and scan the words. He opened his mouth once, twice, as though to speak, but no words came. Low murmurs rose from the crowd, the announcer cleared her throat, and Mael shook his head, before turning to Sorrow, his face expressionless.
“No,” he said.
Then he turned, and walked off the stage.
Without stopping to think, Sorrow followed him, running to catch up as he tore through the corridors.
“Mael, wait!” she called.
He stopped so suddenly she almost crashed into him.
“Did you know that’s the first time you’ve ever addressed me by my name?” He spoke without turning.
Sorrow faltered. “That can’t be true.”
“It is. Believe me, you notice these things.”
There was an uncomfortable sensation in Sorrow’s stomach. It was exactly as Harun had done to her. Calling her “daughter”, never using her name.
She swallowed, trying to cover her sudden nervousness. “Is it? It’s not as if we’ve had many chances to talk.”
“We could have. I’ve tried to.”
He began to walk away again, and Sorrow’s unease grew.
“Are you… Are you all right?” she called after him.
He turned, and the expression on his face was so fierce, so twisted, that she took a step back.
“What happens to me, after you win?”
“What?” Sorrow was stunned. “Where has this come from?”
“Where do I go? I’ve been thinking about it, ever since the Gathering. The Winter Palace won’t ever be my home, will it? You’ve made that very clear. You don’t want me in your life. And Lord Vespus is done with me. He told me you’re going to win. So, answer me. Where do I go?”
“He what?” Sorrow was stunned. “Mael…”
“Every time I have something it’s taken away.” He sounded like a little boy then, and something cracked inside Sorrow, shame spilling out of it. “I lost Beliss, and my home in Rhylla, and I thought it was all worth it, because I’d have a family here. Then my father died the day after – the day after –” he paused, pressing his palms to his eyes “– I met him. And Lord Vespus…” He paused, shaking his head. “And I have tried throughout all of this to build a relationship with you because I thought when it was over we…” He shocked Sorrow as he hit himself, one, two, three times in the face with the heel of his hand. “I thought I could come home. But it’s like Lord Vespus says, I don’t have a home. I’m nothing. I don’t belong anywhere.”
“Mael,” Sorrow whispered, as her heart broke for him. And for herself. Because she realized then she’d behaved exactly as Harun had. All the fears of her bad blood stood manifest before her, broken by her. She was as bad as he was. “I’m so sorry…”
Footsteps behind made her turn, as Irris and Arta caught up with them.
When she looked back, Mael was gone, and Arta hurried after him.
“Come on, Sorrow.” Irris took her by the arm and pulled her away. “Come on.”
It Falls the Way it Leans
Sorrow didn’t celebrate that night. Because the election was the following day, and the results would be announced in Istevar, they returned to the Winter Palace, but she declined Irris’s suggestion that they order a lavish meal to her rooms, and instead she went straight to bed. The image of Mael’s wretched, shattered expression wouldn’t leave her; every time she blinked she could see it, the wildness there. The fear. Of being alone. Of having no one. Of being no one.
She’d done that to him. She, who knew better than anyone what it was like to mean so little to the people who were supposed to love you. But she hadn’t done it alone. What had Vespus said to Mael to break him so completely?
How much of the misery all of Rhannon had suffered lay at Vespus’s door?
It made her furious he was there, in the palace right now, secure in his status as ambassador once more. Sleeping under her roof, in her country. Not for long, she thought viciously. At least, not outside of a jail cell. One more day. Then she could have her revenge.
A bird tapped her window and she got out of bed, o
pening it. The hawk remained still as she took the letter from the bag attached to its foot, and then vanished into the night.
She expected it to be from Luvian, congratulating her.
But it was from Vespus.
Come to my room, was all it said, signed with a neat V.
There were guards outside all of the wings, to prevent them from trying to get to each other. But she could use the passageway. And she wanted to. She wanted to lash out. She wanted to let Vespus know he wasn’t as clever, or a sly, as he thought. That he didn’t have all the aces.
She didn’t stop to think, quickly dressing in a tunic and trousers, and turning her lamp on. Then she disappeared into her wardrobe, opened the passage and vanished into it.
Sorrow realized as the bureau moved she didn’t know which room was Vespus’s, but a hunch saw her knocking lightly at the door of Rasmus’s old room.
When it swung open and his father stood there, smiling as though she’d pleased him, she knew she was right.
He held the door open for her and she entered.
“Hello, Sorrow,” he said once the door had closed.
“What do you want?” Sorrow wouldn’t be polite. Not to him. Not any more.
He said nothing, moving to sit at Rasmus’s desk, where he’d obviously been before she arrived. There was a single candle on the table, beside a crystal flask full of clear liquid and two tumblers. Vespus’s eyes glittered as he looked at her.
“Won’t you have a seat?” he said, his Rhannish as perfect as ever. “Can I get you a drink?”
Sorrow eyed the flask. “If it’s Starwater, no, thank you.” She didn’t bother to use the Rhyllian form. “I’m aware of the consequences of it.”
“Are you now?” Vespus smiled silkily.
“I’m not here to play games, Lord Vespus. I’m tired of games. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. So let’s please not waste either of our nights with wordplay and sport. What do you want?” She said each word slowly, deliberately, holding his gaze.
“I want to make a deal with you.”
Sorrow laughed. “Are you joking?”
“Not in the least.” He poured himself a little of the liquid and drank.
“All right. Why?” she asked.
“You know why. A little bird told me you know.” He smirked. “Land, Sorrow. I want land in the north of Rhannon. Specifically the North Marches. The soil there is of exceptional quality, the light is good, the weather fair, but not too hot, and it’s close to the river. Irrigation would be easy. In short, the conditions are perfect for raising Alvus trees. Even someone without my ability could, with the right amount of expertize, do it.”
“So this is all because you want to be a farmer?”
“You said no sport, Sorrow.” There was an edge to his voice. “Do you know anything about the Alvus tree?”
She wasn’t sure if she was meant to answer, so said nothing until he looked at her pointedly, then recited, “The wood makes exceptional musical instruments.” When his eyes flickered to the flask, she continued. “And if the sap is fermented, mixed with water, and then distilled, it creates a liquid called Starwater, which increases the effects of alcohol, at least in Rhyllians. In others, it’s intoxicating in a less pleasant way.” She didn’t tell him she knew about Lamentia. Not yet. She’d play that card only once she’d seen his hand.
“Very good. Well done, Sorrow. Well done.”
“I also know your half-sister hates it.”
“Because she knows what it can do. What it can really do, not what my idiot son and idiot niece achieve when they lace their champagne with it.”
Sorrow frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You were there, at the Naming. You saw the Blessers, feted, celebrated for their special gifts. And you know that not every Rhyllian is born with an ability. It’s down to fate, or nature. Or the will of the stars, if the old fairy tale is to be believed. Either way, there’s no predicting who will or won’t have one. Some families have no one with an ability; in some everyone has one.”
Sorrow nodded.
“Starwater heightens abilities,” Vespus said, picking up the flask. “Taken by anyone who has one, it enhances the power of it fivefold. It’s not the effect on other alcohol that makes Rasmus and Eirlys giddy. It’s power. They’re drunk on their own power.”
Sorrow remembered the party in Rhylla, the mania in Rasmus’s eyes and how it had scared her. She was scared now, she realized, as the magnitude of what Vespus was telling her sank in. Enhanced abilities. “How do you know?” she managed.
“How do you think?” Vespus looked at her.
“You’ve been testing on people?”
“Myself, first. Then others, when I realized what was happening. The same thing every time. That’s the true reason Melisia hates it. Why she’s not fond of me any more. Because it would be a political disaster for her if it got out. A race of people who not only have gifts beyond what their neighbours have, but who have the power to amplify them. You know the tale of Adavere and Namyra? Imagine that power, already strong, magnified. Or Eirlys’s power with ice?”
Sorrow saw exactly why it would be a problem. It would be tantamount to painting a target across the entire country; weaponizing the people would make Rhylla a potential threat to every land in Laethea. Every country would be forced to take action to get reassurances from them that they wouldn’t use it. Astria and Nyrssea would be in uproar if they found out. They wouldn’t settle for promises, or treaties. They’d want all sources of Starwater destroyed, perhaps even calling for the imprisonment of Rhyllians with abilities.
Unless they tried to harness them. Kidnapping them. Buying services from less scrupulous Rhyllians. Like Vespus.
Melisia had worked her whole life to bring peace to Rhylla, and had finally secured it, only for her own brother to discover a way to make it impossible for ever if word got out. And Vespus wanted to use Rhannon as the farm to make it happen.
Vespus waited for Sorrow to look back at him, her mouth an “O” as wave after wave of horror engulfed her, before he continued. “And there are other gifts as well. Gifts we don’t talk about. Gifts Melisia keeps hidden away, because it doesn’t suit her ideas of how Rhylla should be. She’s nice when she needs to be, my half-sister, but I didn’t get my determination from my father. Melisia has her fair share, she’s capable of making tough decisions too, when she has to.”
He paused, clearly waiting for Sorrow to ask what he meant, but she couldn’t, the air squeezed from her lungs, her terror a corset ever-tightening as his words and their meaning battered her.
When she remained silent, he gave a light shrug, and continued.
“As Rasmus can heal pain, there are those whose touch inflicts it. Rhyllians who can project visions into the mind. Imagine what that would mean, when amplified? My half-sister works so very hard to make sure the rest of Laethea doesn’t see us as a threat. Why? We are a threat. Stronger, faster, gifted. And we could be more, thanks to the sap of the Alvus tree. A tree that only I can grow with any real success.”
Sorrow finally saw then why the land was so valuable to him. Why he was willing to try for decades to get it. Why he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever stop. “If you have better land, you can grow more trees. Make more Starwater. Sell it.”
“More than that, Sorrow. Power. For every person like Melisia who thinks it’s an abomination, two others will want it. Fight for it. Fight for me to grow it for them. And that’s only the start. No one knows the full extent of what the Alvus tree is capable of,” Vespus said. “Or most plants, for that matter. Did you know all medicine comes from plants? All of it. Imagine how much there is to be discovered. What if Starwater is the secret to unlocking abilities in all Rhyllians? What if a daily dose of Starwater in a pregnant woman guarantees a child born with an ability? At present less than forty per cent of Rhyllians have one. Perhaps I could make that one hundred per cent.”
Sorrow knew then that she’d made a mistake. She should have
ignored Charon’s warning when they first met Mael, and contacted the Rhyllian queen with her suspicions about Vespus. Melisia obviously had concerns about her half-brother’s ambitions all along, if Sorrow had only reached out…
She looked at the Rhyllian lord, the confident smile playing at his lips, and something else occurred to her.
“Why are you telling me this now?” Sorrow asked.
“Because you are going to give me the land I want after you win the election tomorrow.”
He said it with such certainty that Sorrow caught herself about to nod before she managed to stop herself. “You have no way of knowing I’m going to win. Mael might.”
“No, he won’t. We both know that now. And even if, by some miracle, he did, he’d hand it to you. All he wants is for you to love and accept him. He seems to think I’m the reason you hate him, and that’s why you have such a troubled relationship. He’s made it very clear that if he were to win, I wouldn’t be welcome here because of it. So I suppose it’s lucky for me now that he’s not going to.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you think I’d give you Rhannish land.”
“Firstly, because I know about you and my son.”
Sorrow’s skin flamed as her innards turned to liquid.
“Don’t bother denying it. I know.” His eyes turned to the bed, his brows raised, and Sorrow’s face burned brighter.
“He told you?” Sorrow said. There was no point in lying if that was the case.
“Stars, no. He’d sooner betray his entire country than harm you. No, he didn’t tell me.”
“Then how?”
Vespus took another sip of his drink. “You never did figure out who your spy was, did you?”
A shiver ran through her as some instinct woke inside her. Something slippery and loose: a warning. She’d walked into the room believing she had the upper hand, but right then she wondered what other cards Vespus held, that he was so willing to show her the ones he had.
“Who was the spy?” She fought to keep her voice level.
State of Sorrow Page 36
