I pulled my shoulders back. Yes, I’d revealed myself, but if my getting off the field would make it so Abraham could get medical attention, then that’s what I’d do.
The crowd cheered. I glanced over my shoulder.
Somehow, impossibly, they had gotten Abraham onto his feet.
He looked over at me, his gaze pleading me not to go.
Hell to everything.If I stayed, was I breaking my deal with Reeves Silver? If I left, was I breaking the deal?
Which action would keep my brother safe, my grandmother safe? Leaving Abraham? Leaving House Gray?
Reeves hadn’t asked me to leave. He’d just asked me not to get in the way of whatever happened today. I glanced up, looking for Quinten. He was still there, still standing between the men in the stands.
So maybe I hadn’t blown this deal yet.
I took a step toward Abraham.
“Stop this event.” A voice echoed across the arena, silencing the crowd, silencing the announcers. “I am Robert Twelfth, the galvanized of House Orange. As of this moment, I am also standing as head of House Orange. Stop this event. Immediately.”
Screens filled with his image. Robert Twelfth, Abraham’s friend who had been acting so strangely. Abraham’s friend whom Neds had said wasn’t who he appeared to be.
“Slater Orange has been murdered,” he said.
A cry rose from the crowd, drowning out the voices in my ear.
“His blood is on the hands of House Gray.”
A second cry rose from the crowd.
Abraham weakly pushed away from the others. Even though he should have fallen, he remained standing. I didn’t know how he did it.
“What proof do you have against House Gray?” he asked, his voice picked up and amplified by the recording devices.
“My eyes, my word, and my witness.” The screen flickered, and Robert’s image was replaced by a recording of Abraham walking over to the bed where Slater Orange sat. In one smooth motion, Abraham pulled a gun and shot Slater Orange.
The crowd screamed and cried out.
Men and women dressed in House Black flooded the field. House Black, Defense, coming to arrest Abraham. Coming to take him away.
Buck was already on the field, heading toward Abraham.
And then another voice called out: Oscar Gray.
“The accusation of House Gray will not be tolerated.” There was no need for the camera to search Oscar out. He strode onto the field through another door, wearing a fine-cut gray suit and coat.
The forces from House Black paused and created a ring around Oscar and the galvanized, facing outward to halt the restless crowd that looked ready to jump the stands.
Every person in the stadium was on their feet.
“Robert Twelfth,” Oscar said, as he strode toward Abraham, “House Gray does not recognize your right to speak for House Orange without the proper procedures in place. This matter will be brought into the private audience of the Houses immediately. Remove yourself from this arena and join us there.”
“Agreed and accepted,” Welton Yellow’s voice said over the speakers.
Eight other voices—the heads of the Houses—including Reeves Silver, also agreed and accepted Oscar Gray’s request for a private audience to find out what was going on.
The crowd’s voices rose in heightened chatter. If I ran now to find Quinten, would anyone miss me?
“Matilda.” Oscar waved me over, then turned to Abraham, helping him stay on his feet. Abraham looked even worse than a moment ago, as if standing on his own had taken the last of his strength.
