"The crimes have been exposed." I raise my voice over the screaming, over the running, over the chaos. "Faith ordered the attack on Discord. Faith killed thirty-seven people. Faith tried to silence the survivors. And now Faith is done."
A guard—young, terrified, still holding a weapon he clearly doesn't know what to do with—stops running and stares at me.
"Anyone who wants to fight about it can take it up with Discord." I gesture at Koshin without looking at him. Don't look at the blood. Don't look at the body. Don't look at the way his chest is heaving or the way his eyes are completely silver or the way he's watching you with that hungry—
Focus.
"Anyone who wants to walk away—walk away. It's over."
The guard drops his weapon and runs.
Coin's delegation hasn't moved. They're still in their corner of the plaza, watching with those ledger-counting faces, figuring out how this changes their margins and their leverage and their carefully maintained neutrality. One of them is taking notes. Actually taking notes, stylus moving on parchment whilechaos swirls around him. I'd be impressed if I didn't want to shove that stylus somewhere uncomfortable.
"The witness lives." I point at the platform where the crying man is still bound. "Someone cut him loose. Now."
No one argues. A woman—Discord, one of ours, I recognize her from the Hollow—pushes through the thinning crowd and starts working at the ropes.
The plaza is emptying. Faith's people are gone, fled, scattered, broken apart so fast it's almost impressive. Centuries of divine authority dismantled in about ninety seconds. The High Priest's blood is still spreading, still shining red against the grey stone, and his followers are already pretending they never knew him.
I should feel triumph. Vindication. Something heroic. Instead I'm wondering how long until I can get Koshin alone.
Priorities firmly in order, as always.
"Iowyn."
My father's voice cuts through the noise, and I turn to face him.
He's standing at the edge of the plaza near Coin's delegation, and his face is pure disgust.
Cold, familiar disgust.
The look he used to give me when I said something that embarrassed him in front of important people. The look that usually came before—
Don't flinch.
Don't flinch.
You're not that girl anymore.
"This is what you've become." He doesn't bother to lower his voice. The people still in the plaza—survivors, Coin observers, the woman cutting the witness free—they all hear him.
He wants them to hear.
"Standing with murderers. Covered in someone else's blood. Declaring yourself authority while bodies cool at your feet."
I'm not covered in blood. The blood is on Koshin, not me. But accuracy isn't the point. It never was with him.
"You are no daughter of mine."
Louder now.
Performing.
This is for the audience.
"House Solyne denounces you. Your name will be struck from our records. You are disgraced, disowned, finished—"
"Okay."
