“The true monster calls himself Sainte Sauvage!” I cried out, my voice hoarse over the sound. I scanned the crowd, and wasn’t surprised to see slivers of red hidden beneath coats or tucked into pockets. “And you have seen theRed Maskswho serve him. Twice in the past span, I have been attacked. Both attempts left me with nothing more than injuries, but I am not the only one who has been targeted. Perhaps you have tasted their harsh judgment for nonbelief in the Scion—extremist graffiti painted on your doors, warehouses set to blaze, children stolen from nurseries, innocent women taken as hostages. Imperial decrees burned to ash because they believe they are above the law. Fanaticism cares nothing for justice—it injures the innocent just as readily as the guilty.”
My words rippled through the crowd. Creeping anger dawned on unforgiving faces. I pressed my advantage.
“It is they who perpetrated this crime. They who infiltrated your city and my palais and put poisonous ideas among you. They who seduced and tantalized a boy too young to shave with ideas too big for him to fathom.”
I gestured to the platoon of Belsyre wolves standing at the edge of the platform. They lurched Pierre LaRoche onto the dais. Bound and gagged, he looked worse than he had when I’d seen him in the dungeons. His lank hair was twice as greasy, matted with dried blood. The small cuts and bruises had crusted over and grown into discolored continents visible beneath his dirty clothes. I cringed, regret screaming through me—this was not the face I wanted to show to the citizens of the Amber City. Why hadn’t I asked about his condition?
The crowd heaved at the sight of him, shouting indistinct, restless curses at the pavilion. Someone threw a piece of rotten fruit—it landed a few feet from where I stood, splatting red and black viscera onto the hem of my dress. I stepped back, fighting against the flood of violent images at the edge of my mind. Control slid like water between my fingers. I glanced over my shoulder, and the mute disapproval of my advisors and friends seemed nearly as loud as that of the muttering crowd. Dowser moved a hand over his forehead, and Gavin looked shocked. Only Sunder looked at me instead of the boy—when his icy gaze caught mine he nodded, minutely.
Ice might be slick to the touch, but right now it was the only thing solid beneath my feet.
“Unbind him,” I ground out to the quartet of Loup-Garou hauling him onto the stand. They looked surprised, and one threw a questioning glance at Sunder, but they did as I asked, cutting the rope around his wrists and untying his gag. The boy rubbed his wrists and flexed his jaw, staring quickly around the pavilion. I noticed him mark each garde, each possible escape. But there was nowhere for him to run.
“Hello, Pierre,” I said.
“Heretic usurper,” he hissed between broken teeth. “The Scion’s sword will cut out your tongue and feed it to the dusk.”
The crowd went quiet. I turned toward them, slowly, hiding my churn of emotions. Pierre’s gardes had informed me that the boy had been aggressively mute since the last time I’d visited him, saying nothing under questioning. I’d expected stoicism, not vocal fanaticism. But what if this new Pierre could work in my favor?
“He curses with the voice of a bitter man of forty, although he is but fourteen!” I called. “Would any of you parents out there let your children speak so to a dauphine, even one born in the dusk?”
I didn’t hear a consensus among the cacophony, so I plunged onward.
“What was left of this boy’s childhood was cut away by Sainte Sauvage, just as readily as his future was. He was preyed upon by radicals, his grief and loneliness and hardship taken advantage of by those who care for nothing but the harsh, bright light of an unforgiving Scion!” I walked over to Pierre, grabbing his wrists and lofting his hands to the sky. He hissed at my touch and tried to break away, but I went on. “These hands, twisted to violence. This head, exploited by tempting lies. This heart, pulsing with treachery. And his soul—stripped of kindness or empathy and filled only with hate!”
The blood pounding in my ears drowned out any sound the crowd made. Pierre looked at me with such loathing I nearly shrank away from him.
“Pierre LaRoche,” I managed. “Did you attack me in the street with intent to assassinate me?”
“Yes,” he snarled. “And since you have freed my hands, Dominion demon, I will try again.”
He launched himself off his stand with startling speed, catching me full in the chest and bearing me to the ground. We hit the boards with a thud, his weight knocking the breath out of my lungs. I gasped at nothing, struggling to make sense of the swirl of light and color blanking my vision. Sound roared in my ears. Fingers scrabbled at my neck. Pain ricocheted from my throat toward the back of my head. Something gave way—whether it was my skin or the fabric of my dress, I didn’t know. I struggled against the disorienting blur of motion, flinging my arms out and releasing a hurricane of color with them.
Gasp
I could breathe again.
Gasp
I was weightless without LaRoche upon me.
Gasp
I staggered upright, spooling the mad burst of illusions back toward my center and shaking my head to clear my vision. Sunder clenched a struggling Pierre against his chest, one arm tight around the boy’s throat while his other hand ratcheted his elbow into his back.
I brought my hand to my throat, where a hot thread of blood trickled along my clavicle. The stays of my gown had split—the kembric bodice gaped obscene, exposing my corset. A vile burst of fury sent heat raging through my veins and nearly unleashed my illusions again.
Not yet.
I stood shakily. The crowd was wild, seething toward the platform against a barrier of Loup-Garou. Whether they wanted to help me or Pierre, I didn’t know.
“He declares himself traitor in actions as well as words,” I rasped. I cleared my throat and projected my voice louder. “And yet, I will be merciful.”
The crowd fell back, uncertainty rippling across their upturned faces.
“You forget—Pierre LaRoche is not the one on trial here today.Sainte Sauvageis.”
Cheers mingled with boos. I saw more than one Red Mask move among the assemblage. Nerves choked me.
