“It will happen before the next council convenes.”
“Who would believe the pacifist filth would make an attempt on the king?”
“The people will believe what they see, and our coffers run deep enough to paint the truth.”
She didn’t stay to hear more. Jesenia slipped away from the alley, her pulse climbing with each echoing footstep as she ascended the city toward the Golden Citadel.
She could not see their faces, but the way they spoke of her people made it clear that they had to have been Solmiris citizens. Whatever their grievances were, their intent was unmistakable: they wanted to stage an assassination of the king. And she knewin her bones that if they succeeded, the refugees would be the ones paying the price, no matter their innocence.
Jesenia’s legs ached from climbing the steps toward the citadel, but her speed did not falter. She did not know when this council would convene, but she knew it had to be soon, and so she could not hold onto this information for even a moment.
The great citadel rose like golden fire at the top of the hill, vast and gleaming. Its gilded columns caught the soft moonlight so brilliantly it hurt to look at. Banners of crimson, ivory and gold unfurled from towers and above archways, pledging loyalty to the Angel-King inside.
The crimson-cloaked guards at the gates shifted as she came into view, their halberds lowering in perfect unison, points mere inches from her chest.
“Halt, foreigner!”
Jesenia’s throat was dry from running, and she lifted her trembling hands to move her hair that had been stuck to her brow from sweat. “Please–please, I have to speak to the King. It’s urgent.”
The guard on the left tilted his head toward her. “Your business?”
“They mean to kill him!” she blurted. “I–I–I don’t know who, but I heard them! An attempt would be made on the King’s life before the next council. Please–”
“Your kind is not permitted in the upper terraces,” one of the guards said, his weapon still poised toward her.
Jesenia flinched at his harsh tone, but stood her ground, forcing the words through the pounding in her chest. “Please, they will kill him! We have to save him!”
The guards paused for a moment, shared a glance, and then–
Theylaughedat her. They laughed at her for a few long, humiliating moments, before straightening their spines again, disdain returning to their voices.
“Another fanatic,” one said.
The other turned his attention back to Jesenia, taking one measured step forward. His arrogant authority leaked from his armor and stance. “You will return to your quarter. The King is in no danger here. You will not bring your unrest into our gilded halls.”
The words hit hard, yet she kept going. “But I heard them plotting–”
“Off the streets, refugee.Now.”
Jesenia’s nails dug into her palms, the feeling of helplessness and the frustration of being taken for a liar swelling beneath her ribs.
“Please, I swear it on my life–”
“Enough! Go home, girl. I will not say it again!”
For a moment, Jesenia stood there, the sheer weight of this information holding her in place. Jesenia turned to walk away, but paused a half-step forward. Her gaze fell over her shoulder, calculating if she couldjustslip in between the two men…
And before she could think about it, she ran, trying to squeeze through the space between them, shouting to anyone who might be nearby.
“Assassins! Assassins in the city! They’re coming for the king!”
Her voice drew the attention of servants and other guards. From behind her, an onlooker threw a piece of fruit at her.
“Lunarethian filth!” a man shouted. “Always stirring trouble!”
The guards quickly caught Jesenia by the arm, twisting it behind her back and forcing her to the ground.
“Stop resisting!”
