It hadn’t occurred to him at all. “What could you have possibly said?”
“I would have said that when you took Richard to Sanivali to take Poppy, you should have left the key withme, and I would have fetched Paranjay from the neutral location before Montrose could have reneged.” She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Zeyar, I’m shocked that you didn’t think of it. The solution was right fucking there.”
Zeyar flushed with humiliation. That was the thing about Harithi. She rankled a man’s pride, and right now, with his ego wounded, her scorn was like salt in a wound.
He dug his words in hard, trying to pierce her stone heart. “Yeah, well, talking isn’t part of ourarrangement, is it?”
Harithi glared at him. “You’re right. It isn’t,” she spat. “You’ve overstayed your welcome. Get out.”
Zeyar reached over, stubbing out the remains of his cigarette in the ashtray perched on top of a stack ofMiss Marnapurmagazines on the nightstand. He dressed himself in his pants and bloodstained shirt. As he bent to pick up his blazer, he noticed a scrap of newspaper sticking out of Harithi’s blouse pocket. The nameArunwas scrawled over the newsprint, followed by an address.
“What’s this?” he asked, turning around to show her the paper.
Harithi’s face paled. She leaped out of bed, snatching for the scrap. “It’s nothing.”
He yanked it out of her reach. “It doesn’t look like nothing.” Zeyar frowned. Their arrangement wasn’t exclusive, but as far as he knew, neither of them had been with other people in the past year. “Who’s Arun?”
“No one.” She made another futile grab for the paper.
He shrugged, his heart pounding. “Maybe I’ll visit thisArun,” he said. “See what all the fuss is about. Is he ugly? Is that why you’re ashamed of having him as your lover?”
“He’s not a lover,” she said. “Fine! I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to stay out of it.”
“I won’t interfere.”
She sighed. “This is Hasan’s paper, not mine. Arun is a vasudhakt man who’s helping him form the Delegation for Virian Interests. Their aim is to install Poppy Sutherland as vicereine, then advise her in office.”
He almost laughed out loud. Hasan, playing at politics? Hasan, whose first instinct was to fight his problems with fire? He would never last. Either his own delegation would oust him, or he would ruin Poppy Sutherland with his idea of “advice” first. That girl needed someone rational, someone cool and logical.
The delegation needed Zeyar.
“It was good seeing you again, Harithi.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek, but she caught him by the throat.
“Don’t fucking come back here,” she said. Then she kissed him once, savagely, and kicked him out of the apartment.
Chapter Forty-Five
The People’s Vote
The House of Representatives reeked of gasoline. When Poppy had asked about it, staff had told her that vandals had done it some time ago. They had tried to shampoo the carpets, and mopped the floors a hundred times, but the pungent odor lingered. It made Poppy’s head ache even more than it already did.
Today, she would find out if all her efforts and sacrifice would be recognized. The outcome of the vote would be a clear message on what mattered more to the Council: the viceroy’s last wishes or their personal prejudices. She wished she could believe that they would vote on whether or not they believed in her ability to govern, but she knew by now that the only thing they were voting for was their own agenda. The pressure had built in her skull like a bomb, and she doubted if she’d even survive to see the outcome.
The representatives arrived slowly, many of them delayed by the crowd outside. Thousands of Virians of all genders and age groups had shown up this morning outside the House of Representatives, their sweaty bodies crushed against the makeshift barriers the Marnapur police had set up. They had cheered when Poppy had stepped out of the car, an overwhelming show of support so loud she had felt disoriented.
As more and more representatives arrived, the seats in the House began to fill up: a hundred chairs upholstered in green leather, with four extra ones at the apex of the curve upholstered in red, intended for the Council of Lords. Poppy had been given a makeshift seat in the center of the U-bend, where all could see her. The chair was hard and uncomfortable, but she refused to squirm. Instead, she smoothed out the folds in her black mourning gown, running through the Hawk’s checklist for proper presentation:hair bound?—check, skirt straight?—check, back straight?—check, ankles crossed?—check.
When all the members had taken their seats, Lord Colwick rose and cleared his throat. “The House is now in session,” he said. “Today we are debating and voting on a special topic: the succession of the next viceroy. Members will be given two minutes to speak. If a question is asked, then the respondent may only take two minutes to provide an answer. Who will start?”
Gerald Alderfort rose. “Good morning, gentlemen. My first question is for Miss Sutherland. Miss Sutherland, are you aware that succession laws stipulate that only a male can inherit the office?”
Poppy relaxed a fraction; she’d prepared for this. “While we’ve always interpreted the law this way, the actual wording of succession laws does not specify anything about gender. It stipulates that once the viceroy passes away, the seat must be given to the?—and I quote?—‘designated heir.’ My father frequently referred to me as his heir, even in public.”
“That may be so, but thelegaldefinition of heir refers to a male,” Alderfort said.
“If I may intervene.” Theodore rose from his side of the room. “That definition was written when women couldn’t own land. Menhadto inherit property, because no one else could.”
“So now that women can legally own land, would fathers be able to name them as heirs?” Poppy asked pointedly.
