“The Second Families came from Welkland at the same time as the First Families, but we came with trades, not titles. We were shipbuilders, weavers, craftsmen, and as such, we were looked down on,” Theodore explained. “Over the years, the Second Families leveraged their craft into businesses, building wealth that rivals that of the First Families. But the Council of Lords, the patriarchs of the First Families, continue to gatekeep legislation. If the House of Representatives passes a motion that is favorable to us, then the Council will shoot it down. We’ve asked the viceroy to expand the Council to include men without titles, but he has refused.”
Poppy’s brow creased. “Why?”
“The First Families resented the idea of our joining.” Theodore scowled. “Our Founder wrote about the potential of all men to become equal, but all they’ve done is stratify society into subgroups to protect their own power. The system they’ve created here is equally brutal, if not more, to the one that they replaced.”
“I see that we have common ground, then,” Poppy said, seizing on that. “Both of us know what it is to be denied something we are entitled to because it makes people in power uncomfortable.”
Theodore considered that. “We do. But common ground doesn’t always make for common interests. Speaking candidly, there’s a good chance that even with our backing, your bid will fail. For one, your father hasn’t shown much respect for Second Families, so he may not even recognize the support. And from our perspective, unless the reward outweighs the risk, the odds of bringing others on board are low.”
Poppy narrowed her eyes at him, picking up on his evasion. “Are you going to help me make connections or not, Theodore?”
He glanced at Catherine, whose jaw had fallen open at Poppy’s latest response. She shut it quickly, but she couldn’t hide her smirk. “Sorry,” Catherine said, “but you weren’t nearly so assertive when you left. It’s refreshing.”
Theodore chuckled. “Itisrefreshing, especially after hearing your father make pleasant, empty statements for the better part of the last decade. Since you’ve been straightforward with me, allow me to be blunt with you: I’ll make the necessary introductions and brief you on the interests of the Second Families, but you will have to negotiate with them yourself. I am only a liaison. I will not try to influence any of them on your behalf. This way, if you lose your bid, I won’t go down with you.”
“Fair,” Poppy agreed, hiding her unease. How would she win over the Second Families if she couldn’t even secure Theodore’s endorsement?
Sensing her concern, Catherine leaned over to Poppy. “An introduction is an endorsement,” she whispered. “It’s just far more implicit.”
She brightened. “Very good, then. But how are we going to call off the wedding?”
“That”?—Theodore put his hands up?—“is your own challenge. Based on your own account, you have everything to gain by breaking off this engagement. But by going against the Montroses, we stand to lose everything, especially if he ends up becoming our viceroy.”
Her spirits plummeted. “But surely you?—”
“No,” he said. “There’s only one thing I’m sure of, and it’s that I won’t stick my neck out in front of all of society. That is a risk that outweighs the reward, every time.”
“But my brother is a monster,” Catherine protested. She cast Poppy a desperate look. “We can’t allow her to marry him.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “You know I loathe your brother, love. But this is bigger than us. If I contest the wedding, it will invoke the wrath of the Montroses and their allies for generations. We tried to protect Poppy from the start, but she insisted on pursuing Richard. She got herself into this. She can get herself out.”
Poppy flinched at the firm pronouncement.
“Okay,” Catherine said, though her lips were pressed in disapproval. “But if Poppydoesescape, then she stays with us. We’ll shelter her from her father and the Montroses.”
Theodore balked, but the expression on Catherine’s face told him it wasn’t worth the argument. He nodded once. “Then let us recap the terms of our agreement. If you succeed in extricating yourself from the wedding, I will help make introductions to the Second Families. And”?—he hesitated?—“if you can turn them to your cause, I will make my support for you public. Are we agreed, or is there anything else?”
“We’re agreed.” Poppy extended her hand across the desk to Theodore, who shook it once. “Thank you,” she added grudgingly. He hadn’t provided everything she had wanted, but Poppy had one more ally than she’d had this morning, and that in itself felt like a miracle.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Police Business
After several nights of searching for his men without success, Hasan finally tried Samina’s home. He hadn’t wanted to bother her at first, especially since her injuries would not yet have healed. But everywhere he went, he found nothing. The police presence didn’t help with the search, either. He’d almost run into them twice, which was two times too many. He could not understand whom or what they were looking for. Paranjay was still in custody. Zeyar had joined their side. So what were the police doing in the Virian quarter of the city?
He hadn’t figured it out yet, but once he rescued Paranjay, perhaps they could solve that mystery together.
Samina lived in a small, single-room flat with her brother, who was one of the gang’s vasudhakt runners. The flat had been ransacked, just like Kaushal’s. The bed had shifted, the sheets rumpled and pillows slashed. The closet doors gaped, clothes strewn over the floor. The window was unlocked, but when Hasan opened it and looked out onto the roof, no one was there. He had almost resolved to leave when he heard it: labored breathing, coming from inside a vent in the wall. He took a single step backward, squinting between the grills. Sure enough, a shadow lurked within. He clenched his fist, daivyakhi at the ready. Then he tore open the vent cover.
A dark, blurry shape hurtled past him. He lunged, taking the other person down with a grunt. They kicked and squirmed, but he managed to grab both their arms and pin them down. Now that the person had stopped wriggling, Hasan realized his catch was a skinny boy no older than fifteen, all knobby knees and elbows, like a foal.
“Sanjiv?” he asked, astounded. “What on earth were you doing hiding in the vent?”
“I thought you were the police,” Sanjiv said. “I thought they had come back for me.”
Hasan let the boy up, brushing the dust off his shirt and hair. “Come back for you?” What would the police want with a fifteen-year-old boy, especially one who was merely a runner? “Where’s Samina?”
Sanjiv’s eyes grew glassy. “The police took her first.” He sniffed. “That’s why I thought they had returned, to take me too.”
