“Exactly,” Harithi said. “I don’t know how that ties into the arrests, though it does explain why they’re only taking daivyakt. Maybe they’re registering them early?”
“Still doesn’t explain why they haven’t come home,” Hasan pointed out. “Never mind. We have to stop this bill. If we’re on a registry, we’ll be consigned to a life of police surveillance. And that’s just the beginning.”
“You don’t have to persuade me. I’m with you. Buthowdo we stop it?”
“We can’t let this go past the vote in the House,” he said. “It could potentially die if it doesn’t get two signatures from the Council of Lords, or if the viceroy refuses to provide assent. But if Lord Montrose proposed it, then he knows he has the support of at least one other lord, and Sutherland too. So we have to kill it,” Hasan concluded. He stopped pacing, running one hand through his hair. “But how? It’s not like we can petition all the representatives. And we don’t have connections with any of them, either. They hold all the power in this situation.”
He winced as the words left his mouth, a burning echo of those that Zeyar had flung at him in the kitchen with Paranjay, in a different lifetime, after he’d brought Daria home:Our business willneverhave as much power as the legitimate hierarchy.
“You sound like Zeyar,” Harithi said, her criticism disturbingly close to the turn that his thoughts had taken.
He spun on her. “Don’t make this about him.”
“Well, it’s true! He was always going on aboutjoining the legitimate power structure,” she scoffed.
“Because he was right!” Hasan shouted. He dropped onto the couch beside her. He hung his head over his knees and laced his fingers at the nape of his neck. At a normal volume, he said, “He was right, okay? All Devar Brothers got us was control over other Virians. Tell me, Harithi, how is taking advantage of vasudhakt going to help us now? We deal in extortion and violence, not petitions and constituency meetings. Do you want me to kidnap the Council of Lords? Should we just burn down the House of Representatives, while we’re at it?”
“Well,” she said, “we could.”
“Zeyar was right. We should have spent more time trying to?—” He straightened up. “Wait... what?”
Harithi looked him right in the eye. “We could burn down the House of Representatives,” she said. “Seriously. Think about it. If they show up to a pile of ashes, it would buy us more time to find a permanent solution while they regroup.”
“No.” Hasan’s mind raced. “The House shouldn’t be burned before they arrive. That’ll only buy us a week, maximum.”
“Then what?” she asked. “What would get us more time?”
He looked at her, measuring his words before he said, “If we burned it after they arrived. When they’re all inside.”
For a moment, Harithi was rendered speechless. Then, she demanded, “Have you lost your mind? You’re talking about mass murder.”
“Like we’ve never killed before,” Hasan scoffed. “I’ve burned men inside their homes for less,” he added, thinking of Darsh.
“Not rich white men.” Harithi shook her head vehemently. “Hasan, the consequences for burning the nobility... they’ll slaughter us.”
“They’re already slaughtering us!” Hasan seized her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes again. “Don’t you see, Harithi? They starve us, brutalize us, force us to labor in their prison camps. If they tag us like livestock, it’s only a matter of time before they round us up and put us in a pen like cattle. We are all going to die. Will you die on your feet, with a gun in your hands? Or behind an electric fence, shackles around your ankles?”
Harithi closed her eyes, silent. When she opened them, the fire in her eyes matched the heat in her tone: “Let’s cook some representatives.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
A Matter of Succession
“You’re late.”
Richard gritted his teeth at the duke’s admonishment. “I’mlatebecause of the protest, Your Grace,” he bit out. “Another demonstration. Forher.”
He didn’t have to say for whom. Word had gotten out to the masses that Poppy Sutherland was making a bid for vicereine, and suddenly, every uneducated street rat had a vested interest in the line of succession. The police had been breaking up demonstrations for the past week, but the number of protestors vastly outnumbered the number of officers. They would break up one protest, but a new commotion would coagulate somewhere else, clogging the arteries of the city.
The old man only sighed. “Sit.” He gestured across the table to where another place had already been set.
Richard had chosen to meet Sutherland at Hazelwood Gentlemen’s Club, an exclusive club for the upper class. It was a paradox of a place. Its members prided themselves on their good manners and impeccable breeding, but they often escaped to the club to indulge in their vices, be it drink or even laudanum. For this reason, the activities within the club were supposedly sacrosanct, though the comings and goings of each member did not go unnoticed. Men saw who visited and when, whom they came with, whom they left with. Word spread, one way or another. One went to Hazelwood for only two things: privacy or publicity.
When Richard had sent the invitation to the viceroy, he hadn’t known which one he wanted more.
Once he was seated and had given his order to the waiter, he turned to the viceroy again. “Why haven’t you brought your daughter to heel? She’s still meeting with Second Families. Yesterday alone, she met with the Wainwrights and Bluefinches, negotiating bargains. Now, even the rabble is rising in favor of her.”
Sutherland’s mouth twisted in a rueful smile. “She’s not a child anymore. I fear her education has worked a little too well. She is determined, confident, and persuasive.”
