Cassandra kept her face carefully neutral, ashamed that so many of her fellow mortals had gleefully accepted this yoke of subjugation cloaked as freedom, as protection. Lapping at the hand that barely fed them.
“Which turns my attention to the enemies among us.” Eamon stepped back from the podium, surveying the Fae seated to the left and right of him. “Unfortunately, not even your trusted colonial leadership is immune to these traitorous ideals. One of them has been working to undermine our peace, a member of the very organization sowing discord and destruction within your cherished city.”
Cassandra braced herself to hear the name of the male who had tortured her, pinching the skin between her thumb and forefinger to distract from the terrifying memories threatening to overtake her sanity.
“In fact,” Eamon said, “he sits among us even now.”
Shock, raw and tingling, blazed down Cassandra’s limbs and she speared a glance towards Tristan, who avoided her gaze with calculated stoicism.
Eamon aimed a curt nod at one of the Vasilikan guards who flashed to Ronin in a supernatural blur of black, then yanked the Beastrunner from his chair and dragged him to the center of the stage.
Ronin didn’t fight them. Why wasn’t he fighting them?
“Councilor Matakos,” Eamon began, “or should I sayformerCouncilor Matakos. You have been accused of conspiring with the Teles Chrysos, in defiance of your Empire and the High Gods. Do you deny these charges?”
“Never,” Ronin declared, determination gracing his lupine features.
The crowd surrounding the stage gasped, followed by a buzz of angry whispers.
“The Teles Chrysos will restore the Creator to glory and see your palace of lies crumble to the ground,” Ronin roared. “A New Ethyrios will be born from your ashes!”
Something flared in Cassandra’s chest at Ronin’s defiant proclamation, as if a second heartbeat thumped behind her own. The prickling at her shoulder blades transformed into a fiery blaze. It was all she could do to stay seated, sweat beading at her temples from the control she exerted over her body.
“Enough!” Eamon roared, a billow of wind blasting from the podium and rushing across the plain. “You will be delivered to Tartarus to await sentencing from the Imperial Council in Delos. Though considering I am the head of that Council, I don’t like your odds.”
Ronin smirked as the vicious mob rattled the fences, and the Vasilikan marched him from the stage.
Tristan caught Cassandra’s eye and traced the letter M along his thigh, an attempt to calm her with their secret message.
Eamon regained his composure, tugging at the cuffs of his elegant black and gold brocade jacket and straightening his circlet. He raised his hands to the crowd, quieting their fury.
“Friends, as much as it pains me to say this, Councilor Matakos is not the only enemy hiding within our midst. While our dear Vicereine Lykan has been doing everything in her power to maintain peace in your precious colonies, there are a number of my own species here working in opposition to her. Operating dens of sedition where the lines between human and Fae blur. Giving rise to mutinous philosophies like those of the Teles Chrysos.”
A line of Empire soldiers burst from the palace, dragging several beaten and bloody Fae up onto the stage.
Cassandra nearly burst out of her chair at the familiar, auburn hair among the line-up.
Reena.
No nono.
The Beastrunner female radiated a murderous rage despite her swollen black eye and bleeding split lip. Two Empire soldiers propped her up, facing her towards the snarling crowd. Her one good eye was dull and glazed, likely the result of a suppressant to stop her from calling upon her tiger and cutting the soldiers to ribbons.
Reena’s fingertips were coated in blood and black bits of gore. They’d torn out her fingernails.
Cassandra’s gorge rose, and she made to stand from her chair, but Tristan shot her a hard look.
They could do nothing to help Ronin or Reena right now. Not with all these eyes upon them. And though Tristan’s face was carefully neutral, the vein ticking in his jaw warned that whatever fight Eamon had just started would not be ending today.
“The traitorous Fae you see before you will be joining Ronin Matakos in Tartarus. And my sincerest apologies for allowing them to lure your species into a false sense of camaraderie. Our peace can only thrive when the strict boundaries between our species are maintained.”
Cassandra had never felt so aware of her own mortal blood, tinged though it was with drops of Fae magic. Every molecule in her body was screaming at her to run.
The Empire soldiers marched Reena and the other battered Fae off the stage and into the palace.
As Eamon pivoted to the crowd, his hateful eyes snagged Cassandra’s, coating her insides with shards of ice.
“Thank you for being patient, my friends,” Eamon crooned. “I know this is not a pleasant business, but it’s one we must endure. For your safety and the safety of all Ethyrios.”
