Made them change.
But if Fernand killed Lafontaine now, would that be enough? Wouldthe Counseil’s followers across the river bow to Restes authority? And would Fernand and his band of rebels rule fairly?
The cycle would start anew.
She knew what she had to do.
She doubled back to her station and found a lingering smudge of the dish she needed, then fought her way to the caravan.
It might not work. The sun might rise on a smoldering Anespérer, but she had to try. All her life she’d believed her mother was a fool to try and fail. But that was how great art was made.
By the time she scaled the caravan, Fernand had Lafontaine pinned in his chair, a knife raised above his heart.
“STOP!”
She dove between them right as the knife came down.
46NIK
As soon as Elara disappeared, Nik was unmoored.
He’d come herefor her.
He was willing to fight his fatherfor her.
What was he supposed to do now? All around him, people were dying for their friends and neighbors, but Nik had left this life a long time ago. He didn’t belong here. But he didn’t belong across the river either.
A bullet whizzed by his head.
He found cover behind the platform of the hideous weapon his father had created. Fitting. He was always hiding in his father’s shadow, begging for scraps of light. Lafontaine had never intended to treat him as an equal. After Elara, he would’ve put Nik’s head in that contraption and never batted an eye as the blade came down.
“Nik!”
Chantal crouched beside him. A cut on her cheek wept, and her Restes dress was covered in filth, but she looked whole. Safe.
Nik ripped off the chef’s coat and used the sleeve to clean her cheek.
“What’s the plan now?” she asked. “Elara and Fernand are dealing with Lafontaine? How do we help?”
“I have no idea,” he said. “But you should go. Get somewhere safe.”
“To hell with that!” Blai skidded to his other side, followed by an officer.
Blai snapped a pistol up and it cracked in a puff of smoke. The guard fell.
“We aren’t going to hide here while the others have all the fun.” Blai loaded the gun again. “Use that brain of yours, Dupont.”
There was no plan. Nothing he could even begin to dream of. Everyone had their place, even the boy with his butterflies.
The boy.
The paper.
Nik looked up to the banner of Lisette Plouffe, who smiled, oblivious to her city tearing itself apart beneath her watch.
“Collect every flyer you can find within a few blocks,” he ordered. “Meet me back here.”
Chantal and Blai scattered without question, as if he deserved such loyalty.
