“No,” King Lix’tuk roars, turning to the crowd. His deep, resonant voice carries over the crowd. “We are not here to fight you. We are here to help. I’ve set up a Mobile Command Center outside Concord City. We’ll treat your wounded. We’ll give you all the supplies you need until Concord City is finally serving the people, instead of a president who sells your children to the highest bidder.”
“When I said the orcs are here to help, I meant it. They’re not the monsters you should fear,” I call out. Pointing at President Highton, I shout, “He is.”
The crowd breaks out in cheers and shouts, calling for the former President to be executed. Hopefully, he’ll be whipped first.
“What should we do with him?” my father asks.
“You don’t get to decide what happens to me!” President Highton snaps, groaning when my father twists his arm again. “We have laws! I’m supposed to get a fair trial!”
I look out at the crowd then back at him. “I don’t think these people will be following your laws anymore, Highton. You’ve spent your presidency choosing our futures. I think it’s only fair that they get to choose yours.”
I nod to my father and King Lix’tuk. My father releases President Highton and King Lix’tuk grabs the president by the back of the neck, tossing him down the marble steps. He hits a few of them but catches himself before he faceplants into the ground. He scrambles to his feet and tries to run, but a protester kicks his feet out from under him.
“Hang him!” someone shouts.
“Whip him first! That’s what they did to us!” another voice yells out.
The words tear through the crowd, sharper and louder with every voice that joins in. “Whip him! Hang him! Whip him! Hang him! Whip him! Hang him!”
President Highton’s face goes pale as the chant grows louder. For the first time, he looks like what he really is. Not a president. Not a symbol. Not a man protected by podiums, soldiers, and laws he only believed in when they served him. Just a man on his knees, surrounded by the people he betrayed. I thought seeing him afraid would feel better. It does. But it also feels dangerous.
“Please!” President Highton screams, desperation cracking his voice. “It’s a trick! The orcs would never treat a human girl this well! That’s not the real Clover! She wasn’t even whipped!”
“A father knows his daughter,” my dad says, putting an arm around me.
“So does a mother,” my mom says, squeezing my hand.
“Hey, President Highton!” I yell, silencing some of the crowd. He turns to look at me, still shouting lies, still clawing for a way to save himself. “They didn’t turn me into a symbol that started a revolution. You did.”
“No! No! You can’t do this!” President Highton screams as the crowd drags him away.
“You could stop this if you wanted,” King Lix’tuk rumbles. “They’ll listen to you.”
“Is it wrong if I don’t want to stop them?” I ask apprehensively. “Does that make me a monster?”
“No,” he growls. “It just makes you human.”
I let out a shaky breath, almost laughing because I don’t know what else to do. “That isn’t very comforting.”
“It shouldn’t be,” he says, his gaze fixed on Highton as the crowd drags him to the twisted steel at the palace entrance. “Humans and orcs have both done terrible things while believing we were owed blood. Sometimes we were. Sometimes we weren’t.”
The former President looks back at me, eyes wide and pleading. For one terrible second, I see myself on the auction stage. Terrified. Powerless. Waiting for someone else to decide what would happen to me.
“He deserves what he gets,” my father says, patting my shoulder.
“I agree,” my mother says, squeezing my hand harder. “This won’t end if he’s sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial.”
As much as I hate it, my parents are right. This revolution was sparked by a symbol, and it needs another one if it’s going to end.
I watch as President Highton is tied to the jagged steel, kicking and screaming until his legs are secured with rope. Then he just screams as the angry protestors tear off his clothes, whipscracking as soon as bare flesh is exposed. I have to look away, but the sounds of justice split the air until his screams die out.
I don’t shed any tears when the noose goes around President Highton’s neck. Nor do I shed any when he’s hoisted, no longer kicking and screaming, until he’s hanging from the twisted remains of the gates he tried to hide behind.
I wince and look away once he goes limp. The crowd cheers, but I don’t. Neither do my parents or King Lix’tuk.
I thought justice would feel like an ending. It doesn’t. It feels like standing in the ashes, trying to decide what should be rebuilt first.
“The revolution is over,” King Lix’tuk declares in a loud voice. “Now the real work begins.”
