Chapter 4
Callum
I know from the moment I stroll into the breakfast room that something is wrong, a feeling enforced by the three sad pairs of eyes that turn to me the moment I walk in.
My stomach sinks and I know without even having to ask that the decree has been issued, the Uprising has finally deigned to decide how the next ruler of Avon will be chosen. And it’s not good.
Alex wordlessly hands me the morning edition of Scota’s newspaper, the bold black letters large enough to be seen from across the room.
I take the paper, falling into my chair. My hands automatically go through the motions of pouring tea, adding sugar, stirring in a splash of milk, while my eyes absorb the details.
First Presidential Candidate Qualification Announced: Must Kill Current Monarch
The words of the article below the damning headline blur along with my vision. I never expected anything good from the Uprising, but this, this is low, even for them.
I force my eyes to focus, my mind soaking in the rest of the news like it’s a slow-spreading poison.
Delegates from the Uprising have been meeting since the monarchs’ surrender to come up with a just method of determining the candidates for Avon’s first election, one representing each of the four provinces.
Many ideas were considered, and this morning the Uprising leadership has announced a decision.
In order for a candidate to secure the chance to represent their province in the presidential election, that candidate must assassinate the current monarchial ruler of their province.
“For hundreds of years, the monarchs of Avon have suppressed, degraded, murdered, and stolen from their citizens. They have oppressed the Gifted and put the needs of the wealthy over the needs of the majority. Now is the time for atonement to begin,” said a member of the Uprising who wished to remain anonymous.
Though this decree may seem to be stoking the flames of violence—a position in direct opposition to the Uprising’s call for peace among Avon—there are strict guidelines in place.
The killings must take place within a specified time period to be announced.
Each province will have their own designated period.
And only the reigning monarchs are to be targeted.
“There must be no violence struck upon innocents,” claimed our source.
I toss the paper across the table, not caring where it lands. The silence hangs in the air, heavy with unsaid words.
“I won’t do it.” I break first, needing all of them to know in no uncertain terms how I will not be a party to this ridiculous plan.
“You must.” The declaration comes from my father, as I expected it would.
I search for a sign of his anger, for surely he must be furious at this so-called decree, but his face remains smooth and calm, like his death warrant hasn’t just been signed by a group of upstarts playing pretend at how to rule a country.
“This is not the way to begin an election that is supposed to signal a time of peace, of fostering unity and equality.” I force myself to focus on the logical, tangible reasons why I cannot possibly go through with this plan.
“This goes against everything we’re supposed to be striving for in this newly united Avon.
I certainly never trusted the Uprising, but they have been preaching peace for two years, all the while killing innocent people. ”
“You cannot deny that the monarchs have done the same thing, Callum,” Alex says quietly.
“That might be true of the others, but not us.” I loop my fingers through the handle of my teacup, because I need something to hold on to so I don’t run out the front door and directly to Uprising headquarters to handle this injustice in the only way they seem to understand.
“I’ve said from the beginning that allowing the Gifted any sort of privileges would only lead to more violence, and here they are, proving me correct from their very first decree. ”
Alex doesn’t meet my anger with his own, which only irritates me further. “This is not about the Gifted. This is about the new government setting the tone for how they want to rule this country.”
“With violence and bloodshed.”
“With reparations.”
“So you are satisfied with this decision, then?” I aim anger at him because it’s easier than dealing with any of the other emotions roiling through me.
The grief, the fear, and buried deep within me, the slowly building dread.
Though I will do everything in my power to find another way.
Any other way. One parent was already stolen from me by the Gifted; I refuse to let the other fall by my own hand.
Alex’s eyes flit toward my father but dart right back to me. “I am not happy, and I will mourn the loss of James like I mourned my own sister, but I understand why they made this decision. It isn’t just about you, or the Reids, or even Scota. It’s about what’s best for Avon.”
“Killing people is what’s best for Avon?”
Dom, sitting to my right, places a calming hand on my forearm. “You can’t really blame people for wanting some kind of vengeance, Cal.”
“It’s unfortunate that Scota must be lumped in with the others.” Alex offers this tiny bit of compromise. “But in the rest of the provinces, this decree will not be seen as unjust. Or unwelcome.”
I tighten my grip on the handle of my cup and turn my attention to the one person who should be on my side. “And you have no thoughts on the matter?”
My father turns his weary eyes to me. His face bears the marks of a lifetime of service, and it strikes me for the first time how old he has grown, how tired he looks. His hair is now more gray than red; we no longer share that defining attribute. “I have only one thought on the matter.”
“I won’t do it.”
His fists clench, the only outward sign of emotion he shows. “Then you are a fool and a coward, and not the man I thought you were.”
Dom sucks in an audible gasp.
The handle of my teacup snaps in my hand, the rough edge digging into my palm, a stinging sensation letting me know I should let go before drawing blood, but I can’t seem to force my fingers to uncurl.
I push my chair back from the table. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment.”
Tossing the broken shard of porcelain into the fireplace, I push out of the breakfast room and head directly for the front door.
Dom catches up to me as I head for the stables, running to keep up with my angry strides. “He didn’t mean that, Cal.”
“We both know he absolutely did.”
For my entire life, I have admired my father. That admiration has only grown as I’ve gotten older. I’ve seen other fathers lie and plot, seen other sons betray and backstab, and I’ve always been grateful that our relationship would never have to suffer any of those indignities.
Life hasn’t thrown us Reids many setbacks, at least not since the loss of Mother, and while I’ve been grateful, I never realized how it might have colored our relationship, this ease with which we’ve been able to make decisions in the past. We don’t know how to disagree with each other, and now, with the stakes so high, is not the time to try to learn.
I stop short, before reaching the stables at the edge of our property, letting a small copse of trees shield me from spying eyes back at the estate.
Dom gives me the silence I need to process my thoughts, plopping down in the shade, her back resting against a large oak.
“It’s not just that I don’t want to do it,” I finally admit as my brain shifts through the anger, allowing other emotions to rise to the surface.
“It’s more that I don’t think I can, Dom.
I can see the logical points. If I don’t do it, someone else will.
Father has lived a long and prosperous life and he would love nothing more than to pass on to the next in an act of sacrifice for Scota.
” So many things make sense on paper, but the truth of them stifles the breath in my chest.
“But?”
I sigh, sliding down next to her, preparing myself to reveal this weakness I don’t think I could voice to anyone other than my sister.
“But I don’t think I could live with myself.
I think the guilt would eat me alive.” The back of my head hits the trunk of the tree, unfortunately not hard enough to knock some sense into me.
“What is there to feel guilty about if you are doing what Father wishes?”
“I’d still be taking his life, Dom. Only for a mere chance at being elected.
There’s no guarantee I would even win.” I run a hand through my hair.
“And what if I went through all of that, actually went through with killing our father, only for the act of it to drive me so mad with grief and guilt I couldn’t function as a ruler anyway?
I don’t know if I have the strength.” I let my eyes fall closed, as if that could block out my thoughts. “It isn’t worth the risk.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
I turn my head to face my impertinent sister. “How can you ask that?”
“How can you not?” She studies me with her piercing blue eyes, looking so much like our mother that it chokes the breath out of my lungs. “Living a cautious life won’t protect you, Cal. And living a risky life didn’t kill her.”
“Except it did.”
Our mother was vivacious. Full of life, always ready to try something new and go for what she wanted. Many times her risks paid off, like when she pursued our father despite him being the next king and her being the daughter of a farmer, until that final time when it didn’t.
“You know, you would make a strong leader yourself, Dom. Look at how your soldiers respect you, follow you. You would have no problem getting elected and whipping Avon into shape.”
“I know I could have a head for politics if I really worked at it, but I don’t have the heart for it, you and I both know that.
” She pulls her eyes from mine, directing her attention to the cloudy gray skies above us.
“And even just the thought of…” Her voice drops. “Please don’t ask me to do it, Cal.”
Shame heats my cheeks for even suggesting it.
I can’t stomach the thought of killing my father, so instead I place that burden on my sister?
Father’s insult grows more and more true by the second.
“I would never place that upon your shoulders, Dom. I know what it will do to me and I would never want that for you.”
“If you knew you could do this without the guilt driving you mad, then would you?”
“Of course.” I lie easily.
Dom picks at the grass underneath us, pulling out small tufts and letting them float off into the breeze. “I think I might have a solution.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Something that will make me feel no guilt for murdering our father?”
“Not something. Someone.”
My stomach turns. “Absolutely not, Dom.”
She tosses a fistful of grass in my lap in some kind of childish protest. “Callum, be serious. This is something you have to do. I understand that it might take you some time to accept it, but we both know there is no other choice. And we don’t know when this predetermined period is going to begin.
You need to be ready. And there is someone who can help. ”
“A Gifted?”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Yes, Cal. A Gifted.”
“You know I won’t let them anywhere near me, Dom, and yet you expect me to allow one of them unfettered access to my mind?”
“Lady Caterine—and all of the Gifted at La Puissance I’ve encountered for that matter—is not like that. She has a reputation for helping people.”
“So did the healer that killed our mother.”
Dom sighs again, this time pushing to her feet.
“We both know that’s not what happened. But if you want to allow your stubborn prejudices to color you against a whole group of people you don’t even know, then you are not the man I thought you were.
Maybe Father was right, maybe you really are a coward.
When you’re ready to grow up and accept that there’s more to this world than your limited view of it, come find me.
” She stalks away from me, kicking up clouds of dust in her wake.
I bang my head against the tree, harder this time, trying unsuccessfully to knock some sense into it. I know Dom is only trying to help. Maybe I should give her plan a chance, at least explore the idea. But the thought of putting myself anywhere near La Puissance is enough to make me want to retch.
This is exactly what the Gifted want. They will regain their rights, infiltrate our leadership, divide families. The plan isn’t even fully enacted and yet they are already winning.
I am allowing them to win.
There has to be some way around this, some kind of loophole we can find and exploit. There has to be another solution aside from killing my father and entrusting my mind to a Gifted.
I’m not a coward, but I also refuse to be an idiot.
I know in my heart I can be the kind of leader this country needs.
I can find balance and restore order. Maybe Dom is right and I’m letting my prejudices color my reactions.
And maybe what I really need to do to secure my position is exploit the Gifted the same way they are exploiting me.