Chapter 27 #2
“Idris is going to lose his mind when he sees you,” Savino says quietly, earning a stern look from Maggia telling him to behave.
Leone laughs, clearly agreeing with Savino.
I guess everyone knows about our complicated Fate-bond then …
but then I suppose we were never really trying to keep things secret.
“Right, positions. I want to check how it looks,” Michelle instructs, waving us over to the stage.
“This is what your wedding rehearsal is going to be like, isn’t it?
” I say to Giulia, who smirks at me and gives me a gentle push towards the stage.
As I step into the cascading white light, the dress explodes with colour.
The spray of the rainbow coats everything, shining and glowing like the heavens themselves.
The jewels dangling around me clatter and swing gently as I walk, back straight, towards my seat in the centre.
On my left sits Savino, then Maggia. On my right is Idris’s empty chair, then Leone.
At the ends are the empty chairs – the ones that once belonged to Bellandi and Ulrico.
In their stead, Michelle has placed swords, sitting on a river of white silk that flows over the centre of each chair, their tips down and gleaming golden.
“Okay, and take your seat here,” Michelle says, gesturing to my seat. I step towards my chair, a place I haven’t sat in months. A home I haven’t felt worthy of sitting in, a place I was scared I would never fill again.
I turn and sit down, the dress quietly clinking with my movements. Okay, it certainly isn’t the most comfortable, even with the extra gold cushions Michelle has put on the seats, but I can’t deny its utter beauty; the rainbow sprayed around me like Fate manifest.
Noise starts to grow from outside. Cheering perhaps. Bold.
“Okay, here we go!” Michelle shouts, clapping her hands. “Everyone in their places!”
The chamber falls quiet as people get about their work.
The City Guards snap to attention, standing tall and proud.
The artists and scribes fall silent as they work.
I look to my left, seeing Maggia and Savino nodding at me with smiles, sitting tall.
I look right, and share the same look with Leone.
I sit taller in my chair, shoulders back, arms sitting on the rests patiently as I look ahead to the wide-open doors at the other end of the aisle.
Outside, the crowd’s volume grows and grows. Voices ring out, united and chanting one word over and over.
Halice. Halice. Halice.
Halice!
HALICE!
HALICE!
HALICE!
The Halician people are cheering. The division that once stalked this city seems to have evaporated in the presence of our true enemy. The people are banding together to send a blindingly clear and united message to this diplomat. We stand together. We will fight. We are not afraid.
Itching spreads across my neck. My breath blisters in my lungs. My pulse grates against my veins like sandpaper.
Idris walks into the High Chamber and my heart almost stops. He’s dressed in an exquisite white tunic, trimmed with gold and adorned with gold and white glass pins. His blond hair gleams with all the power of the sun itself.
But this isn’t about Idris, this is about the small party walking in behind him.
Four men dressed in tight black tunics with ruffled white cuffs and tight black trousers.
The height of Holy States formal fashion, and entirely out of place in our colourful, flowing Halician city.
Their eyes are wide; their faces look drained.
Each of them sets eyes on me and falters in their steps.
I keep my face a serene mask, displaying absolutely nothing, refusing to break eye contact with the one who is clearly the leader as he walks at the front of their diamond formation.
Idris strides straight up the aisle, each step thudding in my ears like an echo.
These men follow behind, eyes skittering around the room as the people’s voices still ring out from outside.
The guards step forwards to stop the visitors moving any further when they get to the gate.
Idris keeps walking closer, taking his seat to my right.
We sit there, looking down on the diplomat without moving.
Without speaking, as the voices of Halice crash and swirl around us, melting with the ethereal colour of the High Chamber.
That’s when the heavy doors, manned by four guards, are pushed closed with a loud thud that rings across the room.
The voices of the people outside can still be heard, but muffled and quieter.
I sit, not moving a muscle. This is a game of power, and the first to speak loses.
The diplomat looks behind him at his party as though for confidence before producing a rolled-up document and holding it high.
“I’ve come today to speak with you, Maestrus of Halice, to beseech you to see reason.
The Holy Armies have gathered on your borders, a force of justice you can’t hope to repel.
In the name of the Holy Office, surrender your tyrannical rule of this city so the peace and grace of Fate may flow freely here once more. ”
He holds his scroll high and I let his words linger.
I let them fall away, allowing the silence to eat and eat at them until their frailty and ridiculousness is obvious even to the youngest of children.
The diplomat swallows nervously, his hand twitching as he slowly lowers his arms and shifts his weight unhappily.