Chapter Thirty-Three The Trouble of Virtue
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THE TROUBLE OF VIRTUE
W HEN L YTHLET CAME to, she was resting atop plush, lavish upholstery with gold thread inlaid. A thin white blanket covered her from neck to toe.
The ceiling was stark white, brightened by sunlight coming through a large bay window. A massive chandelier dangled, throwing reflections around spitter-spatter.
Have I been guided by the white wind to the halls of healing? she thought, stunned at the simple majesty of her surroundings. Relief flooded her, knowing that the divine had witnessed her record and found her worthy of a peaceful afterlife.
She creased her brow, and something shifted on her forehead. Her fingers brushed against linen wrapped tightly around her skull. How odd. Do wounds not heal immediately here?
“You’re finally awake.”
Lythlet jumped at the voice, blanket falling to the crimson carpet, a hysteria of pain stampeding through her head. She hissed in agony, clenching her eyes shut, now certain she had been thoroughly mistaken, and was, in fact, in the halls of damnation.
“Don’t strain yourself,” said the voice, and when she finally opened her eyes, she saw Saevem Arthil sitting not too far away, half-hidden behind a grand study desk.
Her mouth ran dry. Where was she? Where was Desil? She looked around, trying to gain her bearings. It was a posh private office and, judging from the massive wedding portrait of Saevem hanging on a wall, it belonged to him.
“Is this your home?”
He nodded. “I brought you here after the health ward discharged you last night.”
“Health ward? Where’s Desil?”
“When we finally caught up with the match-master, he had inadvertently led us to you and Desil. You had just passed out from strangulation, Desil from his wounds. I had the both of you sent to a health ward here in Central immediately. The mercy-workers looked after Desil for a week, then transferred him to Southeast—Chuol Ward, where he’s registered.
Your injuries, on the other hand, required you to remain under their care for nigh a fortnight.
But you’re a surprisingly quick healer, all things considered.
Mind your head in the coming weeks and rest as much as you can.
I also noticed you had nothing on your feet—I’m not sure if someone stole your boots—but I bought you a new pair in case.
They’re by the door. But first, you must be hungry.
I had my house staff prepare a feast for you. ”
Lythlet rested against her seat apprehensively as he rang a bell on his desk.
A reedy fellow soon wheeled in a tray stacked with dishes.
A bowl of thick, creamy pumpkin soup filled with generous chunks of beef and seasoned with curry leaves entered her view.
Her stomach growled pathetically. She nearly drained the bowl in one swallow, then set upon a nearby plate of honeyed roasted chicken, and once her belly began feeling full, she set down her fork.
Her mind reeled with a slaughter of questions.
She finally settled for asking, “What happened to Governor Matheranos?”
Saevem grinned and tossed her way a rolled-up edition of the Daily Diamond . She unfurled it to read the massive headline blazoned across the front page: GOVERNOR CONVICTED OF CORRUPTION!
Numerous subheadings competed for Lythlet’s attention: COURT BLASTS GOVERNOR: “NATIONAL DISGRACE”; THE EZA’S REIGN OF CARNAGE AND CHAOS; COURT CONFIRMS EARLY ELECTION TO BE CALLED; brANDOLAS A SHOO-IN, EARLY POLLING SHOWS; CORIO SAYS NEXT ELECTION “LAST CHANCE TO REFORM SETGAD.”
“Absolutely brilliant,” Saevem crowed. “This is but a taste of the excitement of the press these days. Every single day, a brand-new revelation comes out, exposing each and every one of the Eza’s monstrous crimes over the decades.
Graft, murder, child sex trafficking—it’s all over the news, and the whole city has been stirred into demanding justice.
Matheranos has been dethroned, shamed, and the city—nay, the whole world west of the Palisades—knows of his deeds.
The public has turned against him, to say the least, and the Einveldi Court has never had to work harder to keep things calm. His execution is to be scheduled soon.”
She raised her head from the gazette to meet his eyes. “Was Madam Kovetti and her brothel implicated in his crimes?”
“Her monstrous den has been shut down,” Saevem assured with utmost solemnity. “Kovetti herself is being prosecuted for a great many things, and the Einveldi Court has judged her crimes heinous to the degree she will be granted no leniency even for her testimony against the governor.”
“And what of the children?”
He softened. “They’re being cared for by good folk now, thankfully. Whether they will ever know peace in their hearts remains to be seen, but at the very least, they will be kept safe from now on.”
Lythlet heaved a deep breath, drawing the rites of mercy and divine intervention in the air, praying for those little souls.
He smiled at her. “And it’s all thanks to you.
The moment you encountered the Eza, Corio and I ran to Judge Eridicea and convinced her we had to raid the arena then.
She graciously granted us her personal guardsmen and the swiftest destriers of her stable.
We charged down here like our lives depended on it, and caught the governor neatly tied up like a package for us to retrieve.
The Coalition owes its gratitude to you and Desil. ”
He bowed to her.
She had piled a generous heap of sauté potatoes onto her fork, but she set it down silently. “You’re welcome,” she said awkwardly.
“Having said that, I must inform you that your names have been kept off the record,” Saevem said.
“No one will know what you and Desil have done. The Eza may be destroyed, but the underworld has not been completely dismantled. We decided for the sake of your safety from any parties seeking revenge, a complete expungement of your involvement would be wise. Judge Eridicea agreed with us. You may find yourself blessed with silent protection henceforth, at least until the dust has settled.”
She nodded quietly.
“Is something bothering you?” he said tentatively as she remained silent.
“I was forced into forfeiting the match,” she said quietly.
It had only been a fortnight ago, yet memories of her final match flitted through her weary mind like dragonflies in autumn, hard to catch and pin down.
Ripping the pendant off her neck, smashing it on the ground, smoke wreathing her as she announced her decision to the arena—a decision she’d made to spare Desil the agony of confronting his brawling past. A past she now knew he had actually relished.
Her heart sank, weighed down by an alloy of misery and anger.
She raised her head, hope piercing through the fog in her mind. “Could I have the jackpot?”
“It’s been confiscated by the investigation,” Saevem said uncomfortably.
“Oh,” she said, tiredly. What could she ask for? She hadn’t made a financial bargain with the Coalition. They owed her nothing but gratitude.
“The Coalition doesn’t have much in party funds,” Saevem continued, not quite meeting her eyes. “And we spent what little we had for your health ward fees.”
She stared back at him, this highborn fellow sitting in his grand chair in this grand room outfitted with a crystalline chandelier and elaborate woven tapestries she’d never afford in her life.
“I see,” she said flatly.
He coughed.
She looked away, not wanting to belabor this miserable moment. She pointed at the massive portrait she’d noticed earlier. “Your wedding day?”
“The happiest day of my life,” Saevem replied, relaxing.
He stood and went to the portrait, a huge oil painting that spanned nearly the entire wall.
Saevem and his wife were in the center, looking joyous with their hands clasped together.
Matching wedding pendants laced their necks, thin silver chains bearing ornate ring-pendants from which sparkled a violent burst of red gems. Behind them were members of their wedding party, and Lythlet startled at those standing behind Saevem.
“Corio Brandolas,” she murmured, recognizing that startlingly handsome, flaxen-haired fellow who was now guaranteed governorship. “He was in your wedding party.”
“We go back a long time, as I mentioned before.”
“He must be very busy now.”
“Indeed! Between dealing with Matheranos’s trial and preparing for the upcoming election, he’s barely had any time to meet even me.”
“I wonder what his first act as governor will be.” Will the city really improve under his governorship?
“To unban his book, maybe.” Saevem’s laughter faltered as Lythlet stared at him. He cleared his throat. “Of course, the Coalition has many plans to reform the unfair policies Matheranos implemented during his terms.”
“Good,” Lythlet answered hollowly.
He turned back to the portrait and waved a hand over the man besides Corio, a dark-haired man with a strong brow and a gentle smile.
“That’s Azuran Telehir, rest his soul.” He sighed wistfully up at the portrait.
“How things have changed. He’d be proud to see us as we are now.
We’ve done justice to his name, at long last.”
“I suppose I won’t ever see you again after this,” said Lythlet thoughtfully, pushing away the tray of now-empty dishes. “You’ll be busy helping Corio Brandolas with his governorship.”
“Perhaps. But the world has strange ways of making paths cross.” He smiled at her. “If you wish to rest a little longer, you may.”
“I think it’s time I left.” She gently eased herself off the settee.
He nodded, guiding her to the front door and swinging it wide open to reveal a posh neighborhood. “Take care of yourself while you’re on the mend. I trust you know how to make your way home from here. Desil must be waiting for you.”