Chapter Forty-Five The People’s Vote
Chapter Forty-Five
The People’s Vote
The House of Representatives reeked of gasoline.
When Poppy had asked about it, staff had told her that vandals had done it some time ago.
They had tried to shampoo the carpets, and mopped the floors a hundred times, but the pungent odor lingered.
It made Poppy’s head ache even more than it already did.
Today, she would find out if all her efforts and sacrifice would be recognized.
The outcome of the vote would be a clear message on what mattered more to the Council: the viceroy’s last wishes or their personal prejudices.
She wished she could believe that they would vote on whether or not they believed in her ability to govern, but she knew by now that the only thing they were voting for was their own agenda.
The pressure had built in her skull like a bomb, and she doubted if she’d even survive to see the outcome.
The representatives arrived slowly, many of them delayed by the crowd outside.
Thousands of Virians of all genders and age groups had shown up this morning outside the House of Representatives, their sweaty bodies crushed against the makeshift barriers the Marnapur police had set up.
They had cheered when Poppy had stepped out of the car, an overwhelming show of support so loud she had felt disoriented.
As more and more representatives arrived, the seats in the House began to fill up: a hundred chairs upholstered in green leather, with four extra ones at the apex of the curve upholstered in red, intended for the Council of Lords.
Poppy had been given a makeshift seat in the center of the U-bend, where all could see her.
The chair was hard and uncomfortable, but she refused to squirm.
Instead, she smoothed out the folds in her black mourning gown, running through the Hawk’s checklist for proper presentation: hair bound—check, skirt straight—check, back straight—check, ankles crossed—check.
When all the members had taken their seats, Lord Colwick rose and cleared his throat.
“The House is now in session,” he said. “Today we are debating and voting on a special topic: the succession of the next viceroy. Members will be given two minutes to speak. If a question is asked, then the respondent may only take two minutes to provide an answer. Who will start?”
Gerald Alderfort rose. “Good morning, gentlemen. My first question is for Miss Sutherland. Miss Sutherland, are you aware that succession laws stipulate that only a male can inherit the office?”
Poppy relaxed a fraction; she’d prepared for this.
“While we’ve always interpreted the law this way, the actual wording of succession laws does not specify anything about gender.
It stipulates that once the viceroy passes away, the seat must be given to the—and I quote—‘designated heir.’ My father frequently referred to me as his heir, even in public. ”
“That may be so, but the legal definition of heir refers to a male,” Alderfort said.
“If I may intervene.” Theodore rose from his side of the room. “That definition was written when women couldn’t own land. Men had to inherit property, because no one else could.”
“So now that women can legally own land, would fathers be able to name them as heirs?” Poppy asked pointedly.
“Absolutely,” Theodore said. “And I would ask the House and Council to bear in mind that not only could the late duke name his daughter his legal heir, but he has. There is a signed document in which he wills not only half his funds and the entirety of his land to his daughter, but his office as well.”
“That’s preposterous,” Lord Whitecliff spluttered. “He would have never done that.”
“But he did. And why wouldn’t he?” Poppy asked. “Is it so hard to believe my father thought me suitable? He publicly maintained from the very first day of my adoption that I have every right and opportunity as a trueborn daughter of his.”
She made direct eye contact with Lord Whitecliff, then with each of the other lords. Their lowered eyes were an answer in themselves. Finally, Whitecliff said, “You have no training.”
She raised one eyebrow. “What training are you referring to, my lord? I can read, let me assure you, and I am quite fast at sums.”
“There’s more to it than that,” he said. “A viceroy must be educated.”
Ice formed in Poppy’s stomach, hard and cold. “Are you implying that I am without an education? In case you’ve not noticed, I spent the last seven years getting educated, at one of the most prestigious institutions for ladies in Welkland, no less.”
“What about leadership?” Lord Alderfort asked. “You may have all the hard skills required, but do you have the prerequisite soft skills?”
“I’m sure my father, who inherited this role at only twenty himself, had minimal leadership experience as well.
Just as he relied on his council, I trust that mine will work with me on matters of importance.
” She managed a smile. So far, this meeting was going as she’d expected: There was pushback, but nothing she was incapable of rebutting.
Every protest so far had been something that she and Theodore had predicted and prepared for.
“We should still explore our other options,” Lord Alderfort said. “My son is the eldest of the heirs, and the most experienced thus far. He would make the best viceroy.”
Poppy tensed. “There—”
“Your son hasn’t worked a day in his life,” Whitecliff said, talking over her. “Andrew has completed not one, but two degrees. He has the necessary intellect and work ethic.”
“A scholar does not a leader make.” Colwick shook his head. “My boy, Edward, is still young and energetic. His Grace inherited early, and we saw how successful he was.”
“There are no other options,” Poppy shouted, capturing their attention again. She rose to her feet, curling her fingers into fists. “I am Clarence Sutherland’s legal heir. He named me in his will, and so I will be vicereine.”
“Miss Sutherland, be reasonable,” Whitecliff said. “You are a woman, and unlike any viceroy this entire country has seen before. Who will follow you?”
Poppy turned to look at the other representatives, searching out the faces of the men from the Second Families whom she had met with.
“I daresay there are several here who would follow me,” she said.
“Others who, like me, have been robbed of opportunities in order to placate those higher up. Others who were denied the chance to become anything more than their birth, despite the Founder’s edict that all can become equal.
“But the people here are not the only people who matter. There are hundreds of thousands of people outside these walls who are not opposed to following me. Don’t pretend you haven’t seen them, the way they gather in the streets rallying for me.
They want a Virian viceroy. Will you risk mutiny?
Those are your workers, your servants, your farmers.
No amount of formal education or leadership experience can make up for the loyalty of the people.
You are in the minority, and you would do well to remember it.
Will anyone follow Edward? James? Andrew? ”
Poppy’s question hung in the air. Though her nerves had stretched to their breaking point, she forced herself to make eye contact with each patriarch as she said their heir’s name.
Each of them looked uncomfortable, save for Lord Montrose, whom she had already dealt with.
Lord Alderfort glared at Poppy, his open display of hatred clearly meant to be unsettling.
Instead, it lifted a weight from her shoulders.
He was angry because it was the truth. She had made a point that no one could rebut, and they knew it.
Lord Colwick rose to his feet. “Let us vote on the motion to confirm Poppy Sutherland as the successor to the office of the viceroy,” he said.
“If she can secure the majority of votes among representatives, the Council will then vote among themselves. She will need the votes of three lords. Should she secure those, she will be vicereine, pending royal assent, of course.”
Poppy bit her cheek. She had gained Lord Montrose’s cooperation, which would likely be enough to sway at least one other lord. But could his vote influence two others?
“If the majority rejects Miss Sutherland, where do we go from there?” one of the representatives called.
Colwick paused. “Though unprecedented in Viryana’s history, the law says that it would fall to the lords to identify and interview the next set of eligible candidates.”
“So your own sons, then,” Theodore scoffed, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear.
Lord Colwick didn’t acknowledge the jibe. “When the clerk calls your name, rise and say aye or nay. If your response is aye, remain standing so that we can do the final tally.”
The House clerk rose, calling names off the list in front of him.
“Mr. James Alderfort?”
“Nay.”
Though Poppy had expected that, the word struck her like a stone anyway. It felt like a bad omen to start the voting on a negative note.
“Mr. Ian Bluefinch?”
“Nay.”
In that manner, the clerk went around the bend, collecting ayes and nays.
Soon he’d made it almost halfway through the crowd, and the number of nays was overwhelming.
Poppy clenched the black silk of her mourning gown so tight, her knuckles turned white.
She would never get the chance to reverse her father’s legacy. Her father had died for nothing.
Bang.
The House clerk paused. “What was that?” he asked, echoing the question on everyone’s minds.
Bang.
The representatives in front of Poppy craned their necks, staring at the door. She turned, too, looking over her shoulder to see what they were all staring at.
Bang. Bang. The thick, heavy doors to the Central Chamber were trembling, shaking as an unseen force struck them from the other side.
Bang. Bang. Bang. The pounding continued.
Between each strike, shouting came through the walls as well.
Lord Colwick rose unsteadily, but before he could say anything, a deafening crash filled the room as the doors to the chamber flew open.
A crowd of Virians spilled inside, filling the space of the Central Chamber.
Poppy sucked in a gasp as she flew to her feet.
At the head of the group was none other than Hasan Devar, his knuckles bruised and bleeding, his clothes torn and in disarray, his brows drawn fiercely over his burning eyes.
She had not imagined she would ever see him again. She had so many questions: Why was he here, after he and Zeyar had betrayed her? What about his brother?
As the rest of the room dissolved into chaos, his eyes met hers.
His split lip stretched as he gave Poppy a rueful, tentative smile.
Then he shouted over the din, “For too long, you have made decisions without us, the people who are most affected by those same decisions. We demand the right to participate in the selection of our next leader. We’re here to cast our vote for Miss Sutherland, and we won’t leave until each of our voices has been counted. ”
The crowd roared in agreement with his words.
Poppy’s chest and throat swelled with an emotion that lifted her up and rendered her impossibly vulnerable all at once. Hadn’t Hasan told her? Gods, blood, and kings do not decide who rules. The people do.
And the people—her people—had chosen her.
“Everyone get out, now!”
Guards poured in, half of them splitting off to fight the sea of Virians who flooded the chamber, the other half escorting the lords and representatives out. Poppy’s heart raced as one of the guards escorted her out, but fear didn’t drive her pulse—joy did.
Just before the door swung shut behind her, she twisted, peering over the guard’s shoulder to catch one last glimpse of the chaos within, Hasan at its core, teeth bared, fists flying.
She brushed her finger over the thin pink scar on her thumb, a strange warmth in her chest. All this time, she had been so consumed with fighting for the country, she hadn’t dared to dream that the country was willing to fight for her.