Chapter Forty-Seven Imposter
Chapter Forty-Seven
Imposter
Three weeks after her father’s burial, Poppy returned to the same abbey where he’d been laid to rest, to take the oath of office.
Though she had pushed to keep the affair small out of respect for his memory, the entire city had turned out to see the inauguration ceremony.
They pressed against the barricades, nearly spilling onto the roads as they leaned over to wave and cheer.
The sight was fearful and inspirational at once, for the same reason: All of these people expected something from her.
What if she failed them?
She’d tried to quash the thought several times, to no avail. It dogged her, haunting her like a shadow. She couldn’t fail. Not when the entire island had come together for her right to succeed.
Poppy stepped out of the car to raucous cheers.
The guards took charge quickly, hustling her into the abbey, to the front of the pews, where a temporary throne had been installed.
It was symbolic, an echo of the emperor’s throne in Welkland, a reminder that the viceroy was an extension of the emperor, who was an extension of the Founder.
Poppy stood in front of the throne for a long moment, a chill trickling down her spine.
The last man who had sat in that chair was her father. She would sit in his place, but she would not take on the role he had played. She had to pull his legacy apart, brick by brick.
A voice spoke, jolting her from her reverie. “Big crowd, Miss Sutherland. Not even your father had this kind of turnout.”
She turned to see Lord Montrose standing by the front pew, his wife behind him. Richard had left the island three weeks ago, just before her father’s funeral, but the injustice of his so-called punishment still brought a bitter taste to Poppy’s mouth.
“The people believe in me.” She tilted her chin up defiantly. “They’re why I’m here.”
“I hope you live up to their expectations,” he said. “People tend to love an ideal far more than the person behind it. If I were you, I’d take care.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Consider it advice,” he said, “from someone who has been playing the game much longer than you. You are where you are today because of the alliances you forged. But will these people stick by you, especially when you’re forced to make unpopular decisions?
When you bargain with mortals, the terms can change at any time.
Today, you have the faith of the people.
But tomorrow? You may have nothing at all. ”
Leaving that bizarre warning hanging in the air, he turned and made his way to his seat. She stared at his retreating back, his words stuck in her chest like the blade of a dagger.
The ceremony went according to schedule. Poppy sat on the throne, holding a scepter in one hand and the works of the Founder in the other, repeating the oaths that the founderson read to her. When it was over, he took her hand, helping her out of the throne.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I now present to you, Vicereine Poppy Demetria Sutherland the First!”
Polite applause filled the abbey, but it was overshadowed by a loud cheer from outside.
It swept through the open windows like a wave crashing on the sand.
Poppy soared with elation, sailing on its high.
But as Lord Montrose caught her eye, her heart sank.
If she didn’t find someone to teach her how to swim, she would certainly drown in this tide.
· · ·
After the inauguration, the guests were permitted to line up and wish the new vicereine well. Lord Montrose had left immediately, to Poppy’s immense relief. Catherine and Theodore were some of the first in line. She came down off the dais to embrace both of them.
“How does it feel to be officially the vicereine?” Theodore asked.
“I can’t believe this is real,” Poppy said. “The last half year has gone by in such a blur.”
Catherine reached forward to squeeze her hand. “I’m here anytime you want a shoulder to lean on.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That means a lot to me.”
Then the pair were off, making way for the next group in line.
In that manner, she spent the next couple of hours making small talk with every person who approached her, until the line had mostly dwindled.
Names and faces blurred, but some were welcome, friendly faces, such as that of Rohini Devar, who had squeezed her hand and said that the island was blessed indeed.
Finally, a group of Virians reached Poppy.
The founderson consulted his list, reading out the name of their envoy to her.
“The Delegation for Virian Interests.”
She brightened, sitting up straighter as her eyes fell on Hasan.
“Let them come up,” she said, the words worn from an afternoon of repetition.
He introduced her to each member formally.
The group clustered around her for a quick picture, Hasan and Arun flanking her.
When the photographer had finished, Hasan turned back to Poppy.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You pulled it off.”
“We pulled it off. I couldn’t have done it without you,” Poppy said. “All of you,” she added, her gaze touching the faces of the other members.
“Yes, well, we believe in you,” Maya offered.
She flinched involuntarily. Though Maya didn’t realize it, her words reminded Poppy of the conversation she’d had with Lord Montrose before the inauguration had started.
She smoothed out her expression swiftly.
“Is that so?” she asked, keeping her voice level.
Her eyes flickering back and forth between the delegation members, she wondered how she could get them to leave so she could speak to Hasan alone.
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Maya continued, oblivious to the tension she had just created. “I hope we meet soon. We have so much to talk about.”
“Indeed.” Poppy dipped her head, her shoulders still tense. “I look forward to it.”
Hasan and the rest of the delegation turned to leave. Poppy hesitated, then called his name.
“Mr. Devar. A moment, if you would.”
Hasan turned around. The others in the delegation paused, then carried on without him.
She tilted her head at her guards, indicating to them that she wanted a moment’s privacy.
They eyed Hasan warily but heeded her, taking several steps back.
She rose, coming down the steps until she stood on one that was eye level with him.
“You’ve seen me at some low points in my life,” she said wryly, “so I’m not going to mince words.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Go on. I’ll suspend any judgment.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” she confessed, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I know that sounds bad, considering all we went through to get here, but . . .”
He stared at her as though she’d gone mad. “What are you talking about? You already have done it, Poppy. You became vicereine. You defeated Richard. You sent that bastard packing back to the homeland where he’ll be kicking rocks for the next five decades.”
“Don’t get me started on that,” she said, clenching her jaw. “If it were up to me, he’d be placed in front of a firing squad and shot.”
“Someone’s gotten more violent since the last time we met,” Hasan deadpanned. “Though for what it’s worth, I don’t disagree.”
“The last few months have changed me,” she said. “But I need to change faster. Did you see how many people came today? How many Virians?”
“It was impressive.” He grinned. “That’s why the delegation was late. The streets were practically overflowing.”
“All of those people are expecting something from me.” She shook her head, her voice laced with panic. “They support me because they think I’m one of them. But I’m not, Hasan. What will happen to me when they realize that?”
“You are one of us,” he insisted. “You have just as much right to call yourself Virian as everyone else. They can’t take that from you.”
“They can’t take something I never had.” She pressed her lips together in a firm line, holding on to her composure.
“I’m trying, but it’s hard. I was away from Viryana for seven years.
Even when I was here, I had no idea about the depths of my father’s cruelty.
He thought he was doing what was best for the colony, but his bias was a huge blind spot.
I don’t want to become like him, implementing oppressive structures out of ignorance.
I need someone to help me. To explain histories and backgrounds, so that I understand the problems those people want me to solve.
It was their support that got me here, and if I lose it, then this whole thing will crumble.
I want your delegation to formally advise me—especially you. ”
Hasan opened his mouth, then closed it with a sigh. “I have to talk to Arun and the others,” he hedged. “But I don’t see why they would say no.”
“Thank you.” Poppy sighed. “I have something else for you as well.” She beckoned to one of her guards, who approached her with an envelope in hand. Hasan took it from him. “What’s this?”
“My first order as vicereine: an official pardon for Paranjay,” she said. “If you go by the jail tomorrow, the police will release him for you.”
Hasan looked up at her, holding the paper to his chest. “Thank you,” he said, his voice fevered. “I can’t wait to bring him home.”
She inclined her head at him. “That’s all.”
He turned to go, but when he’d taken a few steps away, he turned around. “Poppy,” he called. “You can do this. I believe in you.”
I know, she thought. That’s what scares me most.
When Hasan left, there was only one more person left waiting to speak to Poppy.
She’d sat at the back of the abbey, but with everyone else gone, she rose and came to the front.
Poppy regarded Samina evenly. Most of her injuries had healed since her fight with Richard, though her skin bore fresh new scars where wounds had closed.
Her hair had grown longer, shoulder length now.
Other than that, she looked the same, dressed in a clean cotton salwar kameez, her arms crossed over her chest as she sized Poppy up.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Poppy said. “Hasan wasn’t sure you would, when I asked him to pass along the invite.”
Samina snorted. “At first, I wasn’t planning to. He talked me into it. He said it was an important historical milestone for Viryana whether I liked it or not, and I would be stupid to miss it. But why did you invite me at all?”
Poppy bit her lip. “I wanted to apologize,” she said. “First, for everything that happened. With your mother, with the necklace, with the orphanage—”
“Those things weren’t your fault,” Samina said. “You were a child. I judged you harshly, because I felt life had been soft on you, but really, neither of us had much control over those events.”
“I might not have controlled them, but I’m still the one who caused them,” Poppy insisted.
“And though I was a child, I was an adult at Sanivali when I tried to downplay what had happened to you. I wanted to believe you were better off at the orphanage so that I wouldn’t feel guilty about my father’s sending you there.
For that, I want to apologize. If there is ever anything you need from me, you can always come and ask. ”
“Oh. I wasn’t expecting that,” Samina said, shifting her weight. “I don’t know if I forgive you yet. But I do appreciate the apology.”
“You don’t have to give me your forgiveness,” Poppy said, and was surprised to realize she meant it. “But I hope you’ll let me keep on trying to earn it.”
Samina tilted her head. “We’ll see,” she said. “Fix the island first. Then we can talk.”
· · ·
Zeyar waited until the rest of the delegation had separated from Hasan.
His eyes trailed Harithi, dressed in her best sari, as she walked side by side with the other coleader.
So this is Arun. He was of middling height, average in every way, and yet something about him was distinct, an optimism that shone in a warm aura.
Harithi would eat him alive.
Zeyar got out of the car, strolling up the street to where the delegation was coming his way. Harithi locked eyes with him, stiffening.
She bared her teeth. You wouldn’t dare.
He only smiled back at her. “Mr. Arun,” he said, stopping in front of the other man. “Congratulations on your achievement. I heard the vote was tight.”
Arun dipped his head modestly, but a small divot formed between his brows. “Have we met before?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I read about your delegation in the Viryana Post. I’m curious: What are your objectives, now that you’ve been able to see Poppy Sutherland seated in the vicereine’s office?”
Arun’s expression became guarded. “We’ll have to decide as a delegation. Rest assured, we will advocate for the best interests of the Virians.”
“Naturally,” Zeyar said. “I assume your strategy will be less . . . intense than storming the House of Representatives? I was sad to hear about the casualties of that day. All power comes at the price of blood, so they say.”
As Zeyar had expected, Arun’s smile faded.
Rushing the House of Representatives was so reckless and stupid; he’d known there was only one man who could have led that charge: Hasan.
And if the glower on Harithi’s face was anything to go by, that one action had become a sore spot in the delegation—which was exactly why Zeyar had pressed on it.
Arun regarded him warily. “None of the major newspapers reported the deaths of the protestors.”
Zeyar flicked nonexistent dust off the shoulder of his blazer. “I have more than one way of gathering information, which is why I’m here. I know things about the nobility that may be of interest to you. I’d be happy to share . . . if I were part of the delegation, of course.”
He avoided looking at Harithi as he spoke the last bit, but her gaze seared into him anyway. He could picture her hazel eyes, hot with fury.
“Information such as?” Arun tilted his head, eyeing him with interest.
Zeyar cocked his head to the side, mirroring him. “We’d be here all afternoon if I were to say. Once I join the delegation, we can decide which parts of my knowledge are more advantageous to our objectives.”
Arun glanced back at the other members. Zeyar tracked the way his gaze jumped from face to face, landing on Harithi’s before turning back to him.
“We’ll think about your offer,” he said. “What’s your name?”
He produced a calling card from his pocket, extending it to Arun. “Zephyr Devar.”