Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

The councilmembers who departed from the delegation arrive in San-Er before His Majesty does. They were sent back when King August and his guards ventured forward to encounter what might evolve into a battle within the borderlands; he said that if it was no longer a delegation, then it wasn’t safe for diplomatic representatives to be present. It was difficult to argue against this point—though some councilmembers, like Mugo, tried, claiming that the council needed to be present to verify whether the crown was true. August promised that was something to be done in the capital, and if they moved forward together, the council would only slow him down. He would bring back the crown. They needed to trust him.

So Venus Hailira returns with the rest of the council.

She did what she could for Rincun. It doesn’t feel like enough. Through the journey, she ruminated on the sequence of events: her arrival declaring a province-wide lockdown, the few days when it seemed she’d achieved her task, the sudden freeze… and then everything thrown out the window. A cavity opens in her chest, blows dirt into her lungs. She takes a deep breath, and the week’s events lodge in her throat, unable to be swallowed or digested. She ought to cough it out. She can’t quite bear to.

When the delegation approaches the gates, Venus is jarred for a second. She forgot that they were expanding San-Er’s wall. It is almost finished, and she recalls what King August announced, what was cleared when the council met to discuss the administrative work. If her perception is accurate, it would appear that the wall has gone much deeper into Eigi than initially planned. Mugo won’t be happy about that. Neither will the rural dwellers who make a habit of camping outside the wall to wait for lottery selections, unless the new, expanded San-Er opens up spaces for them, and Venus doubts they’ll let that many more in.

She peers out the carriage window. Taps her fingers on her knees, restless.

Instead, the dwellers outside the wall will be asked to relocate— kindly pick up your tent, sir, before we do it for you —and they will continue camping in hopes that maybe, maybe the next draw will be successful, ad infinitum until the palace guards do their rounds outside the wall to ensure order and find new dead bodies every week.

It’s the way things are. Nothing to be done about it.

Venus holds her hands together primly. One of the migrants camped outside the wall pokes their head out from their tent and makes direct eye contact with Venus through the carriage window. The carriage starts to move.

“Maybe we should give them something,” Venus finds herself saying aloud. “Food. Blankets.”

In the seat opposite, Councilmember Farua leans forward, peering out the window too. She must be used to these sights while governing Daol Province. Venus, meanwhile, was raised in the cities, and had barely made a full trip outside the wall before she was handed Rincun’s jurisdiction.

“That’s a great idea,” Farua adds. “King August will be glad to hear that.”

The carriage passes through San’s gate. Venus still can’t quite get over the feeling that she’s sitting on nails and wires, shifting in her seat without getting comfortable. She can’t see the tents anymore, but she remembers her first trip to Rincun and Princess Calla Tuoleimi rolling her eyes each time Venus said something about offering blankets.

Don’t be such an aristocrat, Venus chided then.

That is what I am, after all, Calla said. They don’t like us. Let them have it rather than trying to feign generosity.

The gates to San-Er close after them. Afternoon light suctions into gray dreariness, blocked by the tall, looming wall.

If you were truly generous, you would open the Hailira vault for them instead of giving bits and pieces.

Venus isn’t sure why she’s thinking about this now. The carriage stops, parking itself inside San-Er’s wall, and Calla’s words echo and echo and echo.

Say you won’t. You’re allowed.

A piercing scream tears through the air outside.

The sound doesn’t register for a long moment. Venus sits there dumbfounded, unmoving even while the other councilmembers scramble up, scramble to the door, shove it open, run out. The ground trembles. Something that could be firecrackers bursts in the distance. The scream is coming from one of the other carriages.

Venus finally hauls herself to her feet. Her knees are weak. Farua is yelling at her to hurry and move, but when she finds that Venus isn’t listening, she moves on, disappearing from view.

What is happening?

The carriage jolts. Just as Venus finally emerges, the vehicle tips over entirely and skids across the grass. Venus gasps, tripping over her ankles into the mud. There are miles of ground between the wall and the city now. The remnants of the construction remain: cinder blocks and long metal poles, stepladders and machines used to chop stone. When San-Er reorders its budget, it’ll spread new buildings into this space. Maybe take off sections of existing levels elsewhere and move them wholesale.

On the other side of the carriage, the guards are fighting three men clothed in black. Venus picks herself off the ground and tries to hobble to safety. One carriage is still standing. Maybe if she hides in there, she’ll be fine until palace reinforcements arrive. Most of the councilmembers have fled. The screaming has stopped. It doesn’t seem like there is anyone harmed—

Venus clamps a hand over her mouth as soon as she opens the remaining carriage’s door, stifling her gasp. Councilmember Rehanou has… exploded. As though there were some balloon of pressure in his chest that burst, flaying his skin and pushing his ribs outward, ribbons of flesh splattering the carriage walls. Though he isn’t moving, his blood continues pumping, leaking through the protruding veins in every direction.

Venus inches closer. She shouldn’t. She should run fast before vomit surges up her throat and sprays everywhere, yet something about this scene doesn’t look right outside of its grotesque picture. Perhaps it is the angle at which she’s gazing at Councilmember Rehanou. It could be a trick of the light causing something so incomprehensible.

She draws close enough to step on a chunk of something—maybe his stomach, maybe his guts—and she knows that she’s not mistaken. Whatever caused this has carved a crescent shape into the gore of his chest.

Venus has to back away, her hand moving to press her nostrils down. This wasn’t a weapon implanted in him, instructed to explode. This was a manipulation of qi.

The carriage shudders. Venus spins around, gasping. She’s too slow; she’s been cornered. There are new people on the scene, dressed the same as the men in combat with the guards across the grass. One woman in a ponytail, one man with a buzz cut.

“I know we only planned to handle one, but another can’t hurt.”

Venus throws her arms up, gesturing surrender. “No, please,” she says. “There is no need. His Majesty is returning with the crown. He will prove himself.”

“We’re aware, Councilmember,” the man says. He lifts his hand. Pain explodes behind Venus’s eyes, like her brain is being squeezed, squeezed. Within seconds her head is going to look like Rehanou’s exploded guts inside the carriage.

“Please, please, wait!” Venus gasps. “What do you want? Tell me what you want!”

“Enough—”

“If not the crown proving heaven’s mandate, then what?” she yells. When she was sworn in, the palace taught her that distraction is the prime tactic to use against rural attacks. That, since the Makusas died in Kelitu, they have had to train their councilmembers to know to distract until the guards can arrive. Venus doubts that the guards will come to her rescue here in time. This isn’t purely a distraction. She needs to understand what is happening. She needs to know—

“Freedom, Venus Hailira,” the woman replies. “That cannot be hard to understand, can it?”

Her vision turns red.

“I’ll help you!” Venus screams.

Suddenly, the squeezing sensation in her skull dissipates. She teeters, skids to her knees. Dizziness threatens her stomach. She fights against the vertigo.

“I beg your pardon,” the man says lightly.

“Won’t that be easier?” Venus gasps. She touches her eyes. There’s blood leaking through her tear ducts, trailing down her cheeks. But she remains in one piece. Limbs intact. Guts preserved. “Let me live, and I will declare Rincun an independent province.”