The Iwrata trivi’s hopeful end faded away as Midir stepped onto the stage, smiling, confident. He raised his hands, and the room quieted, expectant. Lapis glanced around; all eyes focused on the man who would lead Jilvayna into a new day.
“For those of you who may not know, I’m Krios,” he began, to a trickle of laughter. “Today never would have happened without your hard work and dedication. Every one of you who manned the event, who managed the crowds, who provided help in one way or another, I’m grateful.
“I thank the rats who watched the tech speakers and the ones who brought word of trouble to the guards.” He motioned to each in turn as he paced across the stage. “I thank Granna Cup, Emmer Farmer and Lord Adrastos for their aid in the planning, setting up, and running of the stages. Without their efforts, none of this would have been possible. I thank the distant partners who manned stages in their communities so that our message reached all the people of Jilvayna.
“I thank the Minq and the Rams, for without Jo Ban, Shara and Double Catch, we wouldn’t have had the guards to ensure safety. I thank every voice who rose in support of the Wolf, showing that hope and a better future are on the horizon.
“Today was a success. People listened. That, in many respects, is the most difficult part of doing something new. People have their own hopes and cynicisms, and breaking through those so they absorb the words rather than disregard them is paramount.” His gaze settled on her, and Lapis’s tummy clenched in worried dread. “I thank Melanthe for paving that road. Her story was the stark reminder of what we’ve lost, and her presence is an even starker hope that, despite the adversities, we will triumph in the end.”
She froze, and eyes drifted to her. Patch’s hand on her leg knocked her from the shock. Had her speech meant that much? She still thought of it as a mistake, not a success. Everyone had fallen so quiet, so tense . . .
Midir placed a hand on his chest. “I miss her parents,” he said, melancholy infusing each word. “Phaeton and Iolanthe were my cherished friends, and I still mourn them. In many ways, I hoped, but never believed, I could bring to fruition what they and their family gave their lives for. I looked at my godson Faelan and saw his father, and desperately wanted to make a world in which he would never have to fear the executioner’s gallows. I looked at my wife Elysia and my children, Iole and Phaeton, and desperately wanted to create an environment in which terror did not plague their steps. I looked at my bodyguard and dear friend, Varr, and saw a man willing to sacrifice everything to keep me and my family safe, and I pondered why he gave up so much for a dream I doubted.
“He wasn’t the only one. The Wolf Collaborate rebellions sacrificed everything to succeed. Jarosa, especially, but leaders like Carnival in Shaloar and Azzo in Abastion fought to undermine the empire and its dark influence. I’d like to pause and think of the rebels in other countries who fight on battlefields at this moment, fierce in their conviction to evict the Dentherions and follow our footsteps into creating the Wolf anew.”
Lapis doubted the non-existent gods gave a damn about any prayers, but she still wanted Stars’ Luck to follow Jarosa and Carnival. She had met some of the other rebel leaders, knew names if not faces, and hoped they could rally their people and overcome Dentheria. Unlike Jilvayna, they did not have convenient skyshroud crashes to obliterate their puppet kings. They had to fight.
Many would die, to throw off the shackles of empire.
She closed her eyes. No, she would not lose Jarosa and Carnival now, not when the end to Dentherion rule was a fingertip away. They would live. They would join the Wolf and plague Midir until a natural death claimed them.
Lips pressed against her head, and she looked at Patch; he wiped her cheek with the back of his fingers, his eye soft, sad. “Jarosa’s too stubborn to die, and Carnival’s tricky enough to evade a hit,” he whispered. “Don’t mourn what hasn’t happened yet.”
She wanted to believe that; he sounded as if he did. Setting her head on his shoulder, she willed her dark thoughts to look to the dawn’s light rather than the deepest midnight. Gall was dead, and regrets, anxiety, would serve no one. Midir needed her hopeful rather than so cynical with emotional sludge, it might dissuade those who would otherwise follow him and his vision. She needed to sink her fingers into optimism, because everyone, from the rats to the grandest lord, would turn away if no beacon shone bright for them.
She was that unwitting beacon now. Lucky her.
Cassa caught her eye and smiled, sad, understanding, but Dagby’s overt empathy struck her harder. He lost his past life, but instead of mourning, he strode towards another one, each step as eager as the last.
So did the other Jiy rebels. Life under Baldur had been a disaster, but Brander, Sherridan, the few others who survived the break, they stared at Midir as if their world coalesced into one shining promise held within him. They had vowed to bring him to the throne, and she hoped his vision of the Wolf gave them even more to support.
“Thank you,” Midir said quietly. “Keep rebels and those fighting with them in your thoughts until Dentheria is driven back into her home. As we think of our old allies, also keep in mind our new. I never would have dreamed the khentauree found in picture book stories were living beings now taking a step into a foreign world with Ghost in the lead. I never would have expected that terrons still lived within the Ambercaast mines, or that they, under the guidance of Nathala, wished to discard the heavy hand of the empire choking us. They are two of the many peoples I hope to bring under the banner of the Wolf.”
He stopped pacing and faced the audience. “Together, forever, as the Wolf. This isn’t my idle pledge. It’s a promise, and with all of us in collaboration, we’ll fulfill it.” He swept his hands to the musicians. “And now, for a far more entertaining act, welcome the men and women who brighten our days and nights with song and dance.”
Everyone applauded, though Lapis did not know whether they clapped for Midir or the musicians. She supposed it did not matter. With a smile, she patted Patch’s leg and headed for the restroom to care for business and wash her face; the gentleman’s club had had working pipes and toilets as it catered to the elite, however disfavored, and she hoped they remained functional.
And when she returned, she would hunt down the moist chocolate cake dripping in thick honey frosting and tekker berry tarts Cassa discovered, and pile a plate high with the goodness. No sense letting Midir’s generosity go to waste when she could do her part in leaving behind nothing but crumbs.
