“Chancellor Rose and the Representative scum who answer to her have ruled over the Republic of Balance for far too long.” The speaker, a cloaked man who appeared as though he’d stepped straight out of the Four Kingdoms, gripped the wooden pulpit in front of him. “We cannot let this stand any longer!”
The film wobbled as the person recording the speech clapped in time with others before it steadied once more.
From this angle, Nikhail could tell that the speaker stood in front of a gathered assembly, but he couldn’t make out any faces in the crowd. Earlier, he’d attempted to run facial recognition software on the attendees, but the dark shadows constantly sweeping through the room had rendered the technology futile.
“The Republic is no longer balanced, and it’s all the Chancellor’s fault!” The speaker pounded a fist on the table. “Sheis the reason we are in pain, the reason we are suffering.It’s because of her that our families are going hungry. That our children are starving.”
The more he spoke, the louder his voice became. He was reaching a fever pitch as he moved out from behind the pulpit and stepped towards the camera.
“The Chancellor, the Representative filth, and their families are a gods-damned plague upon our land. Once, we were blessed by the gods, but now they are angry. Their displeasure is evident everywhere we look. The lack of unity in this land is proof enough of that.”
The speaker paused, and someone in the crowd asked, “So what can be done?”
A smirk crept across the speaker’s face, and a shiver swept down Nikhail’s spine.
“I’m glad you asked,” he said. “It is our duty, both to ourselves and to the gods who watch over this continent, to rectify the situation. We cannot let things stand as they are. First, we will?—”
“Turn it off.” The command, cold and powerful and barely more than a whisper, came from behind Nikhail. “I’ve seen enough.”
Nikhail reached over and pressed a button on his laptop. The projection froze.
The cloaked man’s hand was raised, and even the shadows couldn’t hide the hateful sneer on his lips. There was a wrongness about the speaker that had Nikhail’s magic churning in his veins. A warning.
“So this is their new leader.” A chair creaked, and nearly silent footsteps rounded the table.
Nikhail looked to his left, where Chancellor Ignatia Rose was coming to stand beside him. Had she been human, she would’ve died in the blast that tore her house apart. As it was, she was still recovering. Her skin had an unnatural grey tinge, abrasionscovered her face, and dark purple bruises had formed under her eyes.
The Chancellor’s right leg was in a cast that reached her thigh, and even the stylish navy-blue suit and matching blouse she wore couldn’t hide that she’d been attacked.
The Chancellor’s remaining injuries were a reminder of Nikhail’s purpose. The meeting with Arlo had shown him how bad things were with the rebels, and Nikhail had been forced to change his plans once again.
Even though he yearned to go to River’s side, circumstances had compelled him to remain at the office and work long hours, trying to uncover information on the rebels and their purpose.
He couldn’t get the Chancellor’s earlier warning out of his mind. That maybe the Black Night wasn’t working alone. Maybe they had people inside the military who were feeding them information. Making it easier for them to disrupt the Republic’s day-to-day operation.
If that was the case, no one could be trusted.
The potential of an informant made it difficult for Nikhail to outsource work to his team. He trusted them, but trust only went so far. He didn’t want to inadvertently provide the rebels with information that could help them harm River, so he’d been working twelve- to eighteen-hour days.
The long hours and his extra workload didn’t bother him. Not if it meant they could extinguish the threat against the Representatives. Not because doing so would keep the Chancellor safe—she was low on his list of priorities—but for River.
For now, Nikhail was resigning himself to communicating with his water fae through texts. River hadn’t seen his messages yet, but he would keep sending them. Even if she never replied, even if she never spoke to him again, he’d still work to protect her. He would do so until he drew his last breath because shewas his. There would be no one else for Nikhail. Not now that he’d had a taste of what it meant to be with River. She was it for him.
Nikhail stood. “Yes, ma’am. As far as we can tell, this is the leader who took charge of the rebels after the Reunion.”
Nearly two years ago, the Black Night attempted to force the Chancellor to give up her position in the government by kidnapping the men who had been involved in the Choosing, including Ryker, and holding them hostage.
While the water fae had made it out alive—thanks to Brynleigh—Edward Tormand, the Chancellor’s new son-in-law, hadn’t been so lucky. The rebels had murdered him on camera in an effort to force the Chancellor to resign on the spot.
Nikhail glanced at the Chancellor, wondering if mentioning the night of her son-in-law’s brutal murder would have an effect on her, but her face remained a blank slate.
He’d heard rumors of the woman’s iciness and how she’d become estranged from her daughter, Valentina, after the murder. It was one thing to hear whispers about the Chancellor’s cold-heartedness, and another to witness it in person.
“I see.” She stepped closer to the screen, leaning on her crutches.
Even injured, Ignatia Rose emanated power. She was a strong fire fae, descended from some of the most powerful fae that had ever lived. Her ancestors had held prominent positions in the Summer Court in the old fae lands before the Great Migration.
She extended her right hand towards the screen. The rings adorning her fingers glinted in the fluorescent office lights, and she traced the rebel leader’s shadowy face.