Chapter Four

Neith

 

I glance to those seated in the booths above. Seth is now beside Invier’s mother. He rubs the Titane’s back as Song sobs into a black handkerchief. She’s comforted by the Sirou girl whose face is drawn and sorrowful. Invier’s father hasn’t changed position since the last time I looked at him.

 

Returning my attention to the more immediate matter at hand, I say to Mehrdad, “We viewed footage of your attack on this estate and the resulting deaths. Do you admit or deny responsibility?”

 

Now clad in a loose-fitting khaki jumpsuit—a prisoner’s uniform, he squares his shoulders and says, “I admit.” His answer is amplified by the small silver microphone attached to the collar. It makes his voice boom across the cavernous pavilion. Defiant and strong.

 

I look at Father. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth hangs in a crooked scowl. He’s just waiting for me to get to the part he’s interested in.

 

My palms sweat as anxiety sets in. This is the tricky part of our plan. If Father is correct, it doesn’t matter what Mehrdad says, the other nomes will assume his father consented to the attack and if so, I will need to pounce at that moment and use it to secure my family’s position.

 

“And do you also admit that your father told you to attack Nome Reffour?”

 

“No. My father had nothing to do with the attack.”

 

“Liar!” someone yells from the booths.

 

“Goran must have—”

 

“Tell the truth!”

 

“There’s no way…”

 

I take the measure of the crowd. Father rubs his mustache with a satisfied grin. Things are going the way he planned. I just have to do my part.

 

“Scion Cyra,” I say quietly. “Are we to believe that Titan Cyra did not tell you to attack Nome Reffour? The same way we are to believe that you and your nome didn’t kill off your fellow scions? Or maybe we shouldn’t believe the video footage we’ve seen.”

 

Mehrdad doesn’t even flinch at my words. He just glowers at me stonily.

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t believe what I saw with my own eyes then. Your man shooting my …” I let my voice fall and drag my eyes to the table, allowing my shoulders to slump. “Master Portan must have died by some other means.”

 

Still no reaction from Mehrdad. He remains mute and I continue to examine at the table’s surface.

 

“I want him dead!” Titane Carre says through faint sobs.

 

Banne is on his feet yet again. “Me too. He must pay for—”

 

Unwilling to let the meeting spiral out of control, I say, “Sit, Titan Seltan. The Council, and not individual members, will determine Scion Cyra’s fate.” The steel in my voice is clear as I hold the Titan’s gray gaze. Those eyes, just like the ones that glared at me during Adela’s final moments.

 

“Yes, Arbiter Reffour is right,” Titane Quarton Yetun says sitting across from Titan Seltan. “Whatever happens to Scion Cyra must be a council decision. Sit down, Banne. This will be over soon.” Her tone has just the right effect as Adela’s father blinks several times as if waking from a stupor. His hardened face relaxes and he sits down. Not before scowling at Mehrdad.

 

“Let the vote begin. Titane Carre, the floor is yours.”

 

She wipes a tear with one hand, her other ensconced in Titan Damil’s, which is much larger.

 

“Mehrdad. You and Loic were friends from childhood.” She glares at him, blinking back tears, “I can’t believe …” She rises, yanking her hand out of the Titan’s. “How could you kill him?”

 

“I didn’t.” Mehrdad says calmly.

 

“Your vote, Titane?” I ask before he can speak again.

 

She whips her head in my direction and there are pronounced veins in her neck.

 

“Death!”

 

A murmur weaves across the booths.

 

“I vote with Nome Carre.” Titan Damil mutters, assisting the Titane back into her seat. When he speaks again, it’s with more certainty. “Nobody should be able to subvert the law in this manner.”

 

Titane Yetun stands. “I agree. The Pact must be observed.”

 

The room turns to Titane Opitz.

 

“As they have suffered the greatest injustice, I forfeit my vote to Nome Reffour,” she says, sable irises trained on me. A forfeit.

 

Typically, the votes of the three highest-ranked council members have more value than those of other council members. By giving me her vote, Titane Opitz enables my decision to carry more weight than it ordinarily would. While I’ve heard they happen, I’ve never witnessed a forfeit.

 

I look at Titan Kriel who’s lost in his pondering. He’s the second youngest person at this table, having only recently taken control of his nome. I remember his coronation day. I’d kissed Invier for the first time under a magnolia tree. Will he forfeit his vote as well? His late father was very good friends with my Father but that could count for nothing as rumor has it he’s nothing like his predecessor.

 

“Titan Kriel? Your vote, sir?”

 

“We should postpone this vote, wait to learn more about what happened last night. Why don’t we wait to find Titan Cyra…?”

 

Boos drown out the rest of his speech and Titane Carre leaps to her feet, “Did the Cyras give our children the courtesy of waiting before killing them?”

 

I walk over to her and wrap an arm around her shoulder. My expression is sufficiently sad and when she looks at me she says, “He doesn’t deserve leniency.”

 

“I understand your pain, Titane,” I say softly into her ear. “He deserves to be punished, but I beg you to please stay calm.”

 

It takes a little while for that wild look in her eyes to soften slightly and she sniffs, valiantly fighting to push back more tears before lowering herself into her seat.

 

Once the room’s volume lowers sufficiently, Seth’s father rises to his feet.

 

“I just lost my lovely wife, Lew,” Titan Talum says, staring down at fisted hands. “My boy was able to sit by his dying mother due to the kindness of Scioness Reffour, who granted him the Pass. Had he been here instead of home with us, who knows …” He chokes on his words. When he recovers, he says, “I wholeheartedly forfeit my vote to Nome Reffour’s Scioness.”

 

Another forfeited vote in my favor. My heart leaps and I look to Father. A small smile plays on his lips.

 

Aunty Tari is next to speak and she stands. Fingers spread on the table, she says, “My youngest daughter, Belema, spent several hours fighting for her life this morning. I’m glad she’s alive.”

 

She’s quiet for a few seconds and soon lets out what sounds like a grateful breath. “My vote is yours, Scioness.”

 

A third forfeited vote.

 

Titan Seltan doesn’t wait for Bel’s mother to sit. “He needs to die, right now!”

 

I do the calculations in my head. With the addition of Titane Carre’s super councillor vote, there are five and a half votes for Mehrdad’s death. Titan Kriel voted against death but with my forfeited votes, I hold the deciding decision. My two and a half votes as a super councilor added to those forfeited to me means I have an equal amount as those who want Mehrdad dead.

 

And now, it’s time for me to vote. Looking down at the table, I pretend to study the wood grain, which circles and loops across the surface in an unpredictable pattern.

 

“I, Scioness Neith Reffour, vote for leniency.”

 

That gets a reaction from Mehrdad. It also gets a reaction from the crowd. Some members yelled excitedly, even before hearing the end of my statement, assuming my vote was for death. Soon enough, they realize my desire wasn’t for his death and the pavilion descends into a hush. Confused looks appear on many faces. At that moment, I hear Portan’s voice in my head. You must understand the importance of managing several opinions and voices without losing your own. No matter what my audience thinks, they will bend to my voice and my will.

 

“What?” Titane Carre, blinks furiously, her eyes thinning to slits.

 

I let a few seconds pass before continuing, “Last night was the worst experience of my life but meting out the death penalty will create more issues for us as a collective.” I study the booths as I speak and the confused expressions are morphing into resistant ones.

 

Am I being fervent enough? This will be the greatest test of my ability to bend others to my will. Expressed or not. “How will killing Scion Cyra bring back the good people we lost?”

 

A few councilors murmur to each other.

 

“What do you propose, Arbiter?” Titan Kriel asks.

 

I close my eyes as if considering the question. “Let him live with the cloak of his crimes. Let him rise each morning and see the faces of those he took from us.”

 

Above, whispers strengthen, but I can’t tell whether they agree or not.

 

“Strip him of his position. Strip his entire nome of its wealth.” That gets some traction and a few in the booths nod emphatically and for good reason. My suggestion means every single nome rises up the ranks. It’s a benefit to all. Plus, they think the profit coming to the Cyras will trickle down to them. It will, for some, but not all.

 

“We don’t have to do things the way we always have.” As Arbiter, I’m in a position to encourage a slow but meaningful change from certain of our customs. Let me plant the seed right here, right now. It will hopefully pay off when it’s time to discuss the legality of the Phalanx.

 

I’m still talking when I see a flash of movement to my left. I fail to react until it’s too late to stop anything.

 

Titane Carre sweeps in between Sohr and Mehrdad, to stand behind him. His head is high in defiance but his eyes say something different as he tries to turn and see what the Titane is doing.

 

“What are you doing?” I move to the other end of the table but haven’t taken more than two steps when the crowd roars in approval.

 

Mehrdad’s shocked expression is all I see at first. His mouth is open as if he has something to say. His tawny-hued fingers reach for his neck. As I get closer, his eyes find me. Even now, they’re unafraid. But only for a few seconds as they roll upward and he plummets to his knees.

 

Titane Carre stands over him, eyes wild. Her weapon of choice gleams in crimson. The bejeweled talon ring on the index finger of her right hand. It’s supposed to be an accessory. Today, it was a weapon. I watch, entranced, as the onyx floor camouflages the blood dripping down. She must have slashed his throat given the amount of blood spilling between his fingers.

 

Through the pavilion’s clamor, I swear I hear the sound of something heavy hitting stone.

 

It’s just Mehrdad’s body slamming against the floor.