NOVEL NEXT Chapter 94: Good as His Word
Rowan knew something wasn't quite right the moment they stepped from the carriage. Whispers alighted, and furtive glances flitted over both of them. Rowan was used to this kind of treatment, but with his nomination promised, the atmosphere was surprisingly hostile. What made him more nervous was the way several pairs of eyes slid over to Kess, followed by a series of harsh whispers. Besides her skill at Stormclap, Kess had mostly stayed out of sight at court. This new attention couldn't be a good thing.
"Are you sure your delightful father is holding up his end of the deal?" Kess asked as they walked up a grand staircase. The marble underfoot was surprisingly dry, and though only a roof covered the lit pathway to the palace, Fulminant wards kept out most of the weather. It was a luxury that only the nobility had, and even then, Rowan could see those wards straining against the howling wind outside.
"He's usually as good as his word," Rowan finally replied. Usually. His father was not an honorable man, but he had never been a liar. He was earnest to a fault, and though he was willing to play politics, Rowan had never seen him go back on a deal without speaking to the other party first.
Rowan willed some of his Fulminancy into his sword, a thin veneer that was mostly decorative, but also symbolic of his new position. That white-tinted gray fire appeared, and Kess turned her head, noticing it.
"When did you learn to do that?" she asked, eyes curious. "I didn't know you could actually use it." Rowan smiled faintly, watching other couples as they funneled through the hallway into the grand entrance at the end.
"I've neglected some of my swordplay in favor of it, but it's mostly decorative—I can't do anything like you or Rae." Certainly he hadn't needed more hours at the sword, but he missed them all the same. Still, it was nice to display the fruits of his labor. Kess kept glancing at it, as if trying to figure out a puzzle.
"Do you think I could learn to control what you've given me?" she asked. Rowan glanced sharply at her.
"You still have it?"
"Of course." She held up a hand, as if trying to sense it there. A spark of her own Fulminancy appeared briefly, but nothing more. She frowned. "It's still there, but I can't tap into it. I don't know why it didn't fade."
"Maybe because your locket is attuned to you. But then—I don't feel like I'm missing any of what I had before." Oddly, his powers had come back slowly and steadily, like a well that filled up naturally with rainwater over time. Kess had always described hers as refilling in fits and spurts. Sometimes she would wake up and it was all there, and other times it could take days.
Kess sighed as they climbed another set of steps, her head turning towards a statue of one of the Founders on the way up. She looked a little put out by his trick with the sword, and Rowan stifled a smile. Even if Kess wasn't willing to admit it, she was obviously curious about her powers now. She might still have the wrong idea about them, attacking garrisons and using herself as a weapon, but deep down, there was a childlike curiosity she kept stuffed away. Sometimes it peeked through.
"Well, it never hurts to have more firepower," she said, resigned. Then she nodded to the gargantuan ballroom ahead, where noblemen gathered in clumps, conversing, and staring at the two of them. "I think we might end up needing it."
The palace ballroom was the grandest in the city, a holdout from when Hillcrest was still ruled by kings and queens. Now the building was mostly used for offices, parties, and quarters for all manner of people who lived Uphill. The palace ballroom spread in stark contrast to Rowan's home, its ceilings high and vaulted, decorated with gilded storm clouds and a balcony that lined the edge of the room.
It was grand and elegant, but the beauty of the scene did little to calm Rowan's nerves as he dove into the crowd with Kess. The atmosphere was stuffy at best, and hostile at worse. Pity, outrage, confusion—these expressions settled on every face in the ballroom, a damning fortune of what was to come. Rowan's gut sunk like a stone. The chatter fell from a swell to a whisper as they passed through.
The high table on the dais ahead was already occupied by most of the current Seats, though Niall wandered the room as he usually did, laughing and joking. Rowan's father whispered with one of the older Seats, though strangely, Rowan noticed a missing Seat—one of the newest members of the Council, a young man who had only recently joined.
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"I'm not sure what your father is planning, but perhaps we should get ahead of it," Kess murmured beside him. He nodded absently. She was right. He reached for a small piece of paper in his pocket—his speech and a proposal for a bill of rights for the Downhill. He'd worked on it for months now, and this might be the only chance he'd get to present it. It wouldn't win him any friends, but if news of his lights had spread, he wanted to mitigate some of that damage, at least. He squared his shoulders and walked with Kess at his side towards the dais.
Rowan whispered to an aid, who announced Rowan's name and his purpose as Rowan approached the dais. The room fell silent as he opened his mouth to speak.
His father stood up, eyes frantic, and cut him off from behind the table.
"The Council has come to a ruling," he said, his voice powerful and booming over the hall. "The Seventh Seat, the Seat of Mariel, shall be eliminated due to crimes of a serious nature committed by the previous candidate, as well as a historical precedent for abuse." His eyes fell on Rowan and Kess. "By now, everyone has heard of the tragedy at Redring garrison. Mariel herself attacked those men on their way to deliver food to the Downhill." Several women gasped, and a low, angry buzzing emanated from the partygoers. "In addition, I'm afraid my son may have had a hand in the resulting explosion. These lights around the city—have any of us looked into them? The funding comes from Grandbow himself—a man solely responsible for the tragedy of the parlors last spring. Is this something we want in our homes? Our businesses?"
Rowan's father shook his head, trying to look solemn, though Rowan knew the mirth hidden beneath his bearded face. "Until such time as those lights are proven safe, I think it prudent to remove them from the city entirely. What hand my son may have had in helping Mariel, I cannot say, but it pays to be extra diligent in these dangerous times." He paused as the room grew louder, and met Rowan's eyes, a calm smile on his face, his voice clear over the chaos. "I retract the nomination of my son for the Seventh Seat and instead wish to nominate myself for the expired Third Seat."
The Council threw up their hands immediately, affirming the nomination. An older gentleman took his eyes away from Kess to tally the votes, then stood, shuffling a few papers.
"The nomination is approved," he said, nodding towards the Council. "Lord Northmont will take the Third Seat after his examination." He sat, his eyes back on Kess, who wasn't paying attention to the Council, but to the crowd as it swirled and chattered, on edge.
Rowan realized that they were still standing partially on the dais, in plain view of the room. Best not to give them a show, he thought, trying to master his expression. Slowly, Rowan stepped from the dais with Kess, whose grip on his arm was so hard he was starting to lose feeling in it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "This is my fault." Reeling, Rowan finally found her face, as stormy as the tempest outside.
"No," he said quietly. "He was going to do it anyway. As soon as that other Seat opened. He has no need to deal with the Downhill anymore, and no desire to fill that Seat."
"He couldn't have known about that Seat—unless he killed the man himself."
"No," Rowan agreed. "But as soon as it opened up, he saw no need to deal with us any longer."
"Rowan," Kess said, watching the crowd warily. "Where did you get the Fulminancy for the Redring garrison from?"
"Grandbow supplied it," Rowan replied grimly. "It was Rae's, but when he sent me a sample, he claimed it was from a few Uphill donors. I was in the middle of testing it when it blew."
"I think you were set up."
Rowan twisted his mouth at that. He'd thought the same thing, of course, but what choice did he have? If he hadn't shown up for the nomination, his father would have humiliated and undermined him in some other way.
But there was something else that bothered him more about his father's speech—the way his eyes fell on Kess as he mentioned the destruction in the city. Niall knew Kess's true identity, but who else did? Suddenly the guards at the door seemed less like a formality. A few tracked them as they walked around the ballroom together.
"I'm not sure we're as anonymous as we think," Kess said, her eyes on the guards.
Rowan nodded. "But why haven't they arrested us already?"
"Because they don't want to risk the panic it would cause," Kess replied. "If they attack, we fight, and I blow this place to pieces. Most of the Council isn't interested in fighting or war, and even if they managed to seize us at the end, the message it would send is that it took multiple Councilmen to take the two of us out—not a good look for people who want to be in control."
"So they'll wait."
Kess nodded. "They'd rather arrest us somewhere quieter, away from all of these people. But I don't think we're getting out tonight without a fight."
Rowan eyed a side hallway, thoughts racing. Kess's brother and Rae were in this palace somewhere, more than likely. Their time here was limited at best. "Why don't we give them what they want?" he asked. Kess's eyes drifted towards the hallway, her mouth set in grim determination.
"My thoughts exactly."