Did Ryzek know she wasn’t really the chancellor? Or had she convinced him she was? Either way, it was too late. Too late.
“Ori,” I said. In Thuvhesit, I added, “She tried to come for you.”
I couldn’t tell if she heard me, she was so still.
“Thuvhe is just a playground for the Shotet,” Ryzek said. “It was easily penetrated, its chancellor effortlessly taken by my faithful servants. Soon, its chancellor will not be the only thing we take from it. This planet is ours to be claimed!”
He was rallying his supporters. Their roar was deafening. Their faces twisted with glee. The mania made the currentshadows wrap around my body, tight as ropes binding a prisoner, and I flinched.
“What do you think, Shotet?” Ryzek said, lifting his head to the crowd. “Should the chancellor die at the hand of one of her former subjects?”
Ori, still looking at me, didn’t make a sound, though the amplifier drifted so close to her head it almost hit Eijeh. The one who carried my brother’s horrors inside his head.
The chant began immediately. “Die!”
“Die!”
“Die!”
Ryzek spread his arms wide, like he was basking in the sound. He turned, slowly, beckoning more and more of it, until the thirst for Ori’s death felt like a tangible thing, a weight in the air. Then he held up his hands to quiet them, grinning.
“I think it’s Cyra who will decide when she dies,” he said. He lowered his voice a little. “If I fall—if you don’t supply me with an antidote of some kind—she will fall, too.”
I said weakly, “There is no antidote.”
I could save her. I could tell Ryzek the truth—the truth I had told no one, even Akos, as he begged me to preserve what little hope he had left for his brother—and delay her execution. I opened my mouth to see if the truth would come out, despite my paralysis.
If I told Ryzek the truth—if I saved Ori’s life—we would all be trapped in this amphitheater, surrounded by a sea of Ryzek’s supporters, with no victory to claim for the renegades.
My mouth was dry. I couldn’t swallow. No, it was too late for Orieve Benesit. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t save her without sacrificing us all. Including the true chancellor of Thuvhe.
Ryzek swayed, and I stepped forward, weapon outstretched, to meet him as he fell. I thrust the knife, and his weight dragged us both to the ground.
High above us, Eijeh Kereseth—curly haired, wide-eyed, and gaunt—drove the currentblade into Orieve Benesit’s gut.
And twisted it.
CHAPTER 38: AKOS
AS ORI COLLAPSED, AKOS heard a bloodcurdling scream. Ryzek fell on his side, his arms crossed in front of his body and his head limp against the dirt. Cyra got to her feet, knife in hand. She had done it. She had killed her brother, and the last hope for Eijeh’s restoration.
Isae was shoving her way through the crowd as everything turned to chaos. She was clawing, her teeth gritted, fighting her way to the platform. Akos hoisted his body over the arena barrier and sprinted across the dirt, past Cyra and Ryzek, over the other barrier and into the crowd again. People elbowed and kicked and pressed, and his fingernails came away red with somebody else’s blood, and he didn’t care.
Up on the platform, Ori grabbed Eijeh’s arms to hold herself up. Blood sputtered from her lips as she tried to breathe. Eijeh hunched over her, holding her elbows, and together they dropped to the ground. Ori’s brow wrinkled, and Akos watched, not wanting to interrupt.
“Bye, Eij,” she said, her voice caught by the hovering amplifier.
Akos bent low and barreled into the last of the crowd. Children screamed someplace far away. A woman moaned as someone trod on her—she couldn’t get up, so people were just running over her.
When Isae got to Eijeh and Ori, she threw Akos’s brother back with a roar. In half a tick she was on top of him, her hands around Eijeh’s throat. And he didn’t seem to be moving, even though she was choking him to death.
Akos didn’t move right away, he just watched her do it. Eijeh had killed Ori. Maybe he deserved to die.
“Isae,” Akos said with a croak. “Stop.”
Ori was reaching for her sister, fingers straining at the empty space. It was only when Isae saw it that she let go of Eijeh and crouched next to her sister instead. Ori held Isae’s hand tight to her chest, and their eyes met.
A small smile. Then gone.
Akos pushed his way onto the platform, where Isae was bent over Ori’s body. Ori’s dark clothes were wet with blood. Isae didn’t cry, or scream, or shake. Behind her, Eijeh was—for some reason—lying still, eyes closed.
A shadow passed over them. The renegade ship, glowing orange, yellow, and red, coming to their rescue, piloted by Jyo and Sifa.
Teka was already crouched over the control panel on the right side of the platform. She was trying to pry the screen away from the rest of the mechanism, but her hand was trembling around the screwdriver, so she kept losing the screws. Finally Akos drew his knife and forced it between screen and mechanism, pressing them apart. Teka nodded her approval, and jammed her fingers inside to disable the force field.
There was a flicker of bright white as the force field winked out. The transport ship sank into the amphitheater, and hovered as low as it could go without crushing the seats. The floor hatch opened over them, and the steps came down.
“Isae!” Akos shouted. “We have to go!”
Isae gave him a look that was like poison. She put her hands under Ori’s arms and tried to drag her toward the ship. Akos went to Ori’s legs, to help, but Isae snapped, “Hands off her!” so he stepped back. By that time, Cisi had made it to the platform, and Isae didn’t yell at her. Together they carried Ori’s body up the steps to the ship.