The Abyss (Fae's Captive #7) - Lily Archer Page 0,10
She shakes her head. “Please. We are all equals now. No kneeling, no bowing, no scraping.” She takes the hand of the slave nearest her and pulls him to his feet. “From now on, we only rise.”
The crowd gets to their feet, many of them with tears in their eyes. I can feel the temperature dropping, the fray averted. With a tug, I pull Beth to my side, though I keep a wary eye open for trouble. Things are still too volatile, too many emotions running high.
“I was going to speak at the top of the slave market—before we tear it down, but this seems like it will do. Parnon?” Silmaran steps toward him.
He grabs her waist and lifts her with ease until she stands on his shoulders, his hands around her ankles.
“Friends.” Her voice fans out over the crowd, someone using their magic to amplify it. “We are here because we have the heart of all those who came before us. The will to be free. And we are now at the time when we must make a choice. Do we act with vengeance?”
A good portion of the crowd yells in support.
“Do we commit the same atrocities that were visited upon us?”
More yells of agreement.
“Or do we show mercy? Do we give those who did harm to us a chance? Do we show them that this world belongs to everyone, and that only together can it work?” She clasps her hands, her plea loud and clear. “I have seen your suffering. I have felt it here.” She thumps her chest. “I know what it is to be hurt, to be whipped, to be beaten, to be raped.” The last word leaves her lips on a tremble, and Beth presses her cheek to my chest.
If I could slay every last fae who ever took from my mate without permission, I would. Such beings deserve the most vicious of deaths. I rub her back, a silent promise that no one will ever use her like that again.
Silmaran is saying the right words, calming the crowd, beginning this new world in the light of forgiveness and community. But if it were me? If I were the one who could deal out punishment against anyone who dared harm my Beth? Then this city would be drowning in blood until not one slaver was left.
Silmaran lifts her chin and continues. “All of you know me. You know what I believe in. You know who I fight for.”
A roar rolls over the gathered slaves.
“You.” She nods. “Yes. You are my heart. And I will always fight for you. But now, the fight is over. The masters are dead, hiding, or fleeing. This city is ours!”
Another cheer shakes the wrecked buildings, and a puff of dust goes up a few streets over as a home collapses.
She holds out her palms to quiet the fearful murmurs. “We have secured what’s left of the alchemy stores and the dark magic locked away beneath the sands. They are all within our control. No more quakes or explosions. The city will survive. We will rebuild. And we must all do it together. As one. If the masters want to stay here and try our new way, we must let them. If they, instead, choose to leave, we must let them.” Her voice lowers, iron in her words. “But if they choose violence, they choose their own destruction.”
I keep Beth tucked in close as the loudest roar yet rips through the gathered slaves.
Holding out her hands, she quiets the cheers. “As proof that this new world can work, I offer you Gareth of the winter realm.” She looks down at me.
I take a step back.
“Yes.” She points at me. “Gareth is King Gladion’s closest noble. He played a large part in starting this rebellion.”
The crowd cheers. Even the slave who only moments ago wanted my head claps in approval. I glance at Silmaran—does she have some sort of silver-tongued magic?
“Tell them, Gareth. Tell them of the winter realm where all are free.” She beams at me.
I look out at the sea of faces lit by the crescent moon. They are starved. For food, yes. But for something greater—hope. They need it now more than ever. Now that their world has fractured and fallen apart. Hope is the only thing that will stop the bloodbath that Silmaran fears. I fear it, too. But that hope? I can’t give it. I’m a high fae, not one of them, not a slave. But I