Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,203

this turn of events as he was. After all, it had been less than a week since the Patriarche had shot down the idea of a rescheduled Ascension. Which meant whatever was happening here, whatever the general had convinced the Patriarche to agree to, it wasn’t a coincidence.

It wasn’t the general “taking his chances,” as Alouette had said.

“This, however, will be a very different kind of Ascension,” the Patriarche went on, drawing Marcellus’s focus back to the screen. “Unlike any we have experienced on Laterre before. I realize that despite the recent”—the Patriarche paused, looking displeased by the general’s choice of words—“…setbacks, there are still many of you—the majority of you, in fact—who have chosen not to rebel. Who have not participated in the chaos and turmoil that has invaded our planet. There are many of you who have continued to perform your honest work for an honest chance and who have continued to show loyalty to me, my family, and our beloved and beautiful Regime. And I would like to personally demonstrate my deepest appreciation and gratitude to you.”

The Patriarche took a long, rehearsed pause. Marcellus felt like his lungs were trapped in a vise.

“Which is why,” Lyon Paresse continued, “for this special Ascension ceremony, we will be choosing not one person to Ascend to the Second Estate, but fifty.”

“Fifty!?” Cerise spat, her gaze snapping up from the device. “That’s unheard of.”

Marcellus nodded, his gut twisting more with every passing second. “Yes, it is.”

“That’s right, my fellow Laterrians,” the Patriarche said, his forced smile widening to the point where he looked like a broken toy. “In just a few minutes, fifty lucky members of the Third Estate will be chosen to Ascend. And of course, like every winner before them, all fifty Ascendants and their families will receive brand-new manoirs in Ledôme and will be invited to attend the Ascension banquet at the Grand Palais tomorrow night. There, my wife, Matrone Veronik Paresse, and I will personally welcome you all to your new life.”

The Patriarche’s lips pulled back again to reveal his perfectly white teeth in an expression that was undoubtedly supposed to appear pleasing but ended up only looking disquieting. As though some part of him knew there was something very sinister about this turn of events.

“Fifty winners?” Chatine repeated, dumbfounded.

“And their families,” Cerise added.

“That has to be close to two hundred people,” Alouette said.

Marcellus closed his eyes, feeling the planet wobble beneath his feet like a rumbling foreshadow of what was to come. “It’s the Peasant’s Revolt,” he whispered as a chilling tingle shot down his spine.

Cerise turned to him. “You mean from the Regiments game?”

Marcellus nodded. “Surround and capture the Monarch. He’s going to use the Third Estate to kill the Patriarche.”

“What?” Chatine asked.

Marcellus’s breath was coming fast and furious now. “It’s the perfect plan. Ledôme is nearly impenetrable. Its perimeter is guarded by droids at all times. Normally, the Third Estate aren’t allowed inside, and the Patriarche never leaves it. Apart from a few strongly vetted servants and Palais staff, the Patriarche never comes close to the Third Estate.”

“Except during Ascension banquets,” Cerise whispered, the pieces evidently clicking into place in her mind as well.

“Exactly,” Marcellus said. “That’s how he plans to take control of the Regime. By sending in the Third Estate to murder the Patriarche and put an end to the Paresse family for good. He just had to find a way to get enough of them inside.” Marcellus released a shudder of a breath, once again in awe of his grandfather’s brilliant mind.

He glanced back at the screen of the strange Défecteur device. The Ascension ceremony had already begun. Faces spun across the screen, randomly stopping at winner after winner after winner.

The general’s unwitting army mobilizing before his very eyes.

This was how the Regime would end. This was how the general would pull off his master plan. His Peasant’s Revolt. By convincing the Monarch to invite the Peasants into his home so that they could destroy him. This was no longer the fool’s move that Marcellus had always believed it to be. Now it was the move that would secure General Bonnefaçon his long-awaited and hard-fought victory.

“The Regime will finally rid itself of the déchets and be brought to order.”

Marcellus had interpreted his grandfather’s words all wrong. The “déchets” he was referring to were not the Third Estate. They were the First Estate. Those were the people the general thought of as “garbage.” Fat to be trimmed. Scum to be eliminated. And