his daughter. It was a pitiful thought, from a small, weak place inside her.
I was supposed to be one of you.
But she wasn’t. She stood there, silent and humiliated, as her father greeted the other Hands. He was good at this: working the room, looking into everyone’s eyes, clasping their hands, making them feel seen and known. He was a skilled politician. A natural leader, able to change anyone’s mind over the course of a single conversation; able to make anyone follow him.
When Hesod commanded it, the Hands took their seats. Only Crier remained standing, horribly out of place, her skin hot with embarrassment. But it didn’t even seem to matter. Nobody, not even Kinok, had even looked at her yet—not even a glance, not even a split second of acknowledgment that she was in the room. It was as if Hesod had entered alone. As if Crier simply did not exist. In all her fantasies—when she had dared to let herself imagine this—she had been sitting in the spot that Kinok had taken. Sometimes, she even imagined herself at the head of the table. In her fantasies, all the Hands had greeted her, bowing their heads in deference, and she was wearing deep scarlet robes, and when she spoke the whole room listened.
She had never once imagined herself standing awkwardly in the doorway, completely removed from the actual meeting. A pointless, invisible observer.
It’s all right, she tried to tell herself. It’s your first meeting. At least you’re in the room. At least you’re allowed to talk.
Hesod called the meeting to open. First the Hands gave reports of the latest mundane happenings in their respective districts. Then Lady Mar—who Crier had always found fascinating, to the point where she’d made a conscious effort to follow the details of Mar’s rise to power in western Rabu—stood up, both hands braced on the table, and said, “There is no point in stalling. We are gathered for a reason. For too long, this Council has remained silent, passive, as a new war brews throughout the entire kingdom.”
“Do you speak of the human uprisings?” asked Councilmember Yaanik. “I would hardly claim that we have been passive. The uprisings are small, the work of a few human radicals throwing a fit. They have always been dealt with swiftly and without mercy.”
“I do not speak of the humans,” said Mar. “I speak of the Anti-Reliance Movement.”
Multiple Hands’ eyes flicked to Kinok. He, however, showed no reaction at all.
“With all due respect, my lord,” Mar continued, inclining her head in Hesod’s direction, “it seems unwise that the Scyre should attend this meeting at all. He is the face of the Movement. The face of the violence, the controversy. His political assemblies devolve into riots under his instruction—or, at the very least, his failure to condemn such behavior.”
Riots? Crier hadn’t heard anything about riots. Of course, her mind went straight to the Southern Uprisings—the ones Kinok was so famous for having squelched.
“It is true,” added Councilmember Paradem, from the Far North. Crier did not know how old she was, but she was far more visibly aged than the other Hands. Her skin had a certain dullness to it, her eyes clouded. Her head was shaved, perhaps to disguise the fact that her hair had lost its color. Sometimes, when she held a quill, her hands trembled. “I attended an Anti-Reliance assembly once, a year ago,” she said. “I expected a gathering of minds, but instead found myself caught in a crowd of hundreds calling for the total cessation of our relationship with humanity. It was base. Chaotic. Something I would expect from humans—not the elevated Kind. And what is the thesis of your little movement, Scyre? Creating a new capital? It would never work.”
Mar nodded. “The War is long over. With the proper governance, humans are capable of contributing to society.” Her mouth twitched, amused. “How far does this ‘anti-reliance’ extend? Should we kill the pack horses and the cattle? Should we sink the Iron Heart into the sea? Should we build our dwellings deep below the earth to avoid the touch of sunlight?”
“That depends, Councilmember,” said Kinok, speaking up for the first time. He pulled out what looked like a pocket watch, holding it up to the light and then letting it dangle from his hand like a hypnotist’s pendulum. He seemed very intent on making sure all the Hands could see it, and to Crier’s surprise, they all seemed to know exactly what it was. More