Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(80)

Unless I said the right thing.

But then I’d get in trouble.

I’d hate myself forever if I told these people what they wanted to hear, not what they needed to hear.

I’d made a mistake on the docks, costing Lex her freedom.

People were staring, waiting for me to say something. I’d been wearing a pleasantly neutral expression—after years of training, my face slipped into that by default—but I’d been standing here slightly too long without speaking.

I cleared my throat. “Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Thank you for needing me so much that the Luminary Council was forced to pull me out of the Pit. Or maybe they only needed me because Chenda had refused them.

“One of the more interesting parts of having a treaty named after me is the expectations that arise. I often feel I should be an expert on all matters even tangentially related to the Mira Treaty because we share a name, but I’ve come to realize that isn’t realistic. Not only is it impossible for one person to be an expert in all the things the Mira Treaty covers—dragons and conservationism, independence and equality, unity among the Fallen Isles, and more—it’s far too much weight for a young girl to carry.

“Nevertheless, it was expected of me, and I’ve done my best to educate myself not only on the treaty itself, but on the ways our societies have upheld its decrees. And as someone raised in the light of the Lovers, I find myself considering all aspects through filters of love and compassion.”

A few people offered patient smiles; many had heard Damina-based speeches from me before. But at my table, Bilyana frowned, and Elbena leaned forward, urging me to begin.

Give me peace. Give me grace. Give me enough love in my heart, I prayed. Cela, cela.

I glanced across the room, meeting enough people’s eyes that it wasn’t obvious when I found Ilina’s and held. I hoped she could see my apology behind the mask of Public Mira. “Seventeen years ago,” I started, “the Mira Treaty took a stance against discrimination, against occupation, and against the pillaging of our islands. The treaty states that to truly honor the Fallen Gods, all islands must be equal and independent. Anything less is immoral. Unethical.

“This truth is indisputable.”

Elbena smiled and leaned back in her seat, triumphant. These were the words she’d meant for me to speak.

“Since then,” I went on, “many strides have been taken toward making reparations, ensuring the success of Harta and her First Matriarch, and offering the freedom of choice for those who want to work and reside all across the Fallen Isles.

“But now we’ve reached another pivotal moment in our history. We can be silent . . . or we can speak up.”

Elbena’s grin fell.

I spoke quickly, because this was my one chance to say something useful. If I wasted it, I’d never forgive myself. “Forcing Hartans to leave is not an act of love or equality.” Please, Darina. Please, Damyan. “Love does no harm.”

The room went absolutely quiet.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE




THIS WASN’T TRUE SILENCE. I’D EXPERIENCED THAT before, so I knew the difference better than most. But in spite of the thumps of glasses returning to tables, the rattle of someone’s breathing, and the hiss of cloth, the whole room was very quiet.

A silk-clad woman risked a giggle, as though I’d made a joke.

A man glared at her.

Hristo’s eyes were wide, and I was sure that his mouth dropped open behind his mask.

Ilina pressed her palms to her chest and stifled a sob.

Elbena and Dara were both on their feet, striding toward me. I had to hurry. Say what I meant to say before I never saw the sky again.

“I hear complaints about losing money after investing in Hartans, but love is not consumed with its own gain. I hear attempts to minimize the pain of constant occupation, but love acknowledges the hurt and makes efforts to heal. I hear how everything is different now that the treaty has granted Harta independence, but love does not boast—it offers more. These are not only Daminan tenets, but commands from all our gods.” I dragged a breath, but before I could say more, Elbena grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise.

“That’s enough,” she hissed as she dragged me off the stage. “I’ll hear no more of this.”

I went with her, but I kept my head high and my shoulders back. There was plenty more to say, but I would not leave this place raving like a madwoman. My words would not be dismissed so easily.

Even so, Dara took my place on the stage, her palms up in supplication. “Forgive her, friends.” A note of fear edged her voice, buried under the practiced calm of someone used to speaking to the confused and frightened. “Mira hasn’t been feeling well recently. She’s been ill. And we’re going to ensure she is taken care of.”

“Poor girl,” someone muttered.

That was it. Before I realized, Elbena had me at the top of the stairs above the great lobby. My back pressed against the banister and she left no room for me to move. All I could feel was the long drop waiting behind me, and the furious councilwoman looming before me.

Hristo hovered three paces away, unsure what he should do.

Nothing, I hoped. Nothing right now. He was still safe and I wanted him to stay that way.

Elbena’s face was dark with rage, and her jaw set as though she wanted to bite.