State of Sorrow (Untitled #1)(57)
“You don’t have to do this,” Sorrow had told Irris while they were packing up their things at the Winter Palace, worried her friend was once again sacrificing herself for some greater good. The idea of Irris not being by her side pained her, especially with Rasmus gone, but she wouldn’t force her. “If there’s something else you wanted to do instead, you have to. I don’t want you to stay out of duty. I know how much university meant to you.”
Sorrow needn’t have worried, though.
“I can go once you’ve won,” Irris had beamed at her friend. “Unless you plan to fire my father and make me your vice chancellor. In which case I accept.”
“You rumbled me,” Sorrow had replied. “Don’t tell Charon yet, though.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“We’d better get started, then.”
And so they had.
The Gift
Though she’d done her best not to show it, aware that most of Rhannon didn’t know how bad things had been between her and Harun, Sorrow had spent the last four weeks itching for the mourning period to be over so she could officially begin campaigning.
She’d been disappointed to find that there wasn’t very much to do – candidates simply gave a presentation to the Jedenvat at the beginning of the campaign, and then waited for the formality of election day to be over so they could get to work. She supposed it made sense when there was just one candidate – after all, the entire country would have to abstain in order for someone to lose, and the Jedenvat’s approval was guaranteed in the face of one candidate – but things were different this time. She’d be competing for votes. And she found, to her surprise, that she wanted to test her mettle. Rasmus had always said she was unnaturally competitive for an only child.
Luvian had told her how in Svarta the prospective fain – their version of a chancellor – would travel the land and visit the various tribes, asking what they needed and wanted and incorporating that into their campaign. And in Astria, the presidential candidates held rallies and galas to gather support. Sorrow thought both sounded like ideal opportunities to actually get out and meet the people, as well as to see Rhannon, and had asked Luvian to write to the Jedenvat, to find out how she would go about arranging it.
So when the Jedenvat had replied saying that, in honour of there being two candidates, she and Mael would give two presentations – one at the beginning for the public and one before the election for the Jedenvat – but otherwise “recommended she adhere to the protocol”, Sorrow was annoyed.
“What does that mean?” Sorrow had asked Luvian. “Is it a suggestion, or a command?”
“How on Laethea should I know?” Luvian replied.
“What’s the worst that happens if I assume it’s a suggestion?”
Luvian took a deep breath. “You lose the support of the Jedenvat for going against their clear wishes. Which, if you absolutely win the public vote, isn’t an immediate concern, but will make you the head of a council who don’t trust you. And if you don’t win the public vote, and it comes down to the Jedenvat making the final call, you’re, how should I phrase it … buggered. Utterly buggered.”
The word Sorrow uttered in response made Luvian grin widely. “My, my, Miss Ventaxis. Where did you learn such language?”
“Fine,” she fumed, ignoring him. “I’ll give them their presentations. I’ll give them the best ones in Rhannish history.”
But now the time for the first presentation was almost upon her, all her swagger had vanished, leaving her feeling desperately unready and unprepared.
“So, the presentation to the people.” Irris thumbed her way through her notes. They were in a small library, sitting at opposite ends of a plush dark-green sofa. “Stay away from anything controversial. Luvian says you should use this time to show the people you can be mature, calm and focused,” she read from the paper in her hand. “You need to show them you’re not like your father. Then the second one will be you in decisive, powerful mode for the Jedenvat. That’ll be interesting.” Irris looked up and grinned at Sorrow.
“Ha ha.”
“The important thing is to stay cool. Don’t get flustered.”
“Irri, it sounds like you’re expecting me to mess up,” Sorrow said, half joking.
Irris didn’t smile.
“Oh,” Sorrow said.
“You’re not used to speaking in front of crowds. And Mael is a consummate performer, currently playing the role of the prodigal son,” Irris added. “Who knows how long he’s been trained for this moment?”
“And if we’d found proof he was a performer, this would all be moot. We would be in Istevar, overseeing the renovations at the Winter Palace. Or finally enjoying the Summer Palace.”
“You’d still have to do some work,” Irris reminded her. “There would still be an election.”
“But I’d be the only name on the ballot.”
“We’ve found Corius, at least,” Irris said.
Sorrow snorted, remembering Luvian’s face when they’d learned the Rhyllian tailor, who’d made the suit Mael wore on the day he fell, was dead. “I’m only surprised Luvian didn’t demand him dug up and interrogated. He’s hardly dead at all, a mere matter of weeks,” Sorrow said, mimicking Luvian’s drawl with uncanny accuracy.