The Edge of Everything (The Edge of Everything #1)(46)

He struck Regent instead.

A gasp flew up from the lords. The sentinels raced forward with their rifles. X looked to Regent, whose face was a mask of fury and surprise.

“I never intended—” said X.

Regent raised a palm to silence him.

“You have spoken,” he said, his tone suddenly clipped and officious. “And you may not speak again.”



X collapsed back into the stone chair. All was lost. He would never be a bounty hunter again. He would never see Zoe. His insolence might even cost her family their lives.

He gazed at the bandage on his leg. Blood rose through it like a little lake. To distract himself, he pressed his fingertips into it and felt the pain rush through him. Maybe, with Ripper’s help, he could prevent the wound from ever healing, so that he could jab at it forever—a permanent reminder of his loss.

When it came time for the lords to vote, Regent helped him out of his chair.

“Be silent, no matter what occurs,” the lord told him. “I have done all that I can.”

X forced himself to look out at his judges. Few of them returned his gaze, which told him everything he needed to know about his fate.

The diminutive lord who’d opened the proceedings called out the official referendum in his reedy voice: “Shall this soul remain a bounty hunter—yea or nay?”

A nay was shouted, and then another, and then two more.

X felt as if he were watching his future with Zoe vanish and die. He had promised to return to her unless two worlds conspired against him—what a reckless promise! All it had taken was his own anger and pride, his own voice leaping out of him unbidden.

He tried to shut his ears to the proceedings. Yet listening to his own thoughts was no less a misery. How long would it take Zoe to admit to herself that X had failed her—that he was never coming back?

The ninth—or was it the tenth?—nay was bellowed out.

X hoped Zoe knew that he loved her. He couldn’t swear he had actually said those words. When he had kissed her, every part of him was flooded with feeling. Had she known it? Would she remember? Or would she decide that he had never cared for her? Might it be better if she did?

His mind ached. Every question was like dry wood exploding in a fire.

He could ask Banger to take Zoe a message when Banger was sent to retrieve another soul. Banger was a loyal friend, that was clear. He would do it. But what would the message say? The words “I’m sorry” were so small.

Regent voted in X’s favor, and X felt an absurd flutter of hope.

Three more nays followed. X was surprised how much they stung him even now.

He needed this to end. It was torture.

The lords had grown tired of the vote. They began standing and pushing toward the aisle. The man-child behind the podium shouted for order. They ignored him, and jostled each other. X wondered how such a pack of adolescents could rule the Lowlands.

And then it struck him: They didn’t rule the Lowlands. Not really. Ripper’s words came back to him: the lords answered to the Higher Power.

Suddenly, X heard a voice cry out: “I question your authority!”

He was shocked to discover that it was his own.

Regent shook his head violently, reminding X that he was forbidden from speaking again.

But X would not be silent. Zoe wouldn’t have been.

“I question your authority!”

Every head turned.

“On what grounds?” said the little lord.

X stole a look at Regent, hoping for encouragement. The lord gave him the slightest of nods.

“On the grounds,” he began slowly, “on the grounds that you do not have the right to judge me—for I am the son of a lord.”

Silence swept the cavern. Ripper had counseled X well.

“There is one who rules over even you,” X continued. “Only He has the power to punish me. Only He can decide my fate. Ask Him to judge me—if you dare.”



Banger hung on every word of X’s story. The guards had ushered him back to his cell, and they could not get their fill of his tale either. They stood clustered in front of the bars, openly admiring X’s courage (“The bollocks on ’im! Imagine!”) and soaking up every detail in amazement. Ripper danced noisily in her cell, feigning madness, but X knew that she listened and was proud.

As for X himself, he careened between ecstasy and shock. He tried to calm his blood, reminding himself that his fate was still uncertain.

“You said, ‘I question your authority’?” Banger asked, not for the first time. “You seriously said that?”

“Desperation drove me to it,” said X.

“And then what ’appened?” said one of the guards, who had a wizened old face like a shrunken apple. “Mayhem, I figger?”

“The lords exploded into debate,” said X. “The noise was terrible. The lords circled me, outraged by my insolence. They threatened me with medieval punishments. Dervish stuck his nose within inches of my face, and asked if I was aware of how many different ways there were to skin a human body. But I was so inflamed with righteousness that he did not scare me, and I let him know it by replying, calmly as I could, ‘Seven?’”

This brought a round of laughter.

“Despite the lords’ fury,” X continued, “no one suggested that they did have the authority to judge me. I grew bolder and bolder, and began exclaiming, ‘Ask Him to judge me! Only He can judge me!’ Once, I believe I even shouted, ‘Can He hear us now? Is He listening?! Tell Him that He must answer!’ I was demented. Then, suddenly, amid the chaos, something so peculiar happened that I do not know how to credit it.”