State of Sorrow (Sorrow #1)(62)
She didn’t know how he’d done it, but some of her fear had seeped away, enough for her to say, “I’m ready.”
“Close enough,” Luvian smiled, leaning back. “But, yes, you are.”
“I’m going first,” Sorrow said. “Tell them. I want to go first.”
Luvian’s smile widened. “Atta girl.”
The Sons of Rhannon
Ten minutes later, they filed along a passageway, through a heavy door, and instantly the sound of a crowd assaulted Sorrow’s ears.
“How many people are out there?” she whispered.
“Around a thousand,” Irris replied.
“A thousand?” Sorrow choked on the words, her mouth dry as dust as her nerves returned.
“They took out the seats – it’s standing room only. This is history in the making,” Luvian replied, sounding far too chipper for Sorrow’s liking.
She whipped around to face him, but he shook his head and pushed her towards a set of steps, up and into the wings, and her entire body was instantly bathed in a cold sweat, her stomach churning.
She peeped through a gap in the curtain, taking in the crowd. Despite the relaxing of the laws, they still wore the same old, dark colours, though they looked a little more animated than the people who’d been at the bridge the day Mael returned. They turned to their neighbours and spoke softly to them, exchanging quicksilver smiles and embraces, as though still frightened to do so. It seemed Rhannon was finally returning to life, albeit fearfully.
Behind the crowd the Decorum Ward stood watch, Meeren Vine and fifty of his men and women lining the walls. Luvian had insisted on it after the package, and for once Sorrow hadn’t felt like arguing. It didn’t mean she disliked Vine, or what the Ward stood for, any less, but until they found out who had sent a dead animal to her, she would feel a little easier knowing there was some security nearby.
Even so, it turned her stomach to watch Vine caressing the leather baton at his waist as he spoke to one of his men.
“Ready?” Irris whispered in her ear.
Sorrow nodded, too afraid to open her mouth in case she threw up.
“You’ve got this,” Luvian murmured on her other side. “Show them who Sorrow Ventaxis is.”
Before Sorrow could reply, Ellyra called her name, then Mael’s, and Luvian was shoving her out on to the stage to the sound of polite applause.
Mael walked out with a hand raised, waving to the crowd, and Sorrow remembered she was supposed to do the same. He was wearing dark blue trousers, and a long fitted blue coat – he looked like Luvian, she realized, the same precise tailoring and fitted, almost militaristic cut. As he neared the front of the stage, the row of gas lamps along the front lit his face, and she saw that he looked thinner, shadows under his eyes, his smile a little strained. He wasn’t finding it easy, she thought. He was probably up half of the night learning the intricacies of governing a country he was a stranger to.
At that moment, Mael turned to her, and his smile widened. He looked genuinely happy to see her, despite the fact they were competing against each other. He mouthed, “How are you?” and she replied, “Fine,” in kind, aware they were being watched. Most of the time, she thought his niceness was an act. But sometimes… She shook the thought away.
She focused on Luvian and Irris moving through the crowd, gently pushing past people, until they were in her sight line, both of them nodding at her, silently telling her she could do this.
Ellyra Bird stepped forward.
“Welcome, all of you. Tonight, history will be made in Rhannon. For the very first time, we have two eligible candidates for the chancellorship: Mael Ventaxis, son of the late chancellor, returned to us from the dead…” She paused to allow the audience to clap, before continuing.
“… and his younger sister –” Sorrow tried to keep her face neutral “– Sorrow Ventaxis. Tonight gives both candidates the chance to address the people, and present their vision for Rhannon. So without further ado, let us begin. Sorrow Ventaxis will speak first.”
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Sorrow.
She cleared her throat.
“Thank you for coming today. My name is Sorrow Ventaxis, and I believe I am the right choice to lead Rhannon forward as your next chancellor. The past eighteen years, and before, have been some of the most challenging in Rhannish history. I’ve been here with the people, living alongside them, under the same rules and laws. In fact, they’re all I’ve known. But not all I believe. My beloved grandmother, the Dowager First Lady, told me how it was when Rhannon prospered. When we were at the forefront of science and medicine on Laethea. When we celebrated the Greening, and the Gathering festivals, when we came together for midsummer and midwinter. But you, the people, have taught me that the Rhannish are some of the strongest – if not the strongest – in the world. I have seen you weather the many, many storms that have battered you over the past eighteen years, and not break. We are a resilient and adaptable people; there is no trial we cannot overcome, there is no burden we cannot bear. I am one of you.” Sorrow turned to the crowd. “I am bound to you, by history, and by blood. Now, I ask you to allow me to lead you into something better. Something more than the darkness of the past. A new Rhannon. For everyone.”
“Lies,” a male voice called from somewhere in the back.