Rebellion

by Rachel White

  Naravi.

  "The prison," said Rallis thickly, stopping in the middle of another ugly, desolate hallway. He hated Jevell palace. "Naravi is on the north side of the citadel. Isn't he?"

  He could see from Lieutenant Taarq's expression that he was right. The prison was as far to the north as you could go, balanced precariously on the very edge of the citadel. If any of the northern side snapped off, it was guaranteed to fall.

  "We need to get Naravi—"

  "They won't let you," said Lieutenant Taarq immediately, stepping in front of him. "Even if the quarter wasn't under evacuation orders, they wouldn't let you in. And they certainly wouldn't let you walk out with him. Think, Rallis."

  "You think!" Rallis snarled, shoving him and growing angrier still when he only went back half a step. "You fucking—what am I supposed to do? Just let him die? Let him fall? I need to get him."

  "You can't." Lieutenant Taarq's voice cracked with frustration. "It's not—Exalted, it's not that I don't understand. I understand! But you wouldn't even be allowed near the prison. I'm telling you, there's no point in going there—"

  "I need to try—"

  "They'll have blocked off the entire quarter."

  "Are they going to evacuate the prisoners?" Rallis asked, and then, when Lieutenant Taarq only looked pained, "They aren't. Are they?"

  "They should."

  They should, because it was the right thing to do, but that didn't matter to many Jevites as much as it mattered to Lieutenant Taarq. If he were in charge of the prison, all the prisoners would be evacuated, Rallis knew—but he wasn't in charge. "They aren't going to."

  "I don't know."

  "But you don't think they will."

  "I think they're frightened," said Lieutenant Taarq. "This—this has never happened. The engine giving out…it's entirely unprecedented. If their officers are competent and their legionnaires are well trained, they'll keep their calm and evacuate everyone, including the prisoners. But…I don't know if that's the case. I couldn't begin to say."

  Footsteps from behind them made them both jump, but it was only some palace workers, hurrying by without noticing them. Still, the reminder that they weren't alone made Rallis feel uncomfortably exposed.

  Lieutenant Taarq seemed to feel the same. "Please," he said hoarsely. "Of course I understand. But you can't help your cousin. You're not Jevite and you're not an officer and you don't have the authority to remove him from the prison, even if they let you in. Which they won't. So please, come back to your room with me. You'll be safer there."

  When he began to walk, Rallis's body obediently followed, but his mind was still racing. "Can you do it?" he found himself asking.

  "Can I do what?"

  "Get Naravi out of prison. You're a Jevite officer." It was unfair, he knew, to even bring up such an idea—and he didn't know if he could go through with it, not if it meant sending Lieutenant Taarq to his death when the citadel collapsed—but the idea of Naravi alone and scared and falling filled Rallis with a kind of all-consuming mania.

  "I'm not going to. Rallis…" Lieutenant Taarq sighed. "I'm sorry. I know why you're asking, but I won't. I can't. I need to help you. I love you. I can't—I can't leave you here. My first priority is making sure you're safe. Your cousin…I'm sorry. I'm…"

  His voice broke. Ah, gods, Rallis wanted so badly to be angry with him. He searched inside himself for the incandescent rage, the fury and pain that he knew was boiling within his heart at how fucking unjust the world was but found only a dry exhaustion that tasted like bone dust.

  "I know," he said. "It's alright. I shouldn't have asked you."

  That wasn't what he meant, but he couldn't find the words to capture everything he did mean. He could only hope that Lieutenant Taarq would read his thoughts on his face and understand.

  Lieutenant Taarq touched his shoulder. "You can always ask me."

  They reached Rallis's rooms after an interminable journey filled with more shaking. As they neared the door, Lieutenant Taarq tensed, and Rallis saw why: there was a Jevite officer standing in front of it. For a moment, wild fear filled his head—he was being arrested, he was going to be accused of setting off the bombs, he would be executed immediately, without trial, as a warning to anyone seeking to hurt Jev—and then he recognized the ink-black hair, the proud, handsome feature and knife-straight posture.

  "Nasir!" Lieutenant Taarq strode forward and clasped Lieutenant Harn's arm. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. What happened? The moot hall is in chaos." Lieutenant Harn's dark eyes flicked briefly to Rallis. "They're saying Adesi rebels attacked the Suulsen."

  "Someone set off a bomb. I don't know more than that. They've targeted the Exalted engines too. I was going to make sure Rallis was somewhere safe and then go back to help Mican. His engineers are struggling."

  Lieutenant Harn nodded once, firmly. "I'll go with you."

  "Rallis," said Lieutenant Taarq, turning to him, "stay here. I'll be back soon. Until then—"

  Rallis seized Lieutenant Harn's arm, making him startle. "The northern engine was damaged. They think that the citadel is going to break. The north side is going to fall. My cousin is in prison, isn't he? If it falls, he'll die,"

  "What?" said Lieutenant Harn, looking from Rallis to Lieutenant Taarq.

  "Rallis—"

  "Naravi. He's going to fall. The citadel is going to break and they're not going to evacuate him."

  "The citadel is going to break?" He turned to Lieutenant Taarq. "Is that true?"

  "Mican thinks so."

  "Are they evacuating the quarter?"

  "According to Mican."

  "Are they evacuating the prison?"

  Lieutenant Taarq shook his head. "I don't think they have time. Nasir—"

  It was obvious the moment understanding clicked in Lieutenant Harn's mind. He rounded on Rallis. "Your cousin—"

  "Nasir—" Lieutenant Taarq said again.

  "He's trapped," Rallis cut in. "If he's not evacuated, he'll fall with the prison."

  Lieutenant Harn looked from him to Lieutenant Taarq, who sighed, deeply.

  "They're not going to want to let anyone into the area," he said. "You might not even get close. It might be too late. It might have already fallen. And I don't need to tell you how dangerous it is, but I'll say it anyway: you'll probably die."

  "I know."

  "If you're going to go, you should go now. Be careful. Be fast."

  "Please," said Rallis. "Please save him. Please."

  Lieutenant Harn gripped his wrist. "I'll save him," he said intently, and then he was disappearing into the smoke.

  Rallis sagged against the wall, drained of strength and aware of Lieutenant Taarq's eyes on him. Self-consciousness arrived belatedly—and shame. He had struggled with the idea of asking Lieutenant Taarq to save Naravi, but by Nur, it was easy to consign Lieutenant Harn to death. And he was Lieutenant Taarq's closest friend.

  "Should I not have told him?" he asked.

  Lieutenant Taarq shook his head. "He was always going to go. He never would have forgiven himself if he'd let your cousin die. Or me, if I'd stopped him." Clattering and shouts from an adjacent hall made him tense. "Please go inside. You'll be much safer."

  "I'm sorry. I don't want him to die."

  "I know. I'm not upset. I don't want your cousin to die, either. I—I think Nasir can save him." He swallowed convulsively. "I hope."

  "Lieutenant Taarq…"

  "It's not safe here." Lieutenant Taarq caught him by the shoulder and nudged him toward his room. "You should get inside."

  Rallis obediently went toward the door, overcome with an exhaustion that settled deep into his bones. Lieutenant Taarq lingered in the hallway. He hadn't come into Rallis's quarters since the night of the party. He wanted to—Rallis was certain of it—but he was nervous or felt guilty. He was overthinking things, as he always did, and sabotaging himself. Even now, he was doing it instinctively. If they lived through this, Rallis would tell hi
m that.

  Gods, he was tired. If he closed his eyes, he could fall asleep against the wall. But despite his weariness, something was catching in his mind, an uncomfortable sensation like a hangnail dragging against cloth. His thoughts kept going back to the trial—not the explosion, but the trial itself, the debate among the Suul.

  Something didn't quite fit. The suggestions brought up during Naravi's trial all made sense, but there was a jagged dissonance that Rallis couldn't quite place. The whole situation seemed too neat: Suul Dayne dying in Suul Thrun's arms, clinging to life just long enough to gasp out a detailed account of his murder. Could such a scene really occur? It felt more like something out of the theater.

  More, Lieutenant Harn had said—he had stormed in, all fire and fury, and Rallis had been too distracted by his appearance to really note his words, but he had definitely said—

  He stilled in the doorway, a peculiar coldness seeping out through his chest. "How did Suul Thrun know what Suul Dayne said before he died?"

  "What?" Lieutenant Taarq frowned at him, more confused than frustrated. "I don't know if this is the time—"

  "He said that Suul Dayne spoke to him before he died. He accused Naravi of attacking him. But Lieutenant Harn said that Suul Dayne died instantly. So how could Suul Thrun hear him?"

  He felt the moment Lieutenant Taarq understood. "He lied," he murmured. "Or Nasir was wrong. But I'm more inclined to believe the former."

  "He lied to blame Naravi." A memory welled to the surface of Rallis's mind, disregarded, half-forgotten: Naravi saying, impatiently, Jev is doing this. They're making it look like the rebellion is violent because it gives them cause to crush us. And again, in prison, he had said the same thing: Suul Thrun knows perfectly well who killed Suul Dayne. They set it up.

  It had seemed like foolishness. "They needed a reason to subdue Adesa and they created one. It's just as Naravi said." It would have been easy for Suul Thrun or one of his allies to plant the bomb in the moot hall, and Suul Thrun had made himself scarce just before the explosion. Rallis thought of the golden-haired Suul, ferociously loyal, staring in incomprehension at his bleeding stump. Suul Thrun had left him to die, as he had left all his supporters. And Suul Dayne—

  "What do you mean?" Lieutenant Taarq asked.

  "I think Suul Thrun did it," Rallis told him. "All of it. He planted the bomb, and he killed Suul Dayne. He's been trying to make the rebellion look dangerous because then the Suulsen will vote against us. He wants…he wants to seize Adesi lands."

  Because that was what it came down to, wasn't it? Not morals or ideals or political passion: Suul Thrun wanted the land that he felt was rightfully his, the land currently owned by Adesi Houses.

  Lieutenant Taarq's expression turned grim. "Stay here. I'm going to try and find the Empress. Suul Thrun might not be done yet, especially since the engines are still standing."

  But as he began to walk off, Rallis followed. "I can't stay here."

  "Rallis—"

  "I can't. Naravi is my cousin. This is my family, my city, my country he's trying to harm. I can't hide in my room and wait for it to be over." He didn't know how to put into words the things he was trying to say; all he could do was will Lieutenant Taarq to understand. "I know it will be dangerous, and I know you want to keep me safe. But I'm part of this, and I can't just let it happen around me. So I'm coming too. I'm the rebellion leader, aren't I?"

  Lieutenant Taarq gazed at him for a long moment, and then smiled—so fond and familiar, it made Rallis's throat ache. "You are," he murmured. "Very well. Then let's go."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It wasn't until they had reached the great doors of the empress's private quarters that Rallis realized he had no idea what he intended to do.

  In the moment, it had felt like the right choice: Lieutenant Taarq was important to him, and Rallis wanted to be there for him, even if there was little he could help with. And he was the rebellion leader, in name if not in reality, and that meant something too. Rebellion leaders didn't hide in their rooms while their lovers leapt into danger.

  So he had insisted on accompanying Lieutenant Taarq, but now Lieutenant Taarq was approaching the doors and Rallis was adrift. He couldn't protect the empress. He didn't have the skills or training to fight off her attackers, and he didn't have any kind of innate sense of threat. The most he would do was get in Lieutenant Taarq's way.

  When Lieutenant Taarq pushed on the door, it swung slowly inward, unresisting. He frowned. "Be careful." The words were hardly a whisper. "Stay behind me."

  He nudged the door open more fully. The apartment on the other side was infinitely larger and more lavish than Rallis's quarters or even the rooms back at the motherhouse. To one side, a set of heavy couches and armchairs rested on polished parquet flooring, while across the room, arching balcony windows with expensive silk curtains overlooked a sprawling garden. Elaborate sculptures and ornaments more expensive than anything Rallis had ever owned were scattered among the luxurious furniture. Large landscape paintings hung on the walls and rich carpets covered the floor. Everything that wasn't gold was shimmering pearl or emerald or sapphire or ruby.

  At their feet, just inside the door, two of the empress' private guard lay dead, the fronts of their uniforms sodden with blood.

  Everywhere he looked, the opulent elegance of the room was marred by violence. More figures lay scattered around, draped over furniture and slumped against the wall: legionnaires and attendants and a few unfortunate members of the empress's council. The air was heavy with the smell of blood and the acrid tang of pulse smoke. Everything was eerily, uncannily silent, the only sound the hideous groaning and rumbling of the citadel.

  Lieutenant Taarq stilled and held up a hand. With his gun, he indicated the doorway on the far side of the room. There was more blood spattered on the wall nearby, and smoking holes in the marble doorframe where pulse shots had struck. Drapes veiled their view through the door, but Rallis could hear faint noises.

  "You ruined—"

  Rallis recognized the voice; a glance at Lieutenant Taarq showed he did as well. The curtains did nothing to obscure that familiar venomous tone.

  "Step back," said another voice, cool and crisp. He recognized that one too and felt something turn over in his stomach. Beside him, Lieutenant Taarq's finger brushed the trigger of his pulse.

  "Stay here," he said to Rallis, hardly audible. "I'll see—"

  "Be silent," said the first voice, more sharply. "This is your fault."

  Lieutenant Taarq stepped through the curtain, raising his gun as he moved. As the fabric billowed, Rallis caught a glimpse of the tableau: Suul Thrun and Empress Laiaraina, facing one another across Jevite pulses.

  "Don't move," Lieutenant Taarq said.

  In the other room, someone—no doubt Suul Thrun—made a noise of incoherent rage. "You—what are you doing here?"

  Rallis pushed back the drapes until he could see through to the other side. There was nothing he could do, no help he could contribute, so the sensible thing to do was stay out of Lieutenant Taarq's way, but he couldn't abide not even seeing. The helplessness was crushing.

  "Put your gun down, Suul Thrun," Lieutenant Taarq commanded. "Think about what you're doing."

  Suul Thrun's lip curled. "Who do you think you are, lieutenant? Speaking to me as though I'm one of your legionnaires. Don't move!" he added as Lieutenant Taarq took another cautious half-step forward. "Move and I shoot her."

  Empress Laiaraina's eyes narrowed. Her finger hovered over the trigger of her gun. Since Lieutenant Taarq had said nothing about her being regularly armed, Rallis assumed she had taken it off the corpse of one of her guards in a last, desperate attempt to protect herself. But that meant she was inexperienced with the mechanisms and unprepared to use it against another person. Could she actually bring herself to take a shot?

  "I'm not going to move." Lieutenant Taarq's own pulse was still pointed at Suul Thrun's chest, but he seemed disinclined to fire. Whether it was
because he didn't know if he could do it before Suul Thrun hit the empress, or because he didn't want anyone else to die that day, Rallis didn't know. "Listen to me. It's over. What do you think you're going to accomplish by killing the empress?"

  "I'm not the one who will have killed the empress. The Adesi rebels will."

  "This is madness," said Lieutenant Taarq. "No one will believe you. Even if they might have accepted that Citizen Yy or his associates were responsible for the explosions, how could anyone believe they killed the empress? It's just not plausible. Even if you shoot all of us, no one will accept it."

  "Be quiet," Suul Thrun snarled. He wasn't listening. Rallis wasn't sure he could: anger and panic had taken over his mind, sinking their claws into him and subsuming his good sense. He was in too deep now to get out, and so he was committed to seeing this through to the end. "This is your fault as much as anyone, traitor. It was disgraceful to see the way you panted after that Adesi."

  Lieutenant Taarq was as serene in the face of that insult as a priestess of Nur. He may have struggled in politics, but in times of adversity, Rallis would choose him over any other ally. "Suul Thrun, please listen to me. There's still time to stop this. Let the empress go. We can all walk out of here."

  "Walk out of here to what?" Suul Thrun demanded. His voice cracked on the last word. "To charges of treason and murder? Exalted, do you think I'm a fool? Step back."

  "But what does this get you? If she dies, it will be chaos. The Suulsen will have to decide on her replacement—"

  "Laair Kerreq is a suitable replacement," said Suul Thrun. That was another name Rallis had heard in passing: a cousin of the empress, whose sentiments leaned much more strongly toward Jev than Empress Laiaraina's did. But he didn't live in the capital, and contributed little to politics, as far as Rallis knew.

  Empress Laiaraina's eyes narrowed. "Laair is not in line for the throne. He was disinherited four years ago. You couldn't bring him before the Suulsen as a candidate."

  Rage contorted Suul Thrun's face. "I can do what I want," he snarled, gesturing harshly with his pulse. "Laair is a better candidate than you, you Adesi-loving traitor. Your father would be ashamed of what you've done in your reign."