Page 114 of Requiem of Silence

The man narrowed his eyes. Aggar rushed to stand. “It doesn’t matter. Our Singers will decide if they want to help or not. We will not make them if they choose no.”

“Many of our Singers are children,” Darvyn said. “They’ll need guidance on what to do. They look up to the Keepers, the ones who have been instrumental in feeding and clothing and educating them both here and in Lagrimar. You all can make a strong case if you choose to. The people will listen.”

Aggar crossed his arms combatively and Talida turned away, dismissing him. Darvyn’s blood began to steam and he tried to take solace from Zeli’s calm energy.

“We will discuss this further,” Turwig said, coming up behind Darvyn with Rozyl on his heels.

With a motion of his head, Darvyn pulled them both aside. “Who are they?” he asked, jerking his head toward the four rough-looking men he couldn’t recall ever meeting before.

Rozyl gritted her teeth. “Let’s go outside.” The four of them stepped into the weedy garden, and Rozyl waited until the glass door was completely shut before answering.

“Those four are emissaries of the Sons of Lagrimar.”

Darvyn reared back as if struck. “The terrorists? What? Why?”

“They used to be Keepers in the eastern mountains helping the miners. We’d lost track of them,” Turwig said ruefully. “It’s been over a year since any have checked in. We thought they might have been discovered working against the True Father and killed, but then after the Mantle fell they reappeared. And as you know, they were not pleased by our reception in Elsira.”

He took a deep breath. “They came to us a few days ago, requesting a meeting. The elders voted to grant it to them.”

Darvyn shook his head and Rozyl shrugged. “There’s… guilt among the Keepers,” she said, “where they’re concerned. Someoneshould have been sent after them to check on them. No one ever was.”

Turwig’s gaze went to the ground. “Things sometimes slipped through the cracks,” he said softly.

“Do the elders approve of their tactics? The attacks against Elsirans aren’t ingratiating us here,” Darvyn said.

Rozyl raised a brow. “Neither did being good, polite little refugees.”

Darvyn stared at her incredulously. She raised a hand. “I don’t approve of their tactics, either, but don’t act like they turned a receptive country against us. At a certain point, we do have to defend ourselves.”

“They used to be one of us. So did you.” While Turwig’s gaze couldn’t be considered accusatory, it was piercing nonetheless.

“Yes, and there’s many reasons I’m not anymore,” Darvyn said. “This type of thing is one of them. The very act of hearing them out is a betrayal.”

“There are some who would say that suggesting we put ourselves at risk to help Elsirans is one as well,” Rozyl hissed. “We’re in uncharted territory and we need to consider every option. We’re desperate. You know how that feels.”

Zeli shifted, catching his eye with her steady gaze. It was almost as if she’d used Earthsong on him, the building rage that felt like a brewing storm inside him subsided. He took a deep breath. “What do they want?”

“A seat at the table,” Turwig said. “They feel they’ve proven their loyalty to our people with their attacks. They want a voice in leadership.”

Darvyn ran his hands through his hair and looked at the gray sky, muttering a string of curses.

Rozyl sighed heavily. “There are many sympathetic ears amongthe elders. We think we’ll be outvoted and they’ll be given what they want.” She and Turwig shared a significant glance.

Through the glass wall, the others in the sitting room were engaged in vigorous debate. Darvyn wished he’d never come. Should he tell Jasminda and Jack of this new development? Did they need one more thing to worry about on top of everything else?

He blew out a breath.

“They’ll be gone by the time you get back to the palace,” Rozyl said. “I thought about telling her, too, but…”

“But what?”

“But after the vote tomorrow, we might not even be under her rule anymore.”

Darvyn shook his head. “You think the referendum will pass? You really think the Elsirans will eject us from the country?”

Rozyl’s dark gaze bored into him. “It’s not just the Elsirans who are voting for separation.”

The first drops of rain fell then, splashing onto Darvyn’s face—tears from the sky in place of his own.

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