Page 63 of Requiem of Silence

“But you yourself have never served. Didn’t choose to join the army and help defend the land, did you?”

He looked away, unsettled. Ashamed.

“Oh, forgive me, I forgot. You tried to, didn’t you? But were deemed unfit for service. What was the cause again? I reviewed your files but I think it’s slipped right out of my head.” His anger built, adding more fuel to her own inner fire. He did not answer.

“Seizures, was that it? An affliction you’ve suffered from since childhood. You know, I read once that Udlanders have unique nutritional requirements due to generations living in such harsh climates in the icy north. Their bodies have adapted amazingly, but when they travel and are denied specific nutrients only found in their land, their bodies have a very severe reaction.” She tapped her lips. “A pity your mother never told you that.”

And just like that, he snapped. Rage filled his eyes and he stood up sharply, sliding his chair back with the force of his motion. It clattered as it fell. They were about the same height, and she had nothing to fear from him physically even without his shackles. The fact that the mother who had abandoned him as ababy was a foreigner, an Udlander no less, pejoratively called Icemen and thought to be little more than barbarians, was something Biddell kept well-hidden. To the outside world he was an Elsiran patriot, a nationalist, and a leader.

The door to the room opened but she waved off the armed agents. Once it closed again, she clasped her hands on the table calmly. “My mother is a sore spot for me as well. It’s unfortunate, is it not, to grow up without one.”

He looked like a bull, breathing through his nose, face red, sweat dotting his forehead and upper lip. Slowly, he calmed himself. She sensed him reel in his murderous impulse toward her. She could only imagine the names he was calling her in his mind, the many ways he dreamt of ending her life, but his lips didn’t open.

He righted his chair, and pulled it back to the table, then took his seat. His breathing was still somewhat labored but he was once again composed. “The loss of a mother is a tragedy,” was all he said.

“Certainly.”

“And no, Your Majesty, I never had the privilege to serve my country in the military. I found other ways.” His emotions shifted so abruptly that her breath caught. The rage not just muted, but gone, tucked away out of reach and replaced again by insolence. “You know we do have something in common, you and I. We both came from humble beginnings, but whereas I have found my way amongst the common man, you have moved on to much loftier circles. Appointed queen, even before you married the king. Had you not married, would you have ruled together?”

She wasn’t sure what he was leading to, and spoke carefully. “Yes. It was an unusual occurrence, but the Goddess had the right to name Her successors. She named us both, independent of our marriage.”

“King Jaqros of course comes from the line of rulers. AnAlliaseen has sat upon the throne since the days when the Queen Who Sleeps was originally awake.” A strange smile played upon his lips. “But an ul-Sarifor? Am I saying that correctly?” He was not, but she didn’t bother to correct him. “What was the precedent? The reasoning?”

She breathed in deeply. “I know you do not follow the Goddess Awoken, but She does everything for a reason.”

“I’m sure She does. And the reason to elevate an ignorant child to the highest leadership in our land? An inexperienced, Borderland bumpkin full of witchcraft and foreign blood? It makes me wonder how five hundred years of sleep has affected the poor Goddess’s mind. I fear incompetence at best, treachery at worst.”

Jasminda’s jaw clenched. “Treachery?”

He spread his hands as far apart as he could. “She is the sister of the True Father, is She not? I’ve heard whisperings. Their shared blood must be tainted, else how could one be so evil and the other retain goodness? No, I think that She awakened and saw a land vastly changed and sought to destroy it. How better to do that than install an unfit, unqualified leader? A reckless, foolish girl with no idea what she’s doing who is already leading us into ruin. Drought, embargo, hunger, lawlessness, protests—all under your watch. All of which you have done nothing to help or prevent. Tell me, why doyouthink She made you queen? Because of all of your experience and mastery?” His laugh was cruel, it edged into the doubts within her heart, watering the poisonous seeds almost lovingly. They drank it up.

She lifted her chin. She had often wondered the same thing, asked Oola more than once, but gotten nothing but vague platitudes in response. Yes, she was a child of two lands, and yes, she represented the unification bodily, but was that the reason she was queen? Was that enough?

Some of her feelings must have bled through into her expression, for Zann Biddell was suddenly brimming with smug joy. This made her hands fist. She needed only a trickle of power to keep tabs on Biddell’s emotions, but she filled herself with more and more, relishing the feeling of it rushing within her, powering her.

The self-satisfied expression on his face made her ill.Hemade her ill. This murderous xenophobe with the silver tongue who had brought so many over to his cause. He must be stopped and it was clear that even in the face of his lies being exposed, he would not confess.

She suspected he had allies within the Intelligence Service, Elsirans who believed as he did and bowed to her face but worked in secret behind her back. The former director himself had poisoned her, after all. It would be foolish to assume that the man’s disappearance had cleared out the supporters of his ideology from the organization.

She pulled Earthsong to her, far more than she needed, but enough to fill her Song. The self-important, smarmy, son of a hog needed to be stopped. His reign of terror, provoking people to violence and hatred and fear, could not continue. Maybe he should feel what real witchcraft could do. Maybe he should feel a bit of what he was inspiring in others.

Oola was able to manipulate the emotions of others, to send Her thoughts to Singers and Silent alike, along with specific desires. Daryvn looked down on the practice, called it unethical puppetry, but Oola didn’t seem to care. Jasminda was a bit past caring herself, especially with this cretinous excuse for a human in front of her.

She narrowed her eyes, wondering exactly what it would take to wipe that grin from his lips. She couldn’t hurt him with her Song, couldn’t open wounds on his skin or steal the breath fromhis lungs. Life energy didn’t work like that. But she could share her own pain.

She thought of life growing up in her valley and pushed away the joy at the memories of her childhood, when her whole family was together, Mama and Papa, the twins always underfoot, Varten peppering them with constant questions about everything under the sun and how it all worked. Roshon quieter, rarely smiling and far more serious, but never far from his brother. She tucked those memories into a corner of her mind and focused on the others.

Traveling to town for supplies. The cutting looks and remarks. She had been just a child when a runaway horse had trampled another girl about her own age. Jasminda had run over to help, healing broken bones and internal injuries, or at least making them better, since her Song had been too weak back then to completely fix someone. The shrieks of the girl’s mother shouting about witchcraft echoed in her mind. The hurt and shame as she withstood the tongue lashing before her father rushed over to take her away. These were the feelings she pushed to Zann Biddel.

The ache of loneliness and grief, the deep sadness at watching her brothers make friends easily as long as she stayed away. The sorrow etched into her mother and father as they witnessed injustices they were powerless to stop. Folk crossing the street to avoid her. Leaving a store when she entered. Accusing her of stealing. Cleaning whatever she’d touched. The fear and disgust wafting from them as she tried to live her life.

She magnified the emotions, years and years of abuse in one concentrated burst, and funneled them all to Biddell at once. Her gaze was inward so she didn’t witness his lips flatten. Didn’t see him shudder at the potent force driving into him.

His body began to shake, but she didn’t stop. She was charged full of anger; reliving the old pain broke the callus she’d formedaround the feelings. They all poured out. Tears streamed down Zann Biddell’s cheeks. He made sounds of distress. His eyes rolled up in his head. He began to seize and shudder. He fell from his chair onto the ground.

Focused as she was on driving hurt after hurt into him, she barely noticed his distress. It was only when the door crashed open that it truly registered. Agents rushed in to tend to the quaking man on the floor, foam and blood frothing around his mouth. Still, her eyes were open but her mind remained elsewhere.

A pinch above her elbow drew her back to the present. She whipped her head around to find Camm standing next to her, face long and grave. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It appears Master Biddell is experiencing a seizure. We should leave while the physician attends to him.”

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