Page 74 of Requiem of Silence

“You might not have as much choice about that as you think.”

She sighs deeply. In that motion she reminds you of your mother, a small woman with deep strength. You desperately wish that was enough, but it never has been. “If you were worried for me,” you say, “then I hope that your mind has been set at ease.”

The energy of the medallion wanes. It is a weak little thing, suitable for children and parlor tricks only.

“Stay safe, brother. Until I see you again.”

You chuckle. Her statement is ominous in its own way. “And you as well.” And then you allow the connection to wink out.

Her face is still familiar to you. Her voice even more so. You think back to those long days when you were in another cell and she would come to talk to you. Reminisce. Tell stories of days long past and people long dead.

It was nice. It felt a bit like…

But you can’t allow base sentimentality to step in. You squashed that long ago. Being human and mortal and powerless once again has made you soft. You must regain strength as soon as possible.

You will meditate, run through your memories until you find the thing that has been itching at your mind. The key needed for you to wrest control from the feeble, misguided zealots and return to your twin as promised.

On top.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The rich will find the hollow within

and seek to fill it.

The blessed will find the hollow without

and never rest til it is whole.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

Jasminda took the hidden passages from her office to the Indigo Drawing Room, located in what she called the Blue Wing of the palace as it also housed the Blue Library. She’d cleaned out all the cobwebs and dust with her frequent travel using these narrow, secret corridors. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see her enter or exit this particular meeting room.

When she arrived via a concealed door in the paneling, she found Nadette, Ilysara, Camm, and the rest of the small team Nadette had put together, seated at a large, round table, newspapersspread out around them. Everyone looked up when she entered and scrambled to their feet.

“Sit, please,” Jasminda said, waving them down. “The vote is in four days,” she announced unnecessarily to the somewhat wary faces turned toward her. “Where do we stand?”

Camm rose, but Nadette held out an arm to stop him. She had put these people together and oversaw their tasks. The woman stood and cleared her throat. “As I stated in the report I delivered to youthis morning,the media strategy is going well. It is meeting expectations. Our pro-unification editorials are being printed in all the papers except theRosira Daily Witness.The editor there is firmly pro-separation.

“But we have good traction in the others. We’re holding another poll tomorrow. And I have every confidence that we’ll continue seeing the uptick in those citizens who plan to vote for the unification.”

Jasminda nodded, not missing the somewhat aggrieved tone in the woman’s voice. Zann Biddel and the Reapers had managed to sway public opinion much further in a shorter period of time, but they were preying upon peoples’ prejudices and fears. Pleading the case to citizens’ better natures, appealing to their honorableness and love of humanity, was somewhat more difficult. The progress was much slower.

She had struggled with the language of the measure, needing it to truly represent the heart of both sides of this mess, even as it hurt her to do so. In just a few days, all Elsirans and Lagrimari in the country would vote on one of two options: grant full citizenship to all refugees from Lagrimar, or create a separate state within Elsira where the refugees would enjoy the full rights of citizenship. Outside of that district, however, they would be subject to the same treatment as any other foreigner—they’d need a visa totravel freely through the land, difficult-to-obtain work papers if they wanted to get a job. It would be a step up from what the settlers had endured for years, but not nearly enough.

She approached the table and bent over to read the fruits of their labor. The team had worked fast, placing editorials in amenable papers. Nadette’s morning report had included the fact that other editorial pieces, not originating from their media team, had begun showing up in newspapers as well. Regular folk reaching out in favor of including the refugees—exactly what Jasminda had hoped for.

“Thank you all for all your work,” she told the team. “I do appreciate it. And I don’t mean to be a bother, it’s just that this means everything to me. A vote for separation would tear my family apart. It’s very personal and I am, I admit, overly invested.”

Nadette sighed deeply. “I can’t know how you feel, but I promise you, we are all committed to this cause.”

Jasminda met the woman’s eye and smiled. “Thank you, I—”

The door to the meeting room opened, cutting her off. Zavros Calladeen, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, stood in the doorway staring down his nose at her.

“Your Majesty, might I have a word?” He sketched an almost infinitesimal bow.

The existence of this group in this meeting room was not common knowledge. The fact that Calladeen knew about it—and her presence here especially—was not good.

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