Page 115 of Sonnets and Serpents
“I was not the only one enraged by Pravusat’s deficiencies.” Kerem stepped up to the wall, touching one set of handwriting, then another. “Mazhar was orphaned by senseless violence, the attacker released from justice on a bribe. Havva lost his wife when the Nephew King burned a city for a crown. We’d all suffered, and we all hungered.”
“What was the dream?” Silas asked.
This time, he received a quick glance of approval, like he’d given the right answer in class. It made his heart ache more than his leg.
“A stable government.” Kerem unshuttered one side of the lantern, spilling new light. “An end to corruption.” He opened another side. “And the power to achieve it.” The final side.
The lantern glowed like a beacon in the dreary cavern.
With a hollow smile, Silas said, “I should have known it was a revolution. It’s Pravusat.”
Kerem smiled to match, as if they were sharing a joke. “To survive a viper’s den, you must be the bigger viper. There is no way to save this country from itself except by overwhelming power, and the greatest power resides in magic.”
“So you made an impossible Artifact—one that could steal and hoard magic—to set yourself up as king.”
“Dictator,” Kerem corrected. “Despot, perhaps. Let’s not be soft about the terms. I intend to pull this drunken country from the gutter, clean it by my own hands, andforceit to remain upright.”
“No regard to freedom.”
“I know the price of freedom,” he said sharply. “And I know when it’s undeserved.”
Silas shook his head. “Maybe so. But I’ve never believed anything good comes from unchecked power.”
Loegria’s monarchy had ruled without challenge for centuries, yet held an entire country in oppressive tradition.
Shifting, Kerem leaned against the table, his shadow long and dark beside him. “Imagine this, then. Imagine yourself back in the moment your father drew his sword.”
Silas tensed.
“You’re helpless. Death is approaching. Except—” Kerem lifted a finger. “When he swings, you catch the blade.”
Silas swallowed. “I can’t do that.”
“A Stone Caster could. Bend the metal or blunt the edge, your choice. Imagine it, Silas. Imagine staring into your father’s eyes and knowing hecan’thurt you, because you hold a power he can’t match.”
Despite himself, the image hung in Silas’s mind, rewriting the past. He felt the cold press of harmless metal against his hand, saw the shock in his father’s dark eyes. His worst memory, transformed.
And the emotion seizing his chest was no longer terror. It was empowerment.
Before Silas could dispel the dream, Kerem pressed on.
“Now imagine how much more you could do. Fluid Casting, Stone Casting, a dozen Affiliate links—all at your fingertips. Imagine walking into the palace unhampered, knowing that whatever you said, they would haveto listen. What message would you bring the monarchy?”
Silas gritted his teeth, reining in his mind even as it eagerly offered up a dozen lectures.
“You’re simplifying,” he ground out. Just because a problem could be solved by force didn’t make it the right solution.
Hypocrite, said his own mind. The first thing he’d done when meeting Eliza was threaten her with snakes. He’d made a show of power, even thought of himself as royalty, and relished the feeling that she could do nothing to stop him.
Silas winced.
Dictator. Despot.
He could understand what Kerem wanted to do and why. But there was still a disconnect in thehow.
“Explain the graveyard pattern to me,” he said. “The bodies of magic users buried by the kuveti. Tell me honestly—when your Artifact harvests magic, it kills, doesn’t it?”
Kerem grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes.”
