Page 108 of Vilest Things
His world turns white. He sees a terrible bright light, as though a pantheon of gods might reach through the haze at any moment and haul him up.
Galipei’s eyes roll into the back of his head.
Then, nothing.
Two things occur to August in tandem.
First, Galipei is alive, but he needs a doctor immediately.
Second, Calla cannot be seen by San-Er with the crown on her head.
“Take him into the city now,” August spits. “There’s one carriage.Go!”
He sends three Weisannas off with Galipei, numbers that he should not be sparing during an attempted coup. August can’t fathom this. Calla has no forces. No soldiers. Nothing that comes close to constituting an army.
But she has the crown, and August has only ten remaining guards.
Calla is almost out of sight, running for the far building. Makusa. He’s still in there.
“Your Majesty,” one Weisanna exclaims, “should we surround the building? She’s going for Anton Makusa.”
“No,” August answers immediately. Fuck.Fuck. “Get to San-Er first. Guard the wall. We’re keeping herout.”
CHAPTER 38
Anton dreams of Calla surrounded by fire.
It’s a restless sleep. One where he’s right on the cusp of waking, fighting to surface while the dream holds him by the ankles. He reaches out his arm. His fingers brush the red-hot flames. The thick smoke floats up to form the clouds. There’s the distant crash of the sea too, its waves rising higher against the rocks. If they don’t move soon, the tide is going to take them. Ships loom on the horizon, pressing closer. It’ll trap them with no route out.
Turn around,he wants to say.Calla, turn—
“Wake up.”
Anton jolts out of sleep, his eyes flying open. His world is unbalanced. Some result of the dream, he’s sure, but even as he rockets upright, reaching for Calla’s elbow while she hovers over him, his sense of reality feels hazy.
“What’s going on? Where did you go?”
“We’re leaving.”
Calla takes shape before him while he adjusts to the dark room. Her yellow eyes, her pink mouth. Her crown, bleeding metal down her forehead and clinging to her hair as though she had been born with it fixed onto her head.
“Shit, Calla. What gives?”
She offers a small smile. It is far from the appropriate time, but he’s taken aback by the sight, that they are in the midst of what must be an active revolt on Calla’s part and she affords this gesture at him. If there’s anything about Calla Tuoleimi that he loves and despises in equal measure, it’s that she’s impossible to read.
“You wanted this.”
“I didn’t realize you’d actthissoon.”
“It was now or never. I couldn’t let August tell lies to San-Er first.” She turns over her shoulder, inspecting the open door. He thought it a remnant of his dreams, but there really is shouting coming from around the base. “I’m willing to bet he’ll focus on keeping us out of the city and leave few guards behind. We might be able to get there before he situates himself fully.”
Anton is barely blinking back the sleep in his eyes. Calla hauls him to his feet, and he shoves on his boots, pulls a jacket over his shoulders. An alarm screeches down the hallway as they hurry out, looking up and down to find empty corridors in both directions. They make it all the way outside the building. The sun floats directly above the horizon, an angry red ball that has been plucked from its hiding nook. A crossbow bolt flies directly toward them.
Before Anton can think to move, the bolt freezes on its own at the peak of its arc. It clatters to the ground. Calla watches it roll away.
“I wasn’t aware you could do that,” Anton remarks casually. The rapid clicks of other crossbows being loaded echo through the scene. Calla doesn’t look concerned.
“It’s the crown,” she says. “Reach down.”
