Page 53 of Echoes of the Raven
“Thank you, Sara,” my sister says. “We value your… sacrifice.”
I know Amira well, and I can tell from the tone of her voice that she realizes the danger of this partnership too. She casts a sidelong glance in my direction, and I can’t tell whether she’s angry at me for allowing it to happen or grateful that, for now, it facilitates her plans.
Bishop Benedicto, the religious viewpoint of the council, clears his throat. “I apologize for not being in attendance during previous meetings,” he says, hands interlaced in front of him, the sleeves of his robe hanging wide. “I know I’ve missed much of the discussion, but I would like to take a moment to contemplate the humanitarian aspects of this project.”
I sit straighter in my chair, eager to hear what he has to say.
“In the history of our proud nation,” he continues, “with all due respect to Queen Amira, we have never endeavored to curtail the freedom of others.”
My sister’s fists tighten under the table, but she doesn’t interrupt him.
The bishop goes on. “Based on the church’s charitable enterprises, we estimate that there are over twenty thousand fae in Castellina alone. A holding compound for that number of people will be a challenge and will quickly become a burden to the crown.”
“Bishop Benedicto,” Amira says, “yes, your absence from previous meetings has certainly hindered your understanding of the council’s commitment to this project. We are more than willing to confront these issues in order to guarantee the safety of our people, including all citizens, members of the court,” at this, she pauses and glances toward Father’s portrait on the wall, “as well asthe clergy. It is only a matter of time before they make you their next target.”
“If the financial burden isn’t of concern to the council,” the bishop says, “I must appeal to your sense of compassion. No good can come ofthis, Queen Amira. Such an action will only brew animosity between our races. Moreover, an internment camp will inevitably create harsh conditions for its residents.”
The bishop is expressing my exact thoughts. Expectantly, I peer at Amira’s face, hoping to see a glimpse of understanding in her eyes, but she only seems to harden her resolve.
“No harsher than what they have created for our citizens with their unwarranted attacks,” she says. “They live in constant terror, always wondering if they will be next.”
Bishop Benedicto presses his hands together as if in prayer. “Those attacks are perpetrated by a small number of rebellious fae, Your Majesty. The vast majority are peaceful creatures, who toil every day to feed their families and contribute to our society.”
“I never took you for abatraciolover,” Ministro Eliseo Flores says. He is the minister of agriculture, a man with jowls the size of beehives.
The cleric’s gaze slowly swivels to Ministro Flores. “I love all creatures equally, good don.”
Ministro Flores rolls his eyes upward to express his skepticism.
“We have been trying to eradicate thatsmall number of rebellious fae, as you call them, for a long time,” Amira says. “We thought we had succeeded in destroying them, but the attack on Biblioteca de la Reina reminded us they’re unrelenting. They have regrouped and easily recruited new members. Every fae out there,” she points a hand beyond the walls that surround us, “is a potential enemy of our country, a future murderer.”
“Queen Amira, please. I—”
She lifts a hand. “We’ve heard your opinions, Bishop Benedicto, and they will be taken into account as we make our final decision. I think it’s time we vote.”
I sit there, my stomach in knots. Bishop Benedicto has spoken better than I ever could. He also carries the authority of the church, and Amirawas unmoved by anything he said. What could I add that would help change her mind? I’ve already tried and failed.
But her vote isn’t the only one that matters. Every minister present and every Plumanegra in attendance has to cast a vote. Maybe there’s something I can say to the others that will sway them in the right direction.
“Let’s proceed—” Amira starts, but I clear my throat, doing my best to control my nerves.
“I would like to address the council,” I say, my voice firm despite everything.
Beside me, Amira takes a deep breath, as if trying to draw patience from the air. “Much as Bishop Benedicto, you have been absent from crucial discussions. We don’t need to waste any more time dealing with those who are uninformed and unprepared.”
“As a council member, I have the right to address my equals,” I say, citing one of the main rules of the council, which she knows well.
She turns her hands over in a gesture of surrender, her expression signaling that it won’t matter what I say. No one will change their mind. I hope she’s wrong.
“We have to find another way,” I say.
Bishop Benedicto has tried to appeal to our coffers and compassion, but that didn’t work, so I have to try a different angle to approach the topic. I also need to wisely use what little time my sister might allow me.
“Many of the fae have espiritu,” I continue. “They will find a way to escape any security measures you place around them.”
Ministro Flores scoffs. “Good! Let them. Those are the ones we will take care of first.”
Bishop Benedicto’s eyes open wide and Condesa Juana Clavel lets out a little gasp behind her heavily ringed hand.
