Page 30 of Roma Queen
“She’s right. I never wanted to step into the shoes that were placed before me,” I say, moving a stride closer to the fire. Shelta continues to speak, ignoring me, telling people they should cast their stones into the bowl of the person they wish to vote for, but my voice, always so deep and resonant, a sometimes blessing and a sometimes curse, demands the attention of the people huddled together against the bitter wind.
One by one, faces turn to me, blank, angry, hopeful, irritated, and a burst of panic spears me through, all the way down to my boots.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I don’t know how to do this.
I don’t know if I can do this.
I feel the presence at my back, though, and I know I have to. For her. Zara, thegadjeI’m breaking all the rules for. She hasn’t stepped forward with me—she obviously knows that I have to stand apart for this. On my own two feet, proud and strong—but I feel her by my side all the same, ever-present and constant, the same way she has been in my dreams for such a long time.
Shelta sighs wearily. “Pasha, we all know our options here. Why don’t we try and get everyone inside before we all freeze to death?”
It’s my turn to ignore her now. “A lot of people I see before me here tonight share a family name with me. Shireen Rivin. Cleo Rivin. Boyd Rivin. Clara and Delia Rivin. Paige Rivin. Leo Rivin. But there are many of you with other family names. Among you, I see Tanners, Whites, Yancers, Birches and Youngs. It’s not our names that have brought us together to form this clan. It’s not even our blood, though most of us share at least a drop or two with one another. Once upon a time, we joined together out of necessity, for survival, to make sure we could withstand the challenges of race, creed and faith that seemed determined to crush us at every turn. We formed this strong family group because there was strength in numbers, and it was the easiest way to make sure our children grew up unafraid.”
Voices blur together as a rumble of agreement travels through the crowd. Shelta smiles. Just as Shireen’s did earlier, my mother’s eyes are shining brightly with emotion. “Thank the heavens. I’m so glad, Pasha. I am so glad to hear you say this, finally. Ever since Patrin told me you refused to come home and you wanted nothing more to do with us, I’ve been hoping and praying that you—”
“This clan hasalwaysbeen strong,” I call out. “Its members have always stood by one another, supporting one another. That’s what has united us and given the Rivin Clan backbone. But…” Finally, I lock eyes with Shelta. She’s tried to rob me of my voice since she came out here dressed in her regalia for two reasons. One: she doesn’t want to give me the opportunity to say something that might rally people to my side. Two: she doesn’t want to give me the opportunity to tell themwhat she’s fucking done. I will not be robbed of either of those opportunities. They’re my right, and there’s nothing Shelta can legitimately do to rob me of them.
Raising my voice, I glare at her as I project my words across the silent, wintery glen. “Three years ago, I was shamed in the clan’s eyes. I took another clan member’s life. Even though that man took something far more important from a number of our own children, my mother demanded I be sent away for three years to pay for my crime. This week, I found out that the man I was punished for murdering didn’t actually die. Shelta protected him. Had him cared for and nursed back to health. I was banished, and Lazlo went free, and all because my mother couldn’t bear the thought of giving up her position here with the clan.
“It was convenient for her that I be cast as a murderer in your eyes. An untrustworthy, loose cannon, who hurt and killed another member of the clan without evidence of any wrong doing. Therewasevidence, though. Plenty of it. Shelta refused to allow the affected members of the clan to speak at thekrisbecause she claimed they were all too young. Well, they’re not too young now.”
Angry murmurs flow through the crowd like rushing water over a rocky river bed. Shelta’s feigned compassion and benevolence slips as she claps her hands together, calling for everyone’s attention. “That matter was dealt with a long time ago, as you know all too well. You were sentenced, you were banished, and you served out your time here in Washington, fighting and scrawling on people with tattoo gun instead of doing something productive. That’s the end of it. We’ll not waste time dragging this nonsense out again just to satisfy your pride, Pasha. I willnotallow it.”
A voice goes up, loud and harsh. A man, somewhere near the back of the crowd. “Did you help him, Shelta? Did you give Lazlo help and save him?”
Someone else adds their voice, along with another question. “Did you stand against Pasha at thekrisand have him banished? Knowing Lazlo was alive?”
Relief hits me hard in the gut. I’ve been dreading this. As a whole, Rivin Clan members can be stubborn and a little deaf when they hear something they don’t particularly like. They’re asking questions, though, the right questions, and Shelta has to answer them, come hell or high water. If she lies now and she’s found out, her punishment will be equal to, if not worse than the one she doled out to me.
Shelta’s dark eyes are seething with fire as she pins me to the spot, baring her teeth. She knows she’s fucked. She can’t deny her actions if she’s been directly called out on them. She can’t obfuscate the truth or talk her way out of this one. I know it, and she knows it. Setting her chin, she raises her head defiantly, looking around at the gathered clan members.
“Sometimes, a leader has to make tough calls in order to protect her people. Sometimes it’s necessary to do something unsavory in order to maintain the peace. Yes, I knew Lazlo wasn’t dead. Yes, I helped him after he was found in the morning, dying of blood loss. I had him treated at a small hospital, where they gave him a blood transfusion and a series of surgeries to repair the considerable tearing to his large intestines and bowel. Injuries that my own son inflicted. I considered it my duty to atone for Pasha’s sins in whatever way I could, so I saved Lazlo’s life. To keep his blood from my son’s hands. To save him from the guilt of such a heinous crime. And now he’s trying to crucify me for looking out for his best interests? I won’t allow it. This conversation is over, Pasha. If you don’t stop talking, there’s going to be conse—”
“Did he rape those boys?” a woman cries from the back of the crowd. “You told us he was innocent. We all believed you.”
Shelta’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, gasping for air. “The boys were too young to stand at thekris, that’s true,” she says. “It was hard to know whether the children were telling the truth or making up fairytales to support Pasha’s claims—a man who they looked up to and admired.”
God damn her. How can she stand up there and say that,knowingthat those kids were brutally assaulted by the man? How can she defend the idea that Lazlo might be innocent even now, when sheknowsthat Lazlo’s recentlymurdereda little boy? God, what kind of monster is she?
I can’t contain my disgust any longer. I feel it spreading through my veins like a poison. “Shelta’s right. I did turn my back on you after my banishment ended. I didn’t want to come back here. Not because I didn’t love you all. I didn’t want to come back here because of the countless lies and manipulations we’ve all endured at Shelta’s hands. She is not atrueRivin. She doesn’t embody the unity and solidarity that makes this clan strong. She’d willingly sacrifice any one of you on the altar of power if she thought it’d earn her favor or help her achieve her goals. Her own sister is Lazlo’s captive, because Shelta castherout, too. Shelta’s own sins against this family are legion…and they are unforgivable.”
As I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what I’m about to say next, a strange sense of relief washes over me. I know the words burning on the end of my tongue are true. Life would be infinitely easier if they weren’t, but I feel it in my bones, and there’s no way of denying it. It’s as though I’ve had a steel-cast yoke around my neck for as long as I can remember, and finally the damn thing is crumbling to dust and drifting away on the breeze, freeing me to breathe properly for the very first time.
“I don’t expect any of you to vote for me to help Kezia. Even though it’s what we Rivins do—we look out for one another. I don’t expect any of you to vote for me because Cleo foresaw me sitting on the Roma throne thirteen years ago. I don’texpectany of you to vote for me foranyreason. Ihopeyou’ll vote for me tonight, because I’m trying to do what’s right, and because I’m sorry. I should have come back to you sooner. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. I should have been braver. I should have claimed the crown a long, long time ago and made sure you were all safe.”
My pulse is throbbing in my ears; the urgentthrum, thrum, thrumof my blood surging around my body is all I can hear. No one speaks. Forty Rivin Clan members all stare at me, the flickering reflection of the bonfire dancing in their eyes, and I can’t read a single one of them. I could have lied to them. Fabricated some elaborate story about why I didn’t come back as soon as the banishment was up. I could also have called Shelta a liar and claimed that I’ve always wanted to be crowned their king, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my mother, it’s that lying only poisons the well. You might be able to persuade people to drink from that well, but they will always be able to taste the deceit, and they’ll always suffer the consequences of slaking their thirst on half-truths and falsehoods.
I have no idea if telling the truth will be good enough to earn me the crown, but I know I’ve done the right thing. These people have been coerced, influenced and controlled for far too long now; it’s time they make a decision for themselves based on the bare, honest facts.
A sharp, cruel snap of laughter breaks the silence. “Well, you heard it for yourselves,” Shelta announces. “My son. Your would-be king. He just admitted that, up untiltoday, he didn’t want to be here. How he expects any of you to put your trust in him is just bewildering. He talks the good talk, but he doesn’t respect this clan. If he did, he wouldn’t still have thatgadjehere, intruding on our rituals and polluting our home.”
A figure emerges from the shadows, stepping into the light of the fire. It’s Cleo, bundled up in a coat, leaning heavily against her tall staff. “You lied to us all about your sister. Kezia was my friend, Shelta. She went out into the world, thinking I didn’t care about her.”
My mother’s scowl is bitter and vile. “What of it? She deserved no sympathy. She broke our laws.”
