The Needle's Edge.
Gazda, Erydia.
Sunday.

I'd seen Kinsley use her ability before, but it had been her against another goddess-touched girl. The fight hadn't necessarily been fair—I wasn't sure arena fights could ever be considered exactly fair.

But it had been two girls with goddess-given abilities fighting. They'd both had advantages and disadvantages. They'd both had a chance to surviving.

This was not the case.

Harper thrashed as vines cracked from the earth of the arena. Her gaze, which had been locked on Kinsley, turned from challenge to raw fear as one of the plants snaked up her torso and twisted, snake like, around her neck. She tried to knock it away, but more vines just appeared, locking her in place. More encircled her bound arms, gripping her so tight that she cried out.

There was a sound—the pop of a microphone—and then Kai's voice, muffled and angry. "Stop. I said: stop!"

The camera changed to the royal balcony, just for a split second, just long enough to show guards converging on Kai. Caine said something to them and moved to block the microphone from Kai.

Kai shook his head and tried to say something else, but then he was being pulled back by guards. He threw a punch. Then the camera was off of him and focused on the arena. As if it had been imagined.

"Holy hell," Heidi murmured. "Did—Did you see—"

I nodded.

On the screen, vines had wrapped around Harper's neck so tightly her face seemed to have changed colored—even with the black and white screen, I could see the way her eyes widened, see how she struggled to breath around the gag. The crowd was murmuring now, loud enough that I could hear it.

Off to one corner of the screen, the people in the stands were all looking towards the royal box. But Kai didn't speak again, and even Caine remained silent as Kinsley continued her slow circling.

Amidst the whispered and turned heads, some spectators were calling for blood. Suffocation wasn't what they wanted. It wasn't the brutal killing of an arena fight. At the sound, Kinsley's mouth pressed into a grave line, her brows furrowed. With the casual wave of her hand, the vines began encircling Harper further, covering her entire torso in thin, green tendrils.

She tried and failed to twist out of that tight grasp, but she was trapped. There was nowhere to go, no way for her to defend herself. Harper's struggling became frantic as tendrils of vine began pushing into her eyes and nose. Her screams could not be heard over the roaring of the arena, but they were no less real.

Nadia's voice was soft as she said, "I...I truly hope Jaxon can't see this."

Kinsley smiled, pleased with herself.

Blood began oozing from Harper's nose and her struggling turned different—the movements of her body less voluntary. She was twitching more than fighting. More blood stained the gag in her mouth and she slumped slightly. Her head fell forward as the vines slithered into her ears and eyes.

I pressed a hand to my mouth as I tried to keep my eyes on the screen—but it terrible. Violent and unnecessary. Kinsley stepped forward and crouched so she was eyelevel with Harper. The reporter did not look up, she didn't even seem to notice Kinsley was there.

Even as Kinsley's hand fisted in the girl's red hair and yanked her head back, Harper did not flinch. Her eyes were wide and staring—but she was lost to reality. I hoped that meant she didn't feel pain anymore.

I hoped it meant that she didn't feel Kinsley tug the gag down. I hoped she wasn't present in her body as the vines wove their way into her mouth, more of them shoving into her nose. Blood dripped down the vines that still strangled her torso. It ran in rivulets down her cheeks like tears.

Behind me, I heard someone leave the room and then the sound of retching from the adjoining bathing room. Nadia's grip on my wrist was tight enough to crush bone.

She shook her head. "This—It should be stopped. No one deserves this."

Watching Kinsley's expression, I could think at least two people who deserved more than this. If this Kinsley's form of justice, then I would give her the same. And Caine would get far worse.

Harper had gone still now, her body held up only by the vines. From the angle of the camera and the sheer amount of vines, I couldn't tell if she was breathing. Kinsley still crouched in front of her, her hand still caught in Harper's hair.

I remembered the fight with Joslyn and how Kinsley had used vines to snap the other goddess-touched girl's neck. I couldn't tell if she'd done the same to Harper, but I hoped she was dead already. I hoped that it was over for her.

The crowd was still yelling, still cheering. The camera pulled back to reveal more of the arena—more of the crowded stands. People were on their feet now. Kinsley released Harper's hair and her head flopped forward onto her chest.

My eyes burned and I had to work to swallow down the bile in my throat.  When I turned around, I found Cohen still standing there, his own eyes wide. Tavin was slumped in the doorframe behind him, his brown skin unnaturally pale.

I was still looking at them, trying to calm my racing heart, as a noise broke through the thunder of the arena. The sharp crack of a gunshot.

I spun, my eyes finding the screen just as the camera seemed to tremble and shift—the image darting back and forth between two views, a zoomed-out view of the arena and a close up shot of the royal box. It was as if whoever was directing the cameras, wasn't sure what to do—or as if the cameras were glitching.

Cohen stepped up to the back of the couch, his body a warm presence next to mine. I flinched as another gunshot sounded, people in the stands of the arena was pointing and screaming, some ducking down and cowering in their chairs. I opened my mouth to ask what was going on and then I saw it—the gun in Kai's hand. A third shot sounded and the camera shifted again—this time settling on the arena just as dirt flew up, only a few feet from where Kinsley stood. She was looking up at the royal box, her mouth parted in shock.

People were yelling, screaming, panicking. Some spectators had begun stampeding towards the exits, trampling one another in their haste to get away. I realized then that not everyone realized what was happening. They knew there was shooting—but only a few people in the crowd could tell where the bullets had come from. But if you were near enough to the royal box—or watching the public broadcast—then you knew.

Kai had shot at the queen.

Heidi let out a laugh. "Well it's about damn time, Callahan!"

Next to me, Cohen's breathing had turned shallow. His voice was tight as he said, "Look."

Caine was in a panic—no longer able to control the picture he'd painted. Kai was already being hauled out of the stands by guards. The gate of the arena was open again and more guards converged on Kinsley, their presence protective and not the rough, controlling force that had swallowed the king. She was escorted from the arena, leaving Harper's body slumped in a pile of vines.

Dead.

It was clear she was dead now. Her eyes were wide, unseeing. Her mouth was filled with vines—but it was clear she'd been trying to scream around them. Wherever Jax had ended up, I prayed he hadn't seen the broadcast.

I hoped that he couldn't see the way the camera's zoomed in on Harper's mangled body instead of focusing on the panicked crowd of the arena. She'd been an example before, a threat of what the Crown would do to the members of this rebellion if they were caught. But now, now she was a distraction from what Kai had just done.

The screen went blank. The broadcast ending so abruptly, I could barely process it.

The room was silent.

After a long moment, Cohen ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. "That—Caine can't lie his way out of that. People—Erydia saw that. Goddess," those blue eyes darted to me. "The king just tried to kill the queen."

I didn't look at him. I couldn't. I felt like I was out of my body. My bones seemed hollow; each breath too tight. My throat burned as I swallowed—caught somewhere between wanting to sob and wanting to cheer. He'd done something.

Kai had done something.

Publicly.

Holy shit.

"What—" My voice broke and I shook my head, trying to push past the sudden fear welling in my chest as I asked, "What do you think Caine will do to him?"

Cohen sighed. "I honestly don't know. You've got more experience with him than I do. What do you think he'll do?"

If I were still there, Caine would killed me. He'd have me killed and he'd make Kai watch. He'd probably let Kinsley do it. Make it just as violent and terrible as what we'd just witnessed. Because he couldn't kill Kai. He needed him too much.

But there was no one in the palace for him to hurt anymore. Not me or Anna. Not Ruthie.

So, I didn't know what Caine would do.

Cohen's hand found my shoulder and he gave it a firm squeeze. "I'm going to go check and see if they need help moving things from the print shop. I've heard them talking, so they've been coming in and out but..." He stepped back and glanced to where Nadia stood.

Her brown eyes were wide, filled with a million muddle emotions. "Please be careful."

He ran a hand through his hear and headed down the stairs, calling after himself, "Always."

***

That night the city burned.

The guards arrived at the print shop less than half an hour after our people had finished moving the most damning information into The Needle's Edge. They set the building on fire—broke the glass from the windows and threw torches inside. A building filled with paper burned easy. I could feel the pulse of it—feel the growing surge of those flames—as they ate away at everything Harper had built.

Her father's print shop, and her grandfather's before that. A legacy burned to ash. Burned until it was only a brick shell, the roof caved in. The staircase where I'd sat with her was gone.

Now, the storage room of the seamstress's shop was stacked with wooden crates filled with printed issues of the The Hare. Rolled maps with marked drop-off locations and safe-houses littered tables and mattresses.

Caine hadn't bothered to have the printshop searched—maybe he'd believed he'd have time after Harper's execution. Maybe he just didn't care. More than likely, he just didn't know the rebel paper existed and didn't consider the print shop a threat.

"Harper knows how to hold her tongue," Birk told me.

We sat at the table, warm bowls of stew before us. Everyone was quiet, no one knowing what to say. Mim had made dinner and brought it down to us, lingering longer than she usually would to sit in that mourning silence with us. A death watch for a girl who was already long gone.

Birk cleared his throat, as if that could banish the sadness in his voice as he said, "She wouldn't have told him anything. Not about the rebellion. She'd've taken that to the grave with her. It's the sort of person she was. She was...Harper was brave as hell. As good as any soldier."

Mim nodded, looking somehow older than she had hours ago. "She deserved better than what she got, that much is for certain."

And that was all that was said.

The day turned to night, but the silence amongst us remained. Outside, the city burned. While we had managed to get the maps and papers out of the print shop, Caine had still managed to find three of the smaller safe-houses—he killed nearly fifty rebels. Those buildings burned too, turning the sky of Gazda orange—filling the air with smoke.

But it wasn't just Caine's fires that burned.

Em had returned with news that there were people rioting in the streets, demanding answers from the Crown. Those people pillaged and burned. They cracked storefront windows and burned businesses. The city guards tried to stop them but it no good. This had spiraled into something far larger than anything they could handle.

Cohen, Dellacov, and I stood in the alleyway outside The Needle's Edge, carefully hidden from sight, and watched as Erydian soldiers rushed past. Even from this distance, I could feel the heat of the fires blazing. Harper's print shop was in embers at our backs—half the block surrounding it also in flames.

Em had spent most of the time since she'd returned pacing in front of the shop display window, fretting over what she'd do if the store caught fire too. What would she do if the rioters broke through her windows?

Before I'd come outside, I'd told her that I'd keep any fire at bay. But there was nothing I could do to keep the anger of Erydian citizens from being aimed at Em—or her aunt. It no longer mattered that she was innocent in this. The outraged of our people was untethered, unwieldy even in the grasp of those acting on it.

All they wanted was to be heard.

Whatever that took.

And so Gazda burned.

When we returned to the safe-room, most everyone had already gone to bed and those who hadn't were sitting quietly in small groups, their conversation hushed. The crackle of the heater fire was the loudest sound as my boots hit the stone floor at the bottom of the ladder. 

I was surprised to see that Jaxon was back. I wasn't sure when he'd returned, but there he was. He sat with head in his hands, his eyes closed, an untouched cup of tea set before him. I sank into the chair next to him, but didn't say anything.

What could be said?

What would I want to hear if Kai had just been killed—tortured and then viciously murdered in front of a crowd, for sport? I didn't know. I'd never known what should be said after the Culling trials either. Those girls had died brutally as well, but it hadn't been like this. Even Joslyn's fight with Kinsley had been well-matched.

What had happened to Harper wasn't anything like that. And there were no words to describe the travesty that it was. So, I just sat there, a body next to his. A person there in case he decided he needed one.

When he finally did lift his head to look at me, his eyes were bloodshot. I didn't know how much time had passed since I'd taken my spot next to him, but Cohen had already fallen asleep in his cot and Dellacov had been sitting with some of the soldiers for some time, their conversation too quiet for me to hear.

Jax held my gaze for a long time, his gaze steady as he whispered, "The papers should go out."

"Papers?" I asked.

He cleared his throat and nodded. "The Hare. She printed it—your story and his. The king's, I mean. The crates...They're filled with them. Filled with newspapers. They've got to go out. She'd want them to go out. And I can't...I can't fail her again." He pursed his lips, his face caving with sorrow as he fought to continue to speak. "Mim says we've got the maps with the drop places. I—I've got to deliver the papers."

I nodded slowly, thinking of Harper.

Thinking of Kai.

He sighed and lowered his head into his hands again. "People are angry. Our people are scared. They want answers. They want the truth. She...All I know is that Harp would want me to deliver the papers."

"Then let's deliver them," I said.

His eyes were rimmed in silver as he whispered, "You'll help me?"

"Let's deliver them. But not just to the rebels. Let's—" I swallowed. "Let's give answers to everyone. Let's deliver the paper—Let's deliver The Oracle."

He looked up at me, his brow furrowing. "The Oracle?"

I nodded. "Yes. The Oredison Oracle. That's the bigger paper, right? Let's deliver The Hare just as you'd deliver The Oracle. It's the public paper. I assume it goes on street corners and gets read by most everyone, right?"

"Yeah, but..." Jax trailed off, his expression shifting from confusion to certainty as he realized what I saying. After a second, he nodded. "Yeah." His voice turned passionate. "Yeah, let's deliver The Oracle. Let's give it to everyone."

***
Happy Monday.

Another chapter? So soon? Can you believe it?!

If you enjoyed this chapter, leave these two emojis 🔥🐇 in the comments and tell me how you feel right now.