“He’s trying to figure it out,” she replied. “And I didn’t come here to be ridiculed or punished for being a disappointment to you and everyone else in the city. I came here to help Gaetan!”
Fernand shoved a pistol in his belt. “Do you want me break into prison to save him? Get arrested and leave my people to die?”
This was the Fernand Travers people followed. Elara would’ve followed him too if she hadn’t been so afraid.
“I can’t sacrifice the hope of the resistance for one man,” he declared. “If anything, his arrest might be the power I need to propel people into action. Therightkind of action.”
Elara drew back. “You really would use him to further your own plans.”
“If it’s the only way to win,” he said, approaching the door.
“Then you’re no better than the Counseil,” she spat.
She added it to the growing list of things she should apologize for. Fernand wasnothinglike the Counseil, but that didn’t help her understand how he could so easily cast Gaetan aside.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Why?”
He opened the door, letting a nightmarish cacophony fill the air: screams, cries, harshly struck commands.
“I deserve to know,” she snapped.
He whirled on her. “Deserve?” Elara backpedaled until her thighs hit the table. “You don’t deserve anything, Elara. Not until you realize everything you do—everything—affects others.”
“I do,” she whispered. “Now I do.”
“If you did, you wouldn’t have come here and put us all in more danger,Favored. You only came here to make yourself feel better. To pretend like you’re making a difference instead of actually helping.”
Her lip wobbled, but she refused to let him see her break.
“Do you know why I said your bakery was a waste of time?” He pointed to the table cluttered with plans. “Because your mother knew there was more important work to be done. She died for that work, and you chose to live out some fantasy instead.”
He stormed out, stopping at the door. “Don’t attend the final contest.”
Before she could ask why, the shouts outside changed. They weren’t the soul-tearing screams of those in pain, but the terrified shrieks of—
“Police!”
“Run!”
Furious stomps shook the walls, and Elara was fourteen again, watching the city’s guard tear through people like they were sugar-workfigurines, smashing them to pieces until they got their answers. Fourteen when buildings burned and she had to hear the wails of a child—
“They found us.” Nicolette panted. “We have to get out of here.”
Blai and Chantal were on her heels, as well as other faces Elara recognized as if through a hazy dream—the people who’d surrounded Fernand in the booth the day she’d answered his call. They were here, looking to him for answers.
“Out the back,” Fernand mumbled, eyes stuck on the archway to the ballroom.
Standing there, Elara understood his struggle. If he left now, he’d be abandoning those people to a fate worse than death. But if he tried to help, he’d be captured and any hope for change would end. It was an impossible choice.
One Elara made for him, both because she still cared for the stubborn boy who’d saved her from her grief and because she wanted to prove shewascapable of committing to change.
She shoved him into his followers. “Get him and as many people out of here as you can.”
“What!” Fernand fought to get away. “No! Let me go!”
