“According to those who make the rules,” Hector said, “yes.”
“One of us will make the rules tomorrow,” Elara pushed back. “We can change it.”
On cue, a massive white caravan pulled beside them. From the intricate, swirling patterns of gemstones on the side, it was clear who was safe inside. Not even a window allowed the Counseil to see out, or the Restes in. So much for beingof the people.
Elara snorted. “Spineless bastards.”
Hector and Berina looked horrified.
“This way,” an officer in a padded suit called. Armor.
All of them were covered head to toe in it, with batons, pistols, and shackles at their sides. They were afraid.
Good.
Elara wore her smirk proudly as she followed Berina and Hector around the corner and into The Market.
It was unrecognizable. The dingy stalls had been cleared away, the cobblestones freshly washed, and the rubble of the burned building shoveled aside. Thousands of golden bulbs hung from tangled weaves of stringed lights that stretched from the corners of the surrounding buildings. Flowers that had definitely not been there before bloomed with alluring, mind-altering fragrances from vast buckets every few feet. An entertainer breathed fire into shapes, giving them life with a wink. Elara watched as a kitten made of flame scampered through a crowd of children before disappearing in a puff of smoke. A few tents had been arranged, offering goods for purchase: tools, clothes, produce. Necessary things. Things they should already be promised but were forced to spend their final soms on because this opportunity might never come again.
On the wall of the building opposite the Joyaux, a massive canvas of Lisette Plouffe waved and smiled at the crowd.
“Welcome! Welcome all, to the finale of the Objet d’Art!”
The police led Elara and the others through The Market, struggling to keep the crowd back once they noticed her. Children pressed against the barrier and cried out. The older generations gave her stoic nods and touched their hearts.
Somewhere, a chant filled the air.
“Unforgettable! Unforgettable! Unforgettable!”
“They love you,” Berina said, and Elara swore she heard appreciation in her flat tone.
“They didn’t used to,” she replied.
They entered a cleared-out area in the center of The Market. The three stations were nestled right against one another with little room to move or hide their mistakes. Elara turned, finding the crowd only a few meters back.
Personal. Just as Lafontaine wanted it.
The caravan sped through, horses careening to a halt, where they were kept idle as the side of the cart unfolded. Inside, the Souverains sat in fine chairs made of gemstones matching their Sociétés: ruby, amethyst, obsidian, emerald, topaz, sapphire, and diamond upon the empty throne for Arts Culinaires. It was the most flagrant display of their power yet, a warning as much as a symbol of hope to the Restes audience.
“It has been too long since we’ve visited the southern quarter,” Faucher cried. She refused to call them what they’d been named by a Counseil long ago, a reminder that Faucher might support Elara, but she did not support the Restes.
“We are delighted to see your shining faces!” Perrault added.
“An honor,” Gabriel muttered.
No one made a sound.
The Counseil wouldn’t get easy applause here.
Tremblay cleared her throat. “We’ve brought the finale of Objet d’Art to you! Not only because the Souverain will represent you, but because one contestant already does.”
Again, no one cheered, but they did look at Elara. Some brave soul cried her name and another echoed withunforgettable.
“Favored, step forward,” Lafontaine ordered.
They stood before the Counseil in a line.
“Berina Savi of Le Cœur.”
