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“Bring us the king!” shout the rebels. “Bring us the king!”
Harristan’s jaw clenches, but he nods. “I’ve agreed to your terms. Come. Let’s make them believe it.”
When he strides forward, I walk at his side. The men of his army yield space, opening up a path for us. The roar of the rebels is loud, pounding into my ears over every step.
When we reach the front of the soldiers, Harristan stops. I didn’t think the heat could get more intense, but I was wrong. The fires rage around the rebels, and I can see sweat dripping from the faces of the hostages. I recognize Consul Cherry and Consul Pelham, whom Corrick suspected were working together—but they look terrified now. I don’t recognize any of the other hostages—but I recognize plenty of the rebels. My heart is in my throat.
“Bring us the king!” the rebels shout.
“I’m here!” Harristan shouts back.
The shock is palpable—even among the army. Clearly not all of the soldiers had even realized we were here. The rebels are silent for a long moment, and then they cheer.
And then their chant changes.
“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”
“If you kill me, I can’t help you,” he shouts back.
Theythrow one of those glistening bombs, and the king jerks me back a few yards before it can land. Glass and shards of steel scatter along the cobblestones.
Harristan glances at me. “Your turn.”
My heart stops in my chest. I don’t know how to do this. I’m no one. This is different from when they were attacking Corrick. That was me and him. This is . . . ?this is a revolution. I don’t know how to stop a revolution.
I think of what the king said. Far easier to start a war than to end one.
I take a steadying breath and step forward. “Please!” I shout. “Please listen to him! You know me. You know what I’ve done for you all!”
Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!
“Please!” I cry out. “He is willing to offer amnesty. He is willing to pardon you all. He is willing to offer change.”
“Kill him!” they shout.
“He came here to talk!” I gasp and choke on my heartbeat, aware that I’m speaking through tears now. There are rebels with crossbows leveled at us both, but I take a step forward. “Please. Please stop this.”
A man steps off the dais, stopping on the other side of the flames. Through the haze of smoke and flame, I make out his features. It’s Lochlan. He’s got a crossbow in his hands, pointed directly at me.
I raise my hands and take a shaky breath.
“Please,” I say to him. “Please, Lochlan. He came here in good faith. Please.”
“He came here because we’re killing his consuls.”
“If you kill any more,” Harristan says behind me, “my offer of amnesty is revoked.”
Lochlan’s eyes don’t leave mine. “What a surprise. He’s already changing the terms.”
“He’s trying to stop you from killing any more people.” I take a step closer to the flames. “Which is what you said you wanted to do.”
“So, what? We go back to the Wilds and he goes back to his palace, and we all keep dying? I don’t think so.” His eyes flick to Harristan. “I don’t trust you.”
“But you trust me,” I say desperately. “I know you do.” I glance at the people behind him. “Because they trust me. And they trusted Corrick.”
He studies me through the fire. For all the crimes he’s committed, for everything he did to Corrick, I should hate him. But I can’t. We’re on opposite sides of the same coin.
Lochlan straightens. “Prove it,” he says to Harristan.
