Irris’s tone told Sorrow that, like Charon, she didn’t believe it was possible. Sorrow wished she had their conviction. How were they so sure?
“He looks like the portraits, there’s no denying it, and he does have the mark on his neck, though I suppose it could be a tattoo.” Sorrow pulled her old gown over her head and took the new one from Irris, holding it tightly, her fingers twisting the fabric. “And there are some old clothes that Vespus says were what he was found in. But how could a little boy survive that fall? I looked down into the water. It’s so high, and the Archior is so fast. He couldn’t swim. And, as your father pointed out, the timing is one hell of a coincidence. My father being as he is. The Jedenvat’s vote. Mael said he only found out they were coming last night. But, really, what is the likelihood of this all happening now by pure chance?” Her words were a stream of consciousness, tumbling from her mouth, and she wasn’t sure if any of what she’d said made sense.
But Irris had understood. “Impossible,” she agreed.
“He saved me,” Sorrow blurted, apparently not finished.
“Who?”
“The boy. Mael. He saved my life. We went for a walk – I needed to get away – and he came with me. We were by the river, and I slipped. He could have let me fall. But he didn’t.”
Irris stared at her, and Sorrow shrugged. It was the only thing she couldn’t fit into Vespus’s alleged plan. The way Mael had stepped forward to protect her, not once but twice. The way he’d saved her. The sincerity in his voice when he’d told her he wouldn’t let her fall. His overwhelming niceness. He didn’t need to be nice to her. So why was he?
Irris shook her head. “That doesn’t mean anything. He had to save you. If you’d fallen, everyone would have assumed he’d pushed you. To get rid of you.”
“I suppose.” But it didn’t feel right. And it didn’t explain why he’d moved to stand between her and Vespus. Unless – a new thought dawned on her – it was part of his plan to wheedle his way in. For all she knew, he and Vespus had planned those moments, so Mael could seem like a hero. After all, hadn’t she thought their words in Rhylla had sounded rehearsed?
She wished she knew. She wished for a fact, something solid, instead of stories and speculation.
Though she was more confused than ever, Sorrow stopped wringing the gown in her hands and smoothed it. “Thanks for this.”
“Don’t thank me yet. The Jedenvat are waiting for you.”
Something in her tone made Sorrow stop in the act of pulling the new gown over her head. “What am I about to walk into?” she asked.
“Chaos,” Irris said simply.
Irris kept a reassuring hand on Sorrow’s back as she guided her to a seat in the hastily opened council room of the Summer Palace, but after that Sorrow was on her own.
The moment she sat down, the room erupted.
“Is it him?” Lord Samad was halfway standing, seemingly seconds from climbing over the table to grasp her. “Is it Mael?”
“Of course it’s not,” Bayrum Mizil scoffed at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“If everyone could please remain calm…” Sorrow tried.
“How could a child survive that fall?” Tuva Marchant ignored her. “Ten men lost their lives diving in after him. Ten strong men who knew how to swim.”
“He survived!” Samad roared, gesturing at Charon, as the vice chancellor’s cheeks darkened with either embarrassment or rage.
“My lords and ladies, please…” Sorrow tried again to interrupt, but Samad and Tuva, who had never seen eye to eye, were too deep into their argument.
“If Sorrow had been born a son, would you be so keen to cling to this pipe dream of a dead child returning to life? No! This very morning, all of you –” Tuva paused to point a finger at everyone in the room “– voted to invest Sorrow. And now? Tell me, have you changed your minds?”
“How can we invest her now?” Kaspira said. “We have to know for sure whether the boy is or isn’t Mael.”
“He isn’t Mael,” Tuva shouted. “Mael is dead.”
Sorrow finally sat back, watching the Jedenvat argue among themselves. The frequent angry glances Charon shot her way demanded she should do something, but she could see there was little point. They wouldn’t listen. Not to her, not to each other. Not now. Better to let them get it out, before Harun came, before the Rhyllians arrived.
Besides, she didn’t know what she believed, and she hadn’t had a moment to herself to even think about it. So she stayed quiet, her thoughts turning again to how Mael had protected her. Smiled at her. She tried not to glance at the clock as Samad, Tuva, Kaspira and Bayrum continued to bicker; soon they might not be her problem at all. They might be his. All of Rhannon might be his.
And once again that sinuous flash of something acid green burned inside her, making her sit upright, the suddenness of the movement silencing the Jedenvat.
It was at that moment that the steward knocked on the door, appearing terrified, as he announced that Vespus’s party, and the boy, had arrived.
“Bring him here,” Lord Samad demanded.
“Yes, I’ll take a look at him,” Tuva said.
The steward shot a desperate glance at Charon. “Lord Vespus asked if they could go straight to their rooms, seeing as the chancellor isn’t here.”
“How did he know the chancellor wasn’t here?” Sorrow asked.
The steward swallowed. “He asked… And I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to say.”
Charon took a deep breath. “Perhaps all of us would do better to get some rest and meet again in the morning. When we can control ourselves.”
He shot a pointed look at Tuva and Samad, who both sat back in their chairs, still scowling at each other.
The steward left, and everyone turned to Charon, waiting.
“We need to present a united front tomorrow,” Charon said. “Put aside your personal beliefs and feelings, and think about what’s best for Rhannon.”
It seemed to Sorrow that this last was directed at her.
Sorrow went straight back to her rooms after the meeting, her body aching and her eyelids heavy. But for the second night in a row, the moment she climbed beneath the sheets, she was wide awake again. She tried, for a while, to trick herself into falling asleep, counting her breaths, in and out, telling herself stories. Sleep wouldn’t come, and so she sat up, swinging her legs out of the bed, reaching for the robe that had been left for her.
She padded silently first to the table, pouring herself a glass of water, before crossing to the balcony. She’d left the doors open, and a cool breeze was blowing in, the scent of the river on it. She stepped out on to the cool marble structure and looked down, the garden shrouded in shadow, and silent. Above her thousands of stars glittered, and something close to peace, despite everything, settled over her. The night air cleansed her, stripping away her worries and fears, and the world was so still she might have been the only person in it. She found she liked that idea.