“What the Dark city needs is a firm hand,” said Mark Stryker. “It is regrettable, but some harsh measures will have to be taken.”
“The people of the Dark city live harsh lives already,” said Gabrielle Mirren, but she did not protest when Mark read out the names of a few men that even I recognized by reputation: men who sent people to the cages without trial and armed all their guards with both the whip and the sword. They were sending in troops to crush the rebellion.
People who passed out pamphlets or spoke out against certain laws would be arrested. Aunt Leila will be taken in for questioning, I thought. I could imagine what they might do to her. She could disappear like my mother had.
“These are men who can annihilate the sans-merci,” said Mark.
I kept silent but looked at Ethan. He must have seen the horror on my face. I saw the angry look on his.
“And anyone else who gets in their way,” Ethan said recklessly. I reached out and touched his arm because I wanted the support, and as a warning.
Mark looked up at Ethan, a sudden sharp glance that showed exactly how much he did not appreciate having his decisions called into question in front of the council and by a member of his own family.
“Do you have an objection, Ethan?” he inquired.
I tried to get Ethan to look back at me, tried to get Ethan to shut up, but my wish for him to be safe was just as useless as my wish for Aunt Leila to be protected.
Ethan was looking at his uncle, his dark eyes steady: angry, but with a flame in them that burned beyond anger. “There are better people to send,” he said. “People who could bring peace instead of creating a wasteland.”
“By the Light,” said Mark, his voice amused. “And can you name some of these remarkable people who can turn violent and dangerous revolutionaries into courteous guests at a tea party? Feel free to speak, Ethan. Tell me who you would choose.”
Ethan said, “I would choose Jarvis Lorry.”
My hand clenched on his arm.
“My father hired him. He’s been working for us for more than a year now as our head of security in Stryker Tower, and in his position he has settled conflicts with former employees and disaffected crowds alike in a way that did not end in violence and did end with both parties satisfied,” said Ethan. “He’s absolutely honest, and concerned with justice above all. He will make sure the laws are upheld and the people of the Dark city are treated fairly. These people need help, not punishment.”
Gabrielle Mirren murmured agreement, and Mark’s eyes narrowed. “These people,” he pointed out softly, “killed your father.”
“The whole Dark city killed my father?” Ethan asked. “How did they all fit in the apartment?”
There was an uneasy silence then: people did not know whether to be horrified or to laugh. I was almost amazed at how Ethan refused to play the game of making people like him in order to achieve his ends. He could have done it. He was handsome and charming, and when he smiled at people, they wanted to smile back. He seemed to believe that it was beneath him in some way.
He was not like me. He would never have done what I did.
“What do you think of this?” Mark Stryker asked. It was the first time anyone had addressed me at the table.
Ethan squeezed my hand hard. I had sent silent messages to him for help, for quiet, so many times, and he had not listened. Yet I did not know how to refuse him.
Jarvis was a kind man. I was sure he was good at his job. I was sure that he would try to resolve matters in the Dark city without violence. And my Aunt Leila was still in there. What if sending him could save her?
But I was scared of the Dark city and scared of what might happen to Penelope’s husband and Marie’s father in it. I knew what happened to people with good intentions, down in the Dark.
I swallowed. “He and his wife were kind enough to take me and my father in when we arrived in the Light city—”
Mark’s eyes narrowed further, like a trap slamming shut, when he smiled. “Excellent point,” he said. “You are still very popular in the Dark city. Sending someone connected with you would be a good move for public relations. I suppose we can grant the man a promotion, considering the circumstances—and given Ethan’s enthusiastic support.”
I opened my mouth to say that was not what I meant, but I did not want to cross Mark in front of the council. I looked to Ethan for help, but Ethan’s face was set in determined lines. Ethan was getting what he wanted.
Mark smiled and kept his gaze fixed on me until I had to smile back. “I think this is an excellent idea. Don’t you agree with me and Ethan, Lucie?”
The word stuck like a piece of apple in my throat, but I forced it out. “Yes.”
I was not like Ethan. I would never dare argue with Mark Stryker or the Light Council.
“Then consider it done. No need to thank me,” Mark added, and kept smiling.