Gunnar eyed the water behind them. He cocked an eyebrow over his muzzle.
“I doubt dainty princes do either,” he murmured.
A flush warmed Ben’s face. He thanked the island’s heat for hiding it when he saw Jakes glowering in his peripheral vision.
“Citizens of Grace Loray!”
Ben went rigid. On a balcony across the square, Elazar lifted his arms, robes glowing blue in the sunlight that filtered through the trees. Blue was one of the colors for Grace Aracely, the Grace of the Pious God’s pillar of penance. Of contrition. Of regret.
Ben growled deep in his throat.
“Many of you have heard the rumors involving my country,” Elazar continued, his voice echoing over the square. “Rumors of ruthless burnings. Senseless arrests. Bloodshed and violence. But I have personally come before you to speak the truth: your Grace Lorayan Council has allied with Argrid to rid this island of raiders, such as those arrested from your village.”
A retching sob cut through the air. Ben spun toward it to see a woman and man curled together, weeping, whileothers gave them a wide berth and eyed the docks.
Elazar had had villagers arrested. Raiders—likely people who had resisted his presence.
“The depth of the corruption on this island is astounding,” Elazar continued. “We have discovered neighbors,yourneighbors, to be conspirators in a plot to turn this island into an anarchist, crime-run hell. I have seen this fate befall other nations who embrace magic—the evil of magic split the Mechtlands into warring factions that killed thousands of their own countrymen. Does that not sound familiar? A country, split into groups, warring over magic?”
Elazar paused. The crowd stirred, casting looks at one another, while the weeping man and woman stifled their misery. Who had Elazar taken from them? A son? A sister?
The soft padding of feet followed, and Tomás Andreu joined Elazar on the balcony.
“This is why we of your Grace Lorayan Council reached out to Argrid,” Andreu announced. “The Eminence King is the only force on this earth who possesses a power stronger than the evil botanical magic of the stream raider syndicates. He saw the truth long before the world was ready to believe: that magic is the source of our ills. But the Pious God’s power is pure and lasting. We must commit to it, and to the War on Raiders.”
“But do not believe our words without proof.” Elazar lifted a hand. “I have brought someone else who can confirm these truths.”
Elazar went on to explain the destruction magic had caused in the Mechtlands. People addicted to certain plants; towns slaughtered by enhanced fires; victims unable to put up any resistance to those affected by magic.
Ben’s mind spasmed. The defensors hadn’t dragged the two of them here because of him.
“He meansyou,” he panted at Gunnar, expecting the defensors to rip him away and escort him up to Elazar. “You have to deny it. You have to tell these people what really happened.”
Redness highlighted the blue in Gunnar’s eyes. “How? The things he says are true.”
“More factors caused the Mechtlands’ war than magic—and more is at work here.”
“Yes. But will these people believe that?”
Ben looked at the crowd again. A few villagers, slinking away to the recesses, might have been raiders, but most were regular citizens trying to survive. Those people were the ones who watched the others, whispering, glaring—blaming.
“Grace Loray!” Elazar bellowed. “Your Council and I present a man who was once one of the outlaws bent on your destruction. The Head of the Mecht syndicate, Ingvar Pilkvist!”
The crowd murmured their amazement as Ingvar ascended the steps to Elazar’s balcony.
Elazar hadn’t called up Gunnar. But Ben didn’t relax.
“Friends,” Ingvar started. He had the same accent asGunnar, only weathered by years away from the Mechtlands. “Magic brings ruin, and I admit that the raider syndicates had planned to seize this island by force.”
The crowd gasped. Some let out startled yelps of fear. Andreu nodded gravely, and Elazar put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Each syndicate has been stockpiling dangerous magic,” Ingvar continued. “Our plans were gruesome and need not be recounted here. I beg your forgiveness, Grace Loray, for allowing magic to manipulate me into plotting atrocious acts against you.” He dropped to his knees and lifted his hands in the curvedVof the Church. “I throw myself at the Pious God’s mercy. Any raiders who do not recant as I have are vying for war. We are sick from magic use, sick from obeying the Devil, and we need the superior power of the Pious God to heal us.”
Elazar held his hands out over Ingvar but spoke to the people. “With the support of the Council, I will bring order to this island. I will cleanse Grace Loray of evil.”
“You have our full support,” Andreu declared.
Elazar nodded. “I understand the transformations I ask will not come easily. Removing the Devil’s influence from your hearts can be painful, and many of you may struggle. But I am familiar with sacrifice—the Pious God taught me early that he most rewards his followers when the sacrifices we make are great. I have lost many people I love through sacrifice—some by corruption, others to a higher will—”
