“What’s the last bit of information?” Violet asked, leaning forward.
Jeff smiled then, genuinely. “Matrus is having a day of mourning for the death of Princess Tabitha. It was revealed that she did die in the palace, along with several key advisors—both Matrian and Patrian—and Chancellor Dobin.”
“So Dobin was in the palace?” Violet asked.
Jeff nodded. “Apparently, he was in a portion that collapsed. They recovered his body early on, but with all the dead… it took a while to identify him.”
Violet’s face fell, and I recognized immediately that the news wasn’t as uplifting to her as maybe it should have been. But I couldn’t blame her. A lot of people had died during her attack on the palace. I knew she hadn’t wanted them to; I also knew that if Tabitha had accepted Violet’s deal, nobody—not even Tabitha herself—would’ve died. I reached out and took her hand in mine, knowing she needed the reassurance.
“Thank you, Jeff,” I said. “But how are the people taking this news? There’s gotta be some concern that with no leaders readily available, the Matrians are trying to seize control, and I know the people of Patrus won’t accept that lying down.”
“I’m glad you asked. The follow-up to that announcement was that Elena is asking for there to be a general election of a leader to represent the country’s interest during this time. The message remains the same—the Matrians are only here to help restore order, not to assume control.”
I exhaled. “And in the meantime, while we’re waiting for the election to take place, Elena’s in charge.”
“She’s making a show of working within the Patrian legal system, but refuses to execute women in cases where they would traditionally be executed while men would not—the only exception being the women who have been accused of being part of the Daughters of Patrus. Nobody is making a fuss about her refusal, though, because at least looters and criminals are being caught and held accountable. It’s gaining her a lot of support, to be honest.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Jeff, I think that’s all I have to ask. Someone will contact you tomorrow. How does six o’clock sound?”
“It sounds good. See you then.”
I clicked off the handheld, ending the call, and turned to Violet. “Thoughts?”
“Will Jeff have a problem getting registered?”
I shook my head. “He shouldn’t, but I might encourage him to find an alternate identity, in case Ashabee has dropped his name.”
“Have we heard anything about Ashabee?”
“No, nothing since he was taken to the palace. It could’ve been that he was in the palace when everything went down, but he also could’ve been anywhere. To be honest, I’m not sure we’ll ever know what happened to him.”
She nodded and swallowed. “Elena’s certainly good at manipulating the people. She’s trying to respect their laws and keeps encouraging them to take control over their own land. Maybe eventually they’ll just vote to have her assume command, especially if their leaders keep getting murdered.”
I didn’t agree, but it wasn’t a farfetched conclusion to draw, especially for someone who still only had a limited understanding of Patrus. I could see why she would think that: with Elena manufacturing or capitalizing on the disasters, assigning blame to a familiar enemy, and promising results, she was giving the people an idea to rally behind, the idea that they could trust and rely on her. Still, the inferiority of women wasn’t just an idea to Patrians—it was a hard-held belief. I didn’t think that was going to change soon enough for the people to ever vote Elena into power, definitely not in her lifetime.
Either way we looked at it, it wasn’t looking good. But I had to admit I was still hopeful. With the video, we had a starting point to create our own propaganda, and hopefully turn the tide against Elena.
I looked up and smiled, drawn out of my thoughts, as I saw the familiar form of Ms. Dale heading toward us. I nudged Violet and raised a hand in greeting.
18
Violet
Viggo and I watched Ms. Dale approach, her feet tearing through the soft grass, heading up the little hill toward the tree we sat beneath. I started to rise, but she motioned me to stop with an imperious wave of her hand. “Don’t bother getting up on my account,” she announced. “Right now it’s much easier for me to come down to you.”
Smiling in bemusement, I complied, remaining seated as Ms. Dale dropped down on one knee and gave me a quick, gentle hug. I hugged my former mentor back, relieved to see she was all right, in spite of the chaos of the last few days. “Hey, Ms. Dale,” I said fondly, and she squeezed me slightly, still taking care not to upset my injuries.