Lord of the Night

Chapter 44: Verdict

She shoved her way past much larger figures toward the front of the crowd, dark curls bouncing with each step. At odds among the uniformed Guardians, she wore her regular blouse, and her long skirt swished around her ankles as she stomped up the stairs. She stopped a foot from Fraschkit and tipped her head back to glare up at the Guardian Leader.

"There is no fucking slave bond," she said. "That's just something Guardians made up to explain why not all humans love them. You all would rather believe the Demons forced us to their side than admit the truth."

Fraschkit glanced at Ranndu, who avoided her eyes. With a frown, she turned back toward Zuzette. "What truth?"

"That you failed us."

Fraschkit stared at the woman in front of her. After a few beats of silence, she shook her head and breathed an uncomfortable laugh. "Who are you, exactly? And what do you know about Demons?"

"I'm Zuzette. I served the Demons at the palace for eight years."

A murmur passed over the crowd—not quite the condemnation Isalio had faced, but ample confusion and unease. I was surprised Zuzette had admitted that fact so easily. Earlier, she had seemed to fear the Guardians learning the truth, but now she displayed the same haughty confidence she had emoted the first time I met her. Though she didn't even reach Fraschkit's shoulders, she propped her hands on her hips and puffed her chest.

"Served them, how?" asked Fraschkit.

"I worked in the gardens, mostly."

"Why?"

"It was a good job. Safe."

Fraschkit tempered her physical reaction, but her voice crackled with disbelief. "Good? Safe?"

Zuzette jerked a thumb toward Ranndu. "Which of us looks healthier?"

That drew a hiss of disgust from the crowd, but Ranndu merely shrugged his skeletal shoulders in agreement.

Fraschkit's voice strained. "Did you like serving Demons?"

"Did you like hiding underground while the Demons destroyed humanity?" When Fraschkit failed to answer, Zuzette continued. "I guess we all do what we have to do—the humans, the Guardians..." She tilted her head toward Isalio. "The Demons. Biggest difference is, Guardians somehow carry on acting superior, pretending to be fucking heroes."

"The Guardians have saved whoever we could."

"Whoever you could? Before my village was destroyed, we asked the Guardians for help. But you never came. You brave, noble heroes—the only ones powerful enough to stop the Demons—you were all hiding underground, torturing whoever you could capture."

Fraschkit's jaw clenched. While I could understand Zuzette's anger, I also felt a surge of defensiveness on Fraschkit's behalf. Or maybe it was on my own behalf. Fraschkit and I had both made those complaints at Council meetings. We both had followed orders because we believed in our team and respected Leader Rakimar, but neither of us had been content to stay underground while humans died. And at one point, neither of us had wanted to torture Isalio. She had once said almost the same words I had in Isalio's defense.

'If we torture and kill him, what sets us apart from the Demons?'

Of course, that was before we had confirmed his guilt. Now Isalio, with his nonchalant affirmations of atrocities committed, was all but forcing her hand.

Like she had done in so many Council Meetings, Fraschkit drew a breath and released the tension in her jaw. "I'm sorry about your village, Zuzette. But if the Guardians didn't help, it's because we knew we stood no chance. We needed to wait until the right moment to make our stand."