Corrupt

Chapter 6

It takes a moment for the crowd to react, most of us still settled, minds sedated and bleary. And then, almost as one, hundreds of eyes turn to the corridor. 

Somebody out there is screaming. 

"What's going on?" I hear Nikolas ask a nearby guard. 

"I don't know, Your Majesty," she replies, face pale. 

"Everybody remain calm!" The King stands once more, voice ringing out clear across the hall, his sense of control regaining the focus of the panicking audience. "Please remain in this room. My guards will investigate. Please remain calm." 

That comforts the chaos a little; but up close, I spot the slight furrow of his brow, the clenched fists, the fearful confusion darting across his gaze. And that worries me. This has never happened before. 

Carcaseau is a place of peace. There is no way anything could hurt us here.

Outside, in the hallway, there is sounds of a struggle, a shriek, and then silence. Strange how this silence, gilded with terror and uncertainty, is so different to the joyful, comforting silence of a minute ago. 

We wait, the entire room seeming to hold its breath.

Then there is shouting from the hallway, and the sound of clashing metal. 

We remain frozen, unsure of what to do, looking to our King, utterly petrified. He, too, is motionless. 

Suddenly, through the towering doors, a swarm of people enter. I know immediately that these are not peaceful citizens of Vaskuoyae. 

They're rebels.

And they're attacking.

It couldn't happen in Carcaseau.

But it is.

When I look up, the hall is in a state of utter carnage. Rebels brandish knives before them, backing terrified citizens against slashed walls, shouting commands. A group of them run across the room to tear down the tapestry. I search for my girls amongst the rabble, spotting them in a huddle in the far corner, attempting to hide. Drea grabs a bread-knife from the table. She would never be able to use it.

Throughout it all, the King stands perfectly still, poised as though waiting for something, someone. Underneath his veneer of coolness, I sense his rising panic.

"Your Majesty? What are you going to do?" I question, trying to snap him to his senses. He is the only one here that might have power against these rebels. 

He doesn't respond.

"Your Majesty!" I grab his hand, and his eyes snap to mine. "You have to do something! They'll kill us all! Use your powers!" 

"I can't," he murmurs. "There's too many people here." 

"Then find something else to do!" Though I try to reach him, his gaze gradually flickers back to the doorway. 

Who is he waiting for?

"Nikolas!" That catches his attention. I doubt anybody has used his name in a long time. I'm too desperate to be embarrassed.  "Nikolas, you have to try. Use your powers." 

Hesitantly, he raises his hands, sending a projectile of flame across the room, setting a group of rebels - and, I realise with a gasp, our tapestry - alight. 

"You see?" He cries. "It's too dangerous. We have to fight them physically."

"We don't know how!" 

"Try your best, Lynette. I'll try my best too." 

So I do, tearing my eyes from him to leap off the stage, into the midst of the violence. As I run, I try to tune out the gore surrounding me: rebels lie wounded, some even dead, across the tables, citizens screaming from every direction. 

"Drea!" I call out, my voice lost instantaneously amongst the choir of chaos. There is no sign of her. 

"Lynny!" Somebody shrieks from behind me. I spin to find Ashia, trembling, armed with only a serving spoon, backing away from a rebel. I do the only thing I can think of, shoving them away from her with as much strength as I can muster, dragging her away after me. 

"Are you okay? Where are the others?"

"We were separated. I'm okay." There is a deep wound across her arm, blood soaking into the pale sleeve of her gown.

"See if you can get out. They won't notice. Get back to our tower," I say. She doesn't need to be told twice. 

Where are the others?

I push my way through the mob, but I can't see past the figures that encircle me. 

Where are you? 

Wincing, I step up onto one of the long tables, craning my neck, squinting, searching for that face I know so well. Over by the door, I distinguish a person, standing perfectly tall, and I assume it's Nikolas, but then I look again, and it's not him. It's a rebel. Dressed in a formal, black Eskalis suit, they watch the turmoil with a slight smirk, a raised eyebrow, entirely unphased as blood splatters across their pale cheeks. Their shadowed eyes meet mine, and I gasp, stumbling backwards, as they smile, as though daring me to do something, to attack. 

I am thrown off the table as a knife presses into the back of my neck, the cold metal slicing into my skin, making me splutter.

"Lynny!" A voice screams from behind me. Drea. 

Flailing wildly, I turn to find her. Though she grins as we catch sight of each other, I can see the gang of rebels swarming her, the man creeping up behind her, the glint of a blade in his hand-

I hurl myself towards her, grabbing the closest thing I can find (a glass) and smashing it over the attacker's head before they can react. They are stunned momentarily, but there are more. As hard as I can, I push Drea away, the dandelion-yellow fabric of her dress tearing under my grip, but then I'm surrounded, and I can't escape, and there's too many of them, and I catch sight of Nikolas in the distance. His hands are raised, fire flickering violently around him, and I try to catch his attention, scream as loud as I can, help me, help me, but he's not looking, too focused on the flames jumping uncontrollably around him, a dash of terror in his eyes. 

What's wrong with him?

And then there is a solid punch across the back of my skull, and I tumble downwards like a puppet with snapped strings, unable to catch myself, and I can hear screams, I think they might be Drea's, but then my eyes close and then I can't hear anything at all.