“If you want real change, the kind that lasts, you have to accept that you’re a small part of the larger whole. That out of many”—she held her fingers splayed and bunched them into a fist—“one force may yet overcome. We are the many, Anji. The lowborn, the common. The laborers and farmers and fishermen. One act like the one you committed will not dismantle years of oppression and greed. One murder, regardless of its rank, will not grant the many their due.

“You thought Rolandrian had ultimate authority. It’s a simple story told to people like us. He was a distraction. A figurehead. A conduit for the common folk to focus their hatred.” She locked eyes with Anji. “He likely had no idea who your parents were.”

This last sent a surge of indignation through Anji. How could he not have known?

“Those few who advised the king,” Kit went on, “the Senate, the Governors, the Sun Wardens, their subordinates, their lords and ladies—they are the real, unseen force, and they fear the many. You look around and you see poverty and strife, hunger and insecurity, and I warrant your feelings on all those things are valid—I share them with you. You and your parents lived through it all, like so many others. But you cannot topple a pyramid by cracking its crown. You must dismantle it, brick by brick, until its weight is lifted free and you can begin again. And for that, you need numbers. You need organization. You need an army.” Her eyes flicked over Anji. “And an army needs … investment.”

Anji inched forward. “A million Rhoda,” she said, “that’s why you need me alive. You want to fund the Tide.”

“I want to contribute. I’m one small part of an organized whole. The tide against the levees being built. The Wardens have taken their time, playing their games behind the Senate’s back, but they’ve grown bolder these past months, and bolder still now Rolandrian is in the ground without an heir. But they are not invincible. They can be deposed. But not by reckless murder or blind hate or ignorance. It will take a collective. It will take time and planning. One shared vision distributed among the masses. Anything else, any fractured action like the one you took only feeds the monster that stomps on the necks of good people like your parents.”

They sat in silence for a heartbeat before Anji said, her voice hoarse, “You don’t have to do any of this. I agree with everything you’re saying. Let me help. Take me with you to where the rebels are camped and I can—”

“You’re not listening.”

“I’m not—” Anji stuttered, then tried a new tack. “How do you know they’ll even pay you? The Wardens? How can you trust anything they say?”