Darling wasn’t amused. He felt more like he was heading toward an execution.

Might as well get it over with. Besides, whatever he said wouldn’t matter to more than half of them. They were going to hate him regardless. There was nothing he could do or say to sway them to his cause. With a deep breath, Darling changed course for the south hallway. Instead of going to his guard to rally them, he was now going to try and…

Not get politically assassinated in the media again.

It didn’t take him long to reach the south hall where everyone waited. Maris and Drake stayed at his back while his real royal guards opened the doors for his admittance. He was still getting used to them doing that, and treating him with respect and deference—something Harren had somehow miraculously induced. But it was hard to undo a lifetime of ridicule in just a few weeks. A part of him kept waiting for their contempt to kick in.

Just as he waited to hear it from the assembled gerents as he entered the chamber hall.

They remained quiet with only a few of them throwing belligerent glares toward him. Ignoring them, he descended the row of stairs to take his throne at the front of their seats. Maris moved to stand to his right while Drake stood on his left.

The gerents sat down after he did.

And still not a single sound could be heard. Not even the rustle of fabric.

Giran came down the main row that divided the room. He bowed low before Darling, then moved off to the side so as not to give Darling his back—an act of supreme reverence and respect.

Clearing his throat, he went to the podium to address the others. “I want to thank all of you for coming out so quickly.”

Darling would dispute two weeks as being quick, but he held his tongue. No need in being the first one to start the name-calling. See what happens when they don’t fear you’ll blow them up? They take their sweet time with assembly. Unlike the first time when he’d been able to get them together in only a few hours…

“As all of you know,” Giran continued, “we are being occupied by foreign soldiers, and many of us have family who are now in League custody as political hostages to guarantee our cooperation. Governor Cruel—”

“He’s the problem!”

“They wouldn’t be here if not for him!”

“I say we give him over to the League, then they’ll release our people.”

Giran held his hands up to silence the angry barrage. “We are the reason the League is here!” He shouted over them until they settled down. “The governor had nothing to do with this. He knew what would happen if we asked for their intervention, and he tried to stop us. We are the ones who invited them in without his consent or knowledge.”

He swept the crowd with a fierce scowl. “And I know no one in this room is stupid enough to really believe that all the League wants is Governor Cruel. In fact, it is my concrete conclusion that he is the only hope we have of getting our families back, ever—something he has graciously offered to do. For. Us. And I think we should listen to what it is he now proposes.”