As precious time ticked away, more and more people of Artimé joined the dissenters in condemning the head mage and demanding his resignation. Florence quickly started walking toward Artimé, and Simber and Aaron prepared to fly back to settle things there once and for all.

Everything Is Awful

With the Revinir gaining ground, Simber and Aaron approached Artimé from the sky, and Florence emerged from the sea. Aaron could hear the chants loud and clear. “Down with the Stowes! Fire the mage!” Samheed and Lani had returned outside with Carina this time to try to control the protest. But they weren’t having any luck.

Aaron felt terrible that the people had not only turned on him, but on Thisbe and Fifer, too. It was so strange that Frieda had implicated their mother as her reason to despise them—he’d never heard anyone speak like that about her before. Aaron had only known his mother to be a quiet, obedient, selfless person. Sure, she hadn’t tried to stop Alex from being sent to his death, but no parent would’ve survived after standing against that practice back then. And she had died protecting her daughters. Perhaps that was her way of making up for past regrets. They’d never know.

But who had she been? Had she really been a pirate, as Frieda seemed so sure about? Where had she come from? The Island of Fire? And how had she gotten to Quill?

None of it mattered now. Simber flew over the people’s heads and found a clear spot on the lawn to land. The protesters turned around and moved toward them, making a circle around the group. Florence reached the shore and ran to the crowd, shouting for the people to be quiet for a moment so they could communicate.

Aaron wasn’t sure what he was going to say. He had no idea what kind of response could work with such rabidly angry people. Was there anything he could convey that would calm them? It didn’t seem likely. Their minds were made up. If only Alex were here to fix all of this. . . .

Eager for something new to be angry about, the crowd quieted enough for Aaron to speak. He slid off Simber’s back but stayed close. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he looked into the eyes of the people who hated him. “People of Artimé,” he said, “I understand your anger. I know why you hate me.”

A murmur went through the group.

“I believe you have a right to speak your mind, even if what you say hurts me. That’s what Alex would’ve said too.”

“He’d still be here if you hadn’t killed him!” shouted one man, and a few others echoed their agreement with the statement.