Hundreds of people gather outside the palace walls, chanting into the night. Dozens more have flooded through gates ripped off their hinges, pressing against the line of Aphelion soldiers attempting to hold them back. They’re calling for the king, their voices high and fever pitched, their arms stretched towards the palace as if trying to brush it with their fingertips.

The sight is chaos, bodies churning and writhing, and for a moment, I can’t move. I can’t breathe. My training never prepared me for anything like this.

I catch sight of two guards parting to let someone through before Erevan stumbles past the line. My jaw clenches. I should have known he was responsible for this.

A guard strides next to Erevan as he approaches, a hand on his sword, ready to take Erevan down should he make any suspicious movements.

“Captain,” he says. “The rebel leader asked to speak with you.”

“Erevan,” I say. He’s rumpled, his clothes askew, and his blond hair hanging in his eyes. “What is this? What are you doing?”

“They want justice. They want what they deserve.”

I shake my head, my hands spreading wide.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I say. “They want justice from Atlas, but he isn’t here to offer it.”

“Then let us meet with Tyr,” he says. “Have him repeal the laws and answer for his brother’s crimes.”

My jaw clenches, and our gazes meet. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Tyr cannot repeal the laws on his own, and he can’t have this conversation.” I stop myself from explaining further. Erevan has seen Tyr. He has to understand that he can’t deal with this.

“He is still the king, Gabriel. No matter what happened, these people are still his duty.”

“I know that,” I snap. “But it’s not possible right now.”

“Then when? They won’t be placated any longer. They demand and deserve justice.”

He flings a finger behind him, where the crowd pulses, arms raised, their chants swelling into the air. The line of soldiers continues to struggle against the crowd when a frantic scream rises above the cacophony, drawing our attention.

A group of low fae and soldiers have converged in the middle of the mess, clashing as they fight. Screams and shouts and someone yelling, “Stop! You’re trampling her!”

I brush past Erevan and storm over. “Stop this!” I shout. “Stop it now! I order you!”

Everyone continues to shove and push while I thrust myself into the center of the tangle. “By command of the king, stand down!” I shout louder this time, and finally, they take notice. Someone is screaming and sobbing, and the crowd parts to reveal a small body on the ground covered in blood with someone crying over them. It’s hard to tell, but I think it’s an elf. Everyone stares, paused in the stillness of shock.