The Right to Die | ✓ Amby Winner 2023

27. The Right to Sheathe

"You do realize this is certifiably insane?" Sviya wriggled in the seat of the hover, but M'yu doubted she got much more comfortable. The rest of the vehicle was crowded with boxes of gleaming serving dishes, which had been recovered and lovingly polished by the Gold House servants. Both Sviya and M'yu sat squished between the stacks and the walls of the hover. They'd sent the vehicle ahead once already, filled with a few willing servants and another load of lidded plates.

M'yu didn't answer. He had enough doubts of his own to indulge hers. The Prav'sudja had arranged the Last Dinner almost immediately after Sviya sent in their notice. Tonight would be the dinner. Tomorrow would be the Washfall Trial.

And if this didn't work, Aevryn would be dead before the Trial even began.

The hover came to a stop inside the Prav'sudja's mouth. Outside, the rain pelted and splashed down in slushy puddles. A squad of Prav'sudja guards escorted M'yu and Sviya through the halls. M'yu snorted. A bit much for two teenagers. Meanwhile, Gold House servants retrieved the last of the prepared meals.

No one was in the courtroom when they arrived, but strings of empty tables filled the huge space, providing enough room for everyone who was to come. Sviya's nose wrinkled. "How disrespectful."

M'yu glanced at her as they took their seats on either side of the table's head, where Aevryn would eventually be seated. She smoothed out a napkin in her lap. "They didn't even lay cloths over the tables. They're treating him like a common criminal."

"A common criminal with a lot of friends," M'yu said wryly.

Svi raised a brow at him. "They're not his friends."

M'yu turned away to stare at the entrance.

Soon, people began trickling through, House by House, group by group. Sviya's popularity and her uncle's influence showed. She'd been able to personally invite everyone from their year, as well as several of the upper years. Then, on M'yu's command, they used Evriss's years of information to leverage all the Houses' soft spots. To everyone who'd ever been targeted by the Tsaright, Sviya had promised that supporting the Tsaright's enemy in his dying moments would be safe, sweet revenge. To the curious, she'd promised gossip. To the greedy, she'd promised a dinner worth remembering. To the fearful, she offered just a taste of what was to come: It doesn't have to be this way. Come. Come and see.

The room filled quickly, and the air hummed with subdued, macabre anticipation. This was a dead man's dinner—the largest, Evriss had said, the city had seen in decades. Chills prickled the air, even while outside, warm rain thrummed against the roof.

A dinner of death tonight. An arena of death tomorrow. By the next nightfall, the world would be a different place, and everyone could feel it in the air. With their own eyes, they were all seeing history.

As the last guests walked in, M'yu let out a pent breath. The Mercury House had come. They walked through the door in tight ranks. Ruslan didn't meet M'yu's eye but took his seat along with everyone else. 

Aevryn's servants laid silver trays on the table, their lids still on. They slid back to the room's edge just as the antechamber doors—doors M'yu himself had walked through just that morning—opened. Guards marched Aevryn through.

The prince stiffened and stopped as the crowd grew quiet. The guards nudged him forward. M'yu met his eye and dipped a careful nod. 

Aevryn took back up his walk, pace as even as if he were headed to dinner from the library. He stepped to the side, waiting for one of the guards to pull back his seat for him. Their lips twisted, but Aevryn just stood there until one yanked the chair back.