The Right to Die | ✓ Amby Winner 2023

18.1 Sellout

M'yu spent the rest of the day in the library at the house, alternating between writing down everything he knew about the Nightsale and watching more of Peitros's videos. They felt like disconnected snippets of history, and he wished Aevryn were here so he could ask more about them. Tonight, he kept telling himself, and then remembering that he also had to get this testimony done by tonight.

Aevryn had agreed to let him go back to school tomorrow if he was still feeling up to it. M'yu, of course, planned on feeling up to it. Him and Karsya had spent their lives dreaming of what it would be like to step into the noble's shoes. This chance was everything he wanted to give his people. If he couldn't—wouldn't—take it, then what was the point in fighting to give it to them?

M'yu could be the representative. He could be part of setting things right, of changing their mind. Of changing everything.

Throughout the day, flashes of Karsya haunted his mind, though. Sellout, she would say. But he hadn't abandoned the mission; he had just changed objectives. Get Aevryn on the throne. They didn't have to destroy everything if they could build it back up right. Put Aevryn in the place he deserved, in the place of the Tsar, and M'yu could give his people everything he'd ever wanted them to have.

Biting his lip, M'yu snagged another piece of paper and scribbled down some extra instructions. Don't bother the old man at the door; he's just a beggar. Don't arrest any of the minors; they'll scatter when you come in. Don't punish people for fighting back; you're breaking into their home as far as they see it. Don't... don't hurt them.

M'yu's hand dropped, and the pen clattered to the table. This was right. This was good. But like witchcandy running through his veins, nothing felt quite right anymore.

His eyes snuck to the console for the thousandth time that day. He wondered how easy it would be to practice on it, if maybe there was even a way to connect to the central linkcard system from here, since Aevryn was the minister and all.

He tore his eyes away again and finished compiling his list. He'd give it to Aevryn tonight. And then they could talk about what it was that Aevryn needed him for, he would do it, and they could put this whole thing behind them.

That simple.

M'yu rose, collected his notes, and sat in the foyer to wait for Aevryn.

Not five minutes later, the door flew open. "Mykta," Aevryn shouted toward the stairs. M'yu stood, and Aevryn's gaze landed on him. "Good, you're here." Evriss moved to take Aevryn's coat, and the man shook him off. "Not now. Boy, go get dressed."

M'yu looked down.

"For dinner. Go. The blue suit. And comb your hair."

"I thought we were going to—"

"We don't have time to argue today. Now!"

M'yu ran off, legs a little wobbly but still enjoying the exercise. He pumped up the three flights of stairs, caught his breath, then burst into his room. Aevryn's daughter lay on his bed, feet kicking in the air, a fairytale book spread out beneath her hands. "Shhh!" she hissed. "I'm reading."

"Ghostie, I need to change."

She giggled. "My name's not Ghostie."

"Seriously, Ashya," he said, flinging his wardrobe open. "Aevryn's waiting."

She flipped a page in her book, rolled over on her back, and held it above her head. In a dramatic voice, she read aloud, "And here the charming prince ate of the cursed fruit, choked, and fell into a dreamless sleep!"

"Could you get out of here?" Hanger in hand, chased her from the bed. She shrieked, running out of his reach.

"Where are you going to dinner?"