Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 517
the great bronze doors were invisible under piled stone and
bracing timbers, and the deep carpets and tapestries were grey
with powdered stone and sawdust from the effort of blocking
up the entrance. There was no one here now, but overturned
tables and other barricades lay ranked like pews aimed at the
entrance. Should the attackers get this far, the defenders would
assail them from behind these barricades, killing and dying to
prevent even so much as a single man from running up the
stairs that had been built to welcome visitors. They would all
die in the end, of course, and they knew it. Lavin’s men would
spill into the tower; they would force her duennas up against
the walls and kick down her door. By then she would be dead.
Everyone knew that too. But nothing in heaven or earth could
alter the course of things.
Except one thing...
Galas’ breath caught in her throat. She nearly fell, and
braced herself on the stone balustrade that she had slid down
once as a girl--when she was merely the mad princess.
If she were to die now, the siege would end without
further bloodshed. It was simple.
"Oh," she said aloud. If she cast herself from the tower,
in full view of both attackers and defenders, then Matthias
would live, Armiger and his Megan would live, her maids and
cooks and the refugees from the experimental towns would be
spared. They would be so disappointed in her, of course; and
no one would ever follow the teachings of a suicide.
They won’t understand, she thought, as she walked
slowly up the flight that led to the audience chamber. "How
could they?"
She had no one person to love. Of necessity, she had to
love all those around her--her defenders, the naive and
idealistic fools who had swallowed her half-truths knowing