me to trust anyone outside my small circle. Not yet, at least.
“Please don’t,” I asked her, holding her hands in mine. The sun was bright through the windows in our salon, but I remember feeling cold.
“It’s just a job, Eve,” she said, almost scolding me. “He wants me to be an aide. To accompany him like those newbloods. Watch his back, keep my ears open. He knows I have experience in Silver courts—I’ll be good at dealing with the Silvers here in Montfort. I know what they come from, how they think. It’s not like I haven’t done the same before.”
For you. I hear it in the spaces between her words. Yes, she’s spied for me in the past. Yes, she’s risked her life for mine, to help me and my family push pieces along. She spied on Maven more than once, and that was certainly a death sentence if she was caught.
“It’s not the same, Elane.” He doesn’t value your life the way I do. “You’ll sit in the corner at first, quiet and invisible. Then he’ll ask you to go places he can’t, or won’t. To watch, report back. You’ll spy on his political opponents, his military generals, his allies—and maybe his enemies too. Each assignment more dangerous than the last.” I tightened my grip on her, already feeling her slip away. Already I could picture Davidson convincing her to check up on a raider camp or the court of a Prairie warlord. “You’re a shadow, my love. Just think of what he’ll use you for.”
Her fingers ripped from mine. “Some of us are more than just our ability, Samos.”
I remember the sting of her voice, so sharp and so final. I expected her to march down to the premier’s office and accept the position on the spot. But she didn’t then, and she hasn’t yet. It’s been a long month since he offered her a place in Montfort, a permanent one. No matter how much she wants to fit in the mountains, she still waits.
For you.
I tip my head back, leaning against the wall of the jet. It isn’t fair, to hold her back. We will both need to pull our weight soon, and she’s right: she’s done this before. In more dangerous places, with worse consequences. Surely the premier will protect her?
Don’t be so naive, Evangeline.
Montfort isn’t Norta, but Montfort isn’t without its dangers either.
“You should rest,” Ptolemus whispers across the aisle, pulling me out of my thoughts. He doesn’t look up from the papers in front of him, scraps covered in his untidy scrawl. Our speeches won’t be long by any account, but he agonizes over his anyway. His tiny lamp illuminates the otherwise dark interior of the jet, punctuated only by the low lights along the ceiling and in the cockpit.
The Montfort delegates are all dozing, clustered at the back of the craft to give us space.
I shake my head, unwilling to speak and disturb Elane. Wren is out cold too, sprawled across the seats facing Ptolemus, curled beneath a fur-lined blanket, her face buried against the cool air.
My brother glances at me sideways, his eyes catching the weak light. He looks me over for too long, but I have nowhere to run. I can only let him look.
I wonder if the Ridge is still standing. With my father dead, I can only imagine what disarray our home has fallen into. Silver nobles fighting to fill the hole he left. Reds rising up to join the Guard, or the Nortan States, or carve out their own place. Part of me hopes the sprawling estate has been burned to the ground. The rest aches to see those rooms of steel and glass, looking out on marching hills and valleys.
My chest tightens as my mind dances around the inevitable question. I try to avoid it, edging the center of a whirlpool. It never fails to pull me under.
“Do you think she’ll be there?” I rasp, and Elane shifts, but doesn’t wake.
Ptolemus’s gaze sharpens, one eyebrow raised.
The words almost stick in my mouth. “Our mother?”
He doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t know.
I expect shame. Regret. Relief. Fear. But when I set foot on the airfield tarmac and breathe my first gasp of Rift air, the only thing I can think of is teeth. Wolf’s teeth. Pressing into my neck, not breaking skin but holding me down, pinning me in place.
I only made it a few feet.
For a split second, I’m on the floor again, my cheek pressed against cold tile.