Broken Throne - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,129

packets of information. Most of the pages pile up in front of the premier, who arranges them carefully with a thin-lipped smile.

Representative Radis is close on Davidson’s right, whispering to him behind one long-fingered hand. I catch the premier’s eye as I pass him, and we exchange nods. He seems more serene than the last time I saw him, despite the chaos bubbling around us. I get the feeling that all-out war is not his field of expertise, despite his newblood ability. He likes to fight with a pen rather than gunpowder.

I won’t be sitting with the Montfort delegation, at least not today. Even though my family lives here, and I’ll probably become a citizen eventually, I’m Scarlet Guard first. I said my oath to Farley before I even knew Montfort existed, and I’m proud to take a seat next to her at the Guard table. Behind us, various officers and diplomats fill in, from all corners of the eastern continent. Four Command generals, Farley included, hold the center of the table, alike in uniform and stern bearing. They make for an intimidating sight.

With a swoop of unease, I wish I had just worn the damn red uniform.

A cold shiver runs through me at the sight of Evangeline Samos, sitting quietly in the second row, peacefully resigned to her place. I didn’t notice her at first. Even with the silver hair, she somehow manages to blend in with the rest of the Montfort delegation. Her clothes don’t glint or shine like they used to. Instead her uniform is dark green and unremarkable, with no medals or insignia. Her brother is the same, close at her side with his head bowed.

She watches me, her lethal hands folded in her lap.

I almost smile at the sight of her fingers.

While her clothes are rather plain, her hands are laden with rings of all kinds, in every metal, sharp and ready to bend to her will. Knowing Evangeline, she has other metals hidden all over her body. Even here, in a meeting of diplomats, she’s prepared to cut throats if she has to.

I meet her charcoal eyes and she smirks, never bowing her head. Once, that look might have filled me with dread. Now I feel only assurance. Evangeline is a mighty ally, no matter what we started as. Though she will never return the gesture, I bend my neck toward her and nod. Ptolemus is good enough to keep his head bowed, eyes averted from me. I want nothing to do with my brother’s killer, even as he repents for that sin and so many others.

As I watch, Radis turns in his seat, looking over his shoulder to whisper something to Evangeline and Ptolemus. Their whispers hiss, the words inaudible. The three Silvers remain in close confidence, and it doesn’t bother the premier at all. Their alliance has been cemented—even I received word of the Samos abdication and Evangeline’s pledge to Montfort.

I’m still looking at them when the last delegation enters the library, all of them organized and moving as one. Ada Wallace leads, her eyes on the room. She glances back and forth, noting every face and committing it to her perfect memory. She looks the same as I remember. Skin like deep gold, dark brown hair, eyes too kind for all she has seen and all she remembers. As one of the States’ representatives, she wears a neat black uniform and a pin at her collar. The three interlocking rings are easy to decipher—red for Reds, white for newbloods, silver for Silvers. I can think of no one better to serve the Nortan States and their campaign. My hands close on the edge of the table, keeping me in place. If we were anywhere else, I would hug her.

Julian Jacos follows on her heels, his clothing spare but fine. The sight of him releases some tension in my chest. He looks odd without his colors, wearing black instead of his usual yellow. For once, he seems quite dashing, and younger somehow. Unburdened. Happy, even. It looks good on him.

The so-called common Silvers wear the suited uniform too, delineated from Reds and newbloods only by the cold undertone of their skin. To my pleasant surprise, they walk closely with their red-blooded counterparts. As merchants, tradesmen, soldiers, and craftsmen, the common Silvers are not as separate from Reds as the nobles are.

Of course, the nobles from the Nortan States are hardly so modern in their clothing, though they also wear the pin. I

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