Broken Throne - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,95

of light circle around our joined fingers. Evangeline is still, her face carved from stone.

“I believe that’s why I brought us here in the first place,” she says softly. “I wanted our freedom. And I wanted you safe.”

I blink away tears of frustration. She’s so good at turning arguments back on her opponents. I’m just usually not one of them. “Evangeline, I won’t be in danger. I’ve told you that so many times.”

“If you’re going to keep telling me to attend the abdication, then I’m going to keep telling you to decline Davidson’s offer.” Despite her combative tone, her thumb grazes the back of my hand. Such is Evangeline’s way. To push me aside while pulling me closer.

“These things are not the same, not by a long shot,” I tell her. “And you don’t see me trying to persuade you away from patrol service.”

She tips her head back and laughs. “Because I’m much better at fighting than you are.”

I try to match her laugh. It comes out hollow, a mockery. And I speak without thinking. “Some of the best warriors in the world end up in early graves.”

Her fingers rip from mine and she recoils as if burned. Evangeline turns so quickly I almost miss the tears springing to her eyes. Naturally, I try to follow, but she waves me back, palm up and shaking. Her rings, bracelet, and necklace quiver and dance, spinning around her. Mirroring her pain.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, feeling like a prize fool.

Her father, Elane, she’s remembering him. A great warrior in an early grave. Even though Volo Samos kept her trapped, he made her what she is. So strong, so fierce. And she loved him, no matter what anyone else thought. She loved him and she let him die. I know she blames herself. She still has nightmares about it. Escaping her cage, and paying for it with a man’s life.

All thoughts of the abdication and my future profession melt away. Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around her, laying my cheek against her back. The wool sweater scratches, caught between my face and her shoulder blade.

“Eve, I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to remind you.”

“It’s fine,” she clips back. “Every door hinge reminds me.”

Every earring. Every lock. Every lamp. Every knife. Every gun. Every piece of metal within her perception. He taught her as much, made her into the weapon she is now. No wonder she always runs to the garden. She escaped him, but never his memory.

At least she’s letting me hold her. That’s a start. And an opportunity. A responsibility.

“I know you like to pretend to be made of iron,” I murmur, tightening my grip. She leans into me, her shoulders rising and falling. “Even in your heart, my love. I know better, and you don’t have to hide with me.”

The letter in the salon seems to burn a hole in my brain. She must abdicate with Ptolemus. It’s the best way to end this, the safest way. It might not save us any more bloodshed, but it will save her any more guilt. I don’t know how much more of this she can stand.

“I know why you won’t go back to the Rift,” I murmur against her. She stiffens but doesn’t run. A good sign. “You’re afraid your mother will be there.”

Evangeline breaks my hold on her so easily, I almost don’t notice she’s gone.

The door slams behind her, and I am left alone.

THREE

Evangeline

I’m on the other side of the premier’s estate before I feel like I can catch my breath. Once, I might have blamed the altitude, but I’m long since accustomed to the thin air. No, the tightness in my chest is from inconvenient, idiotic feelings. Not to mention the usual shame.

Elane is no stranger to my tears. That doesn’t mean I enjoy crying in front of her, or showing weakness of any kind. To anyone. For as brutal as the Nortan court was, I understood it. It was a game I played well, shielded by my jewels and armor and family, all as fearsome as any other. Not anymore.

I wasn’t there; I didn’t see him die. But I heard enough of the whispers to know the ending he met, and I dream of it anyway. Almost every night, I wake up with that image in my head. Volo Samos, striding across the battlefield, stepping onto the bridge. His dark eyes are glazed and faraway. Julian Jacos sang to him, and sent him walking to his

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