War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,1

And especially not with Cal—Tiberias, you fool—and all his empty talk of equality. Like us, Volo needs him. Needs his name, needs his crown, and needs his damn hand in that damn marriage to his damn daughter.

My face burns hot. I feel embarrassed by the plume of jealousy rising up inside me. Losing him should be the least of my worries. Losing him shouldn’t hurt as much as the possibility of dying, of losing our war, of letting everything we’ve worked for be in vain. But it does. All I can do is try to bear it.

Why didn’t I say yes?

I walked away from his offer. From him. I was torn apart by another betrayal—Cal’s betrayal, but also mine. I love you is a promise we both made, and we both broke. It should mean I choose you above all else. I want you more. I need you always. I cannot live without you. I will do anything to keep our lives from parting.

But he wouldn’t. And I won’t.

I am less than his crown, and he is less than my cause.

And less, far less, than my fear of another cage. Consort, he said, offering me an impossible crown. He would make me a queen, if Evangeline could be pushed aside again. I already know what the world looks like from a king’s right hand. I don’t care to live that life again. Even though Cal is not Maven, the throne is still the same. It changes people, corrupts them.

What a strange fate that would have been. Cal with his crown and his Samos queen and me. In spite of myself, a small part of me wishes I’d said yes. It would have been easy. A chance to let go, step back, win—and enjoy a world I never could have dreamed of. Give my family the best life possible. Keep us all safe. And stay with him. Stand at Cal’s side, a Red girl with a Silver king on her arm. With the power to change the world. To kill Maven. To sleep without nightmares, and live without fear.

I bite my lip sharply to drive away the want. It seduces, and I almost understand his choice. Even ripped apart, we suit each other.

Farley shifts loudly, drawing my attention. She sighs as she puts her back to the alley wall, arms folded across her chest. Unlike Davidson, she hasn’t bothered to change out of her bloody uniform. Hers isn’t as disgusting as mine, free of mud and muck. There’s silver blood on her, of course, now dried black. It’s only been a few months since Clara was born, and she wears the lingering weight around her hips proudly. Whatever sympathy she had disappears, replaced by a rage sparking in her blue eyes. Not directed at me, though. She looks skyward, at the tower above us. Where the strange council of Silvers and Reds now tries to decide our fates.

“That was him in there.” She doesn’t wait for me to ask who. “Silver hair, thick neck, ridiculous armor. And somehow still breathing, even though he put a blade through Shade’s heart.”

My nails dig deeper at the thought of Ptolemus Samos. Prince of the Rift. My brother’s killer. Like Farley, I feel a sudden rage too. And an equal burst of shame.

“Yes.”

“Because you made a bargain with his sister. Your freedom for his life.”

“For my vengeance,” I mumble in admission. “And yes, I gave Evangeline my word.”

Farley bares her teeth, her disgust evident. “You gave a Silver your word. That promise is less than ash.”

“But a promise still.”

She makes a guttural sound deep in her throat, like a growl. Her broad shoulders square and she turns her body to face the tower fully. I wonder how much restraint it’s taking to stop her from marching back up there to rip Ptolemus’s eyes out of his skull. I wouldn’t stop her if she could. In fact, I’d pull up a chair and watch.

I let my fist open a bit, putting away the slice of pain. Quietly, I take a step forward, closing the space between us. After a split second of hesitation, I put a hand on her arm. “A promise I made. Not you. Not anyone else.”

Farley stills a bit, and her snarl becomes a smirk. She turns to look at me head-on, her eyes brightly blue as they catch a shaft of sunlight. “I think you might be better suited to politics than war, Mare Barrow.”

I offer a pained smile. “They’re the same