War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,10
as she speaks, wary of his response. “So Lord Jacos and Mare Barrow will represent the true king of Norta alongside—”
His bracelet sparks, birthing a small red flame. It walks along his knuckles slowly.
“The true king will represent himself,” Cal says, his eyes on the fire.
Across the room, Mare clenches her teeth. It takes all my restraint to stay silent in my seat, but inside, I cheer and dance. So easily done.
“Tiberias,” Anabel hisses. He doesn’t bother to respond. And she can’t press him. You did this to yourself, you stupid old woman. You named him king. Now obey.
“I admit, I have some of Uncle Julian’s—and my mother’s—natural curiosity,” Cal says. He softens at the mention and memory of his mother. Admittedly, I don’t know much about her. Coriane Jacos was not a subject Queen Elara tolerated well. “I want to visit this Free Republic, and discover if all the stories are true.” Then his voice lowers. He looks at Mare with such intensity, as if he can will her to return his gaze. She doesn’t. “I like to see things for myself.”
Davidson nods with a flicker in his eye, his blank mask slipping a little, just for a second. “You are most welcome, Your Majesty.”
“Good.” Cal winks out the fire before rapping his knuckles on the table. “Then it’s settled.”
His grandmother purses her lips, giving her the appearance of having eaten something sour. “Settled?” she scoffs. “Nothing’s settled. You need to plant your flag in Delphie, proclaim your capital; you need to win territory, win resources, win the people, sway more of the High Houses to your side—”
Cal is undeterred. “I do need resources, Grandmother. Soldiers. Montfort has them.”
“You’re very right,” Father says, his voice a deep rumble that puts an old fear in my heart.
Is he angry with me for pushing this? Or is he pleased? As a child, I learned what it was to cross Volo Samos. You became a ghost. Ignored, unwanted. Until you earned your way back to his love with achievement and intelligence.
Out of the corner of my eye, I look at my father. The king of the Rift sits tall on his throne, pale and perfect. Beneath his meticulously manicured beard, I catch sight of a smirk. And I breathe a small, silent sight of relief.
“A plea from the rightful king of Norta himself will go far with the premier’s government,” Father continues. “And it will only strengthen this alliance of ours. So it’s only right I send an envoy of my own, to represent the Kingdom of the Rift as well.”
Not Tolly—don’t! my mind screams. Mare Barrow promised not to kill him, but I hardly trust her word, especially under such opportune circumstances. I can already see it. A foolish accident that would be anything but. And Elane will have to go too, his dutiful wife at his side. If Father sends Tolly, we’ll get back a corpse.
“Evangeline will go with you.”
Nausea wipes out relief in a heartbeat.
I’m torn between calling for another cup of wine and vomiting all over my own feet. Voices scream in my head, every one saying the same thing.
You did this to yourself, you stupid little girl.
THREE
Mare
My laughter echoes down the eastern walls and over the dark fields. I double over, hands pressed against the smooth parapet, gasping for breath. I can’t control it. True laughter, the deep kind from the pit of my stomach, takes over. The noise is hollow, harsh, and dusty from disuse. My scars bite, stinging along my neck and spine, but I can’t hold it back. I laugh until my ribs hurt and I have to sit down, putting my back against the cold stone. It doesn’t stop, and even when I bite my lips closed, little bursts still make it through.
No one can hear me but the patrols, and I doubt they care about a single girl laughing alone in the darkness. I’ve earned the right to laugh or cry or scream as I see fit. Little pieces of me want to do all three. But laughter wins out.
I sound deranged, and maybe I am. I certainly have an excuse, after today. People are still clearing bodies from the other side of Corvium. Cal chose his crown over everything I thought we were fighting for. Both are still bleeding wounds no healer can fix. Wounds I have to ignore right now, for my own sanity. The only thing I can do is put my face in my hands, clench my teeth,