War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,109

her. She regards me with equal disdain. “An impossible thing.”

“No, not stand down. Appearances must be maintained, of course,” Anabel says, splaying those wretched fingers. I watch each one as they drum a rhythm against her leg. “But I’m sure we can find some compromise other than open war between our two sovereigns.”

Once more, I glance at my guards behind glass, bewitched into ignoring us. The road through the window is unfamiliar. To me, at least. I grit my teeth. “He is no sovereign. Our alliance is not with Tiberias Calore, a traitor to his kingdom and his kind.”

The uncle tips his head to one side, surveying me like a painting. He blinks slowly. “Your husband is better at that lie than you are.”

Husband. The reminder of my place here and my position at Maven’s side is an easy jab, but it stings nonetheless. “Lie or not, the people believe it,” I hiss back at him. “Red and Silver, all over this country, they believe what they are told. And they will fight for the person they think Maven is.”

To my surprise, Anabel nods. Her face falls, a picture of concern. “That’s what we’re afraid of. And that’s why we’re here. To prevent as much bloodshed as we can.”

“Anabel Lerolan, you should have been an actress,” I chuckle darkly.

She just waves a hand, glancing out the window. Her lips curve into the ghost of a smile. “I was a great patroness of the arts, a lifetime ago.” For some reason, Julian glances at her, his eyes softening. She glances back, oddly reserved. Something passes between them. An unspoken word or a shared memory, perhaps.

Anabel recovers first, looking back to me. Her voice is stern, and I feel scolded without a reprimand. “When Tiberias wins the throne, he is prepared to offer land and money in exchange for Lakelander cooperation.”

I raise one eyebrow, the only indication of any interest. After all, who knows where this might lead. Keeping options open is smart.

She knows what I’m doing and pushes on. “The entirety of the Choke ceded over.”

Again I have to laugh, tossing back my head. The moisture against my skin, an almost shield, prickles against me. “Useless land,” I scoff. “A minefield. You’re gifting us with a chore.”

The old queen pretends not to hear me. “And a betrothal to Tiberias’s heir, a child of Calore and Samos. Twice royal, an heir to two kingdoms.”

For appearance sake, I keep laughing. But my stomach churns with revulsion. She’s trying to barter with an unborn child. Either mine or Tiora’s. Our own flesh and blood. Consent be damned. At the very least, I agreed to my own arrangement. But doing the same to a baby? Disgusting.

“And what about your Red dogs?” I ask, leaning forward into her territory. It’s my turn to push back. “The Scarlet Guard? The blood freaks of Montfort? Mare Barrow and her kind?”

Julian answers before Anabel can. She doesn’t seem pleased—either by his manner or by his intent. “You mean the next step in our evolution?” he says. “It isn’t wise to fear the future, Your Majesty. That never ends well.”

“Futures can be prevented, Lord Jacos.” I think of the other newblood pet Maven lost, the one who could see too far into the future. I only heard rumors of him, but the rumors were enough. He could see every path as it changed. Even fates that would never come to fruition.

“Not this one.” Julian shakes his head. I can’t tell if he’s happy or regretful. The man is an odd, sad soul. Tormented by a woman, no doubt, as most men like him are. “Not now.”

I look between them and do not like what I see. Each could kill me if they wanted, and despite all my training, I would go down easily. But if they were here to murder me, they would have done it already.

“You’ve lost Piedmont, so you want the Lakelands,” I mutter. “You know you can’t win without one of us doing your dirty work.”

“We do enough dirty work of our own, Princess,” Anabel replies, her voice low and annoyed. She puts emphasis on my born title. She doesn’t recognize Maven as king, so she wouldn’t see me as a queen.

“You put so much stock in your Montfort shield,” I tell them both. “Are their newbloods really enough to outweigh the might of our three nations?”

Julian folds his hands in his lap, thoughtful. He is more difficult to unsettle. “I think we all know that the