and fight my infernal, idiotic laugh.
This is complete and total lunacy.
Evangeline, Cal, and me, all headed to Montfort. What a terrific joke.
I said as much in my message to Kilorn, still safe back in Piedmont. He would want to know about everything, as much as I could say. After I convinced him to stay behind, it’s only fair to keep him in the loop. And of course, I want him in the loop. I want someone else to laugh with me, and curse over what’s to come.
I chuckle darkly again, tipping my head back against the stonework. The stars above me are pinpricks, dimmed by the city lights of Corvium as well as the rising moon. The stars seem to watch, looking down at the fortress city. I wonder if Iris Cygnet’s gods are laughing with me. If they even exist.
I wonder if Jon is laughing too.
The thought of him chills my blood, killing whatever manic giggle I have left. That wretched, prophesizing newblood is out there somewhere, having escaped us. But to do what? Sit on a hill and watch? Let his red eyes tick back and forth as we all kill each other? Is he some kind of game master, content to nudge us into position and play out whatever future he chooses? If it were remotely possible, I would try to find him. Force him to protect us from lethal fate. But that’s absurd. He’ll see me coming. We can only find Jon if he wants to be found.
Frustrated, I scrub my fingers over my face and scalp, letting my nails drag across my skin. The sharp sensation brings me back to reality, little by little. So does the cold. The stone beneath my body loses warmth as night wears on. The thin fabric of my uniform does little to keep me from shivering, while the sharp, solid edges of the wall are hardly comfortable. Still, I don’t move.
Moving means sleep, but it also means going back down. To the others, to the barracks. Even if I don my best scowl and run, I’ll have to face Reds and newbloods and Silvers too. Julian, certainly. I can just imagine him waiting on my cot, ready with another lecture. What he could possibly say, I don’t know.
He’ll side with Cal, I think. At the end of all this. When it becomes clear we won’t let Cal keep his throne. Silvers are nothing if not loyal to blood. And Julian is nothing if not loyal to his dead sister. Cal is the last piece of her left. He won’t turn his back on that, even for all his talk of revolution and history. He won’t leave Cal alone.
Tiberias. Call. Him. Tiberias.
It even hurts to think the name. His real name. His future. Tiberias Calore the Seventh, King of Norta, Flame of the North. I picture him on his brother’s throne, safe in a cage of Silent Stone. Or would he drag out the diamondglass inferno his father sat? Destroy every shred of Maven, erase him from history? He’ll rebuild his father’s palace. The Kingdom of Norta will return to the way it was. Except for the Samos king in the Rift, everything will go back to what it was meant to be the day I fell into the arena.
Making everything that has occurred since that day be for nothing.
I refuse to let that happen.
And, luckily, I’m not alone in this endeavor.
The moonlight glows on the black stone, making the gold accents of every tower and parapet gleam silver. Patrols wind below me, guards in red and green uniforms keeping watch. Scarlet Guard and Montfort. Their counterparts, Silvers in house colors, are less frequent, and they clump together. Yellow Laris, black Haven, red and blue Iral, red and orange Lerolan. No Samos colors. They’re royal now, thanks to Volo’s ambition and opportunity. No need to waste their time on something as ordinary as the nightly rounds.
I wonder what Maven thinks of that. He fixated on Tiberias so much, I can only imagine the weight of another rival king like Volo. Everything revolved around his brother, even though Maven seemingly had everything he could want. The crown, the throne, me. He still felt that shadow. Elara’s doing. She coiled and curled him into what she needed, cutting away and building up in equal measure. His obsession helped fuel his need for power, and enabled her own. Will it extend to King Volo? Or are Maven’s darkest and most dangerous desires restricted