War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,147

drop to my knees in front of my mother, taking her hands in mine. The pleading image of a child is sure to stir her. “I know Mare Barrow, Mother,” I tell her, hoping she hears me. “Reds are made of stronger stuff than we realize. Yes, we make them think themselves inferior, insignificant, to keep them controlled. But we risk falling into our own trap if we forget to fear them too.”

My words fall on deaf ears. She pulls one hand away, using it to smooth my hair away from my face. “Mare Barrow isn’t Red, Iris.”

Her blood certainly is, I think, keeping the retort to myself.

Mother continues to run her fingers through my hair, combing out the strands. “All will be well. All will be taken care of,” she croons, as if to soothe a baby. “We’ll drown our enemies and return to our peace, safe at home. The glory of the Lakelands will wash forth to this very coast. Across Prairie, into those infernal mountains. To the borders of Ciron and Tiraxes, and Piedmont too. Your sister will rule an empire, with you at her side.”

I try to imagine what she dreams of. A map awash in blue, our dynasty secure in power. I think of Tiora, tall against a new dawn, an empress’s crown upon her head. Resplendent in sapphire and diamond, the most powerful person from shore to shore, the world kneeling at her feet. I want that future for her. I want that sanctuary so much my heart aches.

But will it ever come to pass?

“Anabel Lerolan and Julian Jacos have given me a message,” I whisper, moving my head close to Mother’s. If someone is listening at the door, they won’t hear much.

“What?” she hisses back, surprised. Her soothing hand drops. The other tightens its grip on me.

“They came to me in Archeon.”

“The capital? How?”

“Like I said, Mother,” I murmur, “I think Maven will lose this war, and lose quicker than we can imagine. They are a formidable alliance, stronger than our own. Even with Piedmont on our side.”

Her eyes widen, and I finally see a flash of fear. As much as it terrifies me, I’m glad for it. We all need to be afraid if we want to stay alive.

“What did they want?” she asks.

“They offered a deal.”

Mother’s expression sours a little. Her lips twist. “We don’t have time for dramatics, Iris. Tell me what happened.”

“They were waiting in my transport,” I say. “The Jacos singer is a talented one, and he bewitched my guards well. And the Lerolan queen is as dangerous as any.”

Her voice climbs an octave, panicked. “Does anyone know? Does Maven—”

I put a hand to her face, forcing her to quiet. The words die on her lips.

“I’d be dead if he knew.” Her skin is warm beneath my hand, soft and more wrinkled than ever before. These days have aged her. “Anabel and Julian did their work well. They need me alive and they took no chances.”

Mother sighs in relief, her breath washing over my face.

“Salin Iral,” I spit, almost unable to say the name of my father’s killer. It cuts us both like a dagger. Mother recoils, disgust marring her features. “They’ll hand him over. Let us do with him what we wish.”

Her eyes go blank and dark. After a moment, she pushes away my hand gently. “Iral is no one. A disgraced lord, stripped of his power. Alone in whatever wilderness he chooses.”

Electric anger screams down my spine. I feel myself flush, heat burning my cheeks.

“He killed Father.”

“Thank you for the clarification,” Mother replies, her voice icy. Still, that blankness in her. A shield against the agony of my father’s loss. “I was not aware.”

“I only meant—”

“He killed your father for another king,” she says slowly. “He is no one, Iris.”

“Maybe.” On shaky limbs, I force myself to my feet. I loom over her, and she has to look up to see my face. An odd position, an odd sensation. To have this power over my mother, even a power so small. I suck in another breath. “Anabel offered up Volo Samos as well.”

Below me, she blinks. Eyelids closing and opening, revealing a very different pair of eyes. They spark, alight.

“Now, that is something interesting. And perhaps impossible.”

I remember Anabel as she leaned forward, bronze eyes gleaming in the light of afternoon. There was no lie in her, only hunger. Only need. “I don’t think so.”

“What do they want in return?”

Shaking, I tell her. Let her make