War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,167

give over in return?

I need to run. Grab Tolly. Charge right into the sea.

Quickly, I clamber back down the hill to stand by my brother. The false king should be distraction enough. Don’t make it easy for the nymphs. Get to the jet. Get home.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Evangeline!” Maven crows, contorting himself so he can smooth back his hair. It keeps falling back into his eyes. “You’re not worth me, no matter how highly you think of yourself.”

At his call, the others turn to look at me as I edge away, Ptolemus tight in my grip. I search for a single friendly face, and find that Mare Barrow comes closest. Her eyes dart between me and my hand on Tolly’s arm. Something like pity wells up in her, and I want to cut it out with a knife.

“Then who?” I lift my chin, relying on pride as armor. “You trading yourself again, Barrow?”

She blinks, her pity melting into fury. I prefer it.

“No,” Julian says, returning with the guards. Like the Lakelanders, they’re dragging a prisoner from their jet.

The last time I saw Salin Iral, he was stripped of his titles, nearly choked to death at my father’s hand for his foolishness and pride. He killed the Lakelander king outside the walls of Corvium, against orders, for nothing more than a pat on the head. He was too shortsighted to see that that would only strengthen the Lakelander alliance with Maven, and the resolve of both their queens. Now he’ll pay for that mistake with his life.

Salin hangs loose, his eyes oddly empty. He stares at his feet, and despite the weak grip from either guard, he doesn’t try to run. With Julian Jacos standing close, I can see why. I doubt he’s been given permission to run.

“What is this—I didn’t authorize any—” Cal sputters, looming over his grandmother. Gently, she puts a hand to his chest, pushing her king backward.

“But you’ll do it. Won’t you, Cal?” she says sweetly. With only the tenderness a mother can give, she reaches up to cup his face. “We can end this war today, right now. This is the cost. One life, instead of thousands.”

It isn’t a difficult choice to make.

“That’s right, Cal. You’re doing this to save lives, aren’t you?” Maven says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Words are the only weapon he has left. “Noble to the last.”

Slowly, Cal raises his eyes to stare at his brother. Even Maven falls silent, letting the moment stretch and burn. Neither blinks. Neither falters. The younger Calore continues to sneer, daring his brother to react. Cal’s face never changes and he doesn’t say a word. But he speaks volumes as he tips his shoulder, stepping out of his grandmother’s path.

Julian puts a finger to Salin’s face, lifting his head so their eyes meet. “Walk to the queens,” he says, and I hear the melodious ability of a talented singer. The kind who could bewitch us all if he wanted, and sing his way to a throne. Luckily for all of us, Julian Jacos has no interest in power.

Despite his haze, Salin Iral is a silk, and his footsteps are graceful. He crosses the meager distance between our party and Maven. The Lakelander queens look like women starved, watching a meal approach. Iris grabs Salin by the neck, kicks the backs of his legs, and forces him to kneel in the water, hands submerged.

“Send him across,” Cenra says quietly, waving a hand toward Maven.

All of this seems wrong, as if filtered through smoked glass, too slow to be real. But it is. The Lakelander guards shove Maven ahead, making him stumble toward his brother. He still grins, spitting blood, but tears gleam in his eyes. He’s losing control, and the tight grip he keeps on himself is coming undone.

He knows this is the end. Maven Calore has lost.

The guards keep shoving, never letting him catch his balance. It’s a pitiful sight. He starts whispering to himself, harried words between peals of sharp laughter.

“I did as you said,” he mutters to no one. “I did as you said.”

Before he can fall at his brother’s feet, Anabel steps forward, planting herself firmly between the pair of them. Protective as a tiger.

“Not a step closer to the true king,” she growls. The woman is smart not to trust him, even now, with nothing left.

Maven sinks to a knee and runs a hand through his hair, mussing the dark, wet curls. He glares at his brother with all the