War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,188
her couch, my mother can’t help but sneer. “Well, they didn’t ally with the people who kidnapped his children,” she says coolly, inspecting her nails. “For a start.”
I almost expect the Lerolan queen to lay hands on my mother, but she doesn’t move.
Father maneuvers, his voice smooth. “We’re quite able to do two things at once, King Tiberias.”
Cal responds with his usual fire. “I’m not fighting two wars, Volo. And neither are you.”
The command lingers, shocking us all. Even Mother draws back, looking to Father with fear in her eyes. For what he might do, how he could respond to such impudence.
They stare each other down, one king against another. The contrast is jarring. Cal is young, a tested warrior but a floundering politician. Driven by love, passion, some kind of fire that’s always burning inside him. My father is deadly in many ways, with weapons or words. And he is infinitely cold, a calculating statue, his heart nothing but an empty hole.
This could end everything. Cut the Rift from Norta, and me with it. But no, Father would never do that. He has plans of his own, plans I cannot fathom. And they hinge on Cal keeping his throne.
Father speaks slowly, as if restraining himself. “I’m not talking about a war with Montfort, or the Red criminals they conspire with.” He lays his hands flat on his knees, displaying many rings and bracelets. All deadly under his command. “Hit them where it hurts. Take back whatever victory they thought they won here. Be a Silver king, a king for your own people.”
The singer lord speaks first. I brace myself for his voice, always afraid of the sound. “What are you suggesting?”
Father doesn’t condescend to look at Julian. “Your proclamations will cripple this country,” he says to Cal. “Erase them.”
To my surprise, Julian laughs openly. The sound is oddly kind, a gentle sort of laughter. I’m not familiar with it. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but my nephew can’t very well reverse what he did today. That isn’t strength. That isn’t kingly at all.”
Now my father turns, fixing Julian with the full weight of his stare. “It’s a fitting punishment for their Red betrayal.”
That strikes a chord in Cal. “I rule in Norta, not you,” he says, careful to speak as clearly as possible. “Or anyone else,” he adds, shooting a meaningful look at both his uncle and his grandmother. “The proclamations remain.”
Father’s response is quick. “Not in my kingdom.”
Like Mother, I feel myself pull back as Cal steps forward, closing the distance between himself and my father. It almost looks like a challenge. “Fine,” he grinds out, glaring at the king of the Rift.
Again, they hold each other’s gaze, never blinking, never breaking. I wish I could give both of them a shove. Destroy all this for good.
Anabel intervenes before either side of the scale can tip. She cuts neatly between the kings, putting a hand to Cal’s shoulder. “We’ll pick this up in the morning, when we have clearer heads and a better view of the situation.”
Behind them, Julian rises to his feet. He adjusts his robes. “I agree, Your Majesty.”
Mother sees reason too, and she gestures for Ptolemus to follow. I stand with them, exhausted. Only Father remains sitting. He won’t break first.
Cal is less inclined to play such games. He turns away, dismissing all of us with a disinterested wave of one hand. “Very well, I’ll see you all in the morning.” Then he pauses, looking back. Not at Father. But at me. “Actually, Evangeline, could I have a word?” I blink at him, feeling very sly indeed. The rest of the room could not look more confused. “In private.”
Slowly, I sit back down as the rest go. Even Father, who prowls away with the rest of my family in tow. Only Ptolemus looks back, locking eyes with me for a moment. I wave him off. I’ll be fine; there’s nothing for him to worry about here.
Julian is quick to acquiesce to his nephew’s wishes, but Anabel lingers. “Is this something I can help with?” she asks, glancing between us.
“No, Nanabel,” Cal replies. He walks with her, deftly herding her toward the door. She notes his intention with a sour twist of her lips, but bows her head. He is her king, and she is bound to obey.
When the door shuts behind her, I relax a little, my posture drooping. Cal hesitates, his back to me, and I hear him take a shuddering breath.