War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,198

trickle past, running down the mountainside to pool in the lake far below. I look back through the gaps in the pines, into the valley. The mountains dwarf Ascendant, and the foreign capital looks like a child’s toy from this distance. White blocks strewn around ribbon-thin roads and winding stairs. The mountain range seems endless, a jagged wall of stone and snow dividing the world in half. Above, the clear blue sky beckons me to continue the climb. I do my best, stopping at the streams to drink and splash my red, sweaty face.

Occasionally I fish out crackers from my pack or strips of salted meat. I wonder if the smell might lure a bear or a wolf across my path.

I have my lightning, of course, close as the breath in my lungs. But no predator ever comes near. I think they know I’m as dangerous as they are.

All except for one.

At first I mistake him for an outcropping of rock, silhouetted against the perfect blue, still in gray clothing. The pines are sparser at this high altitude, offering little shade from the noon sun. I have to blink, rubbing my eyes, before I realize what I’m looking at.

Who I’m looking at.

My lightning splits the granite boulder beneath him in two. He moves before it strikes, sliding off into the rocks.

“You bastard,” I snarl, advancing with speed, the adrenaline sudden and surging in my blood. It drives me, as does frustration. Because I know, no matter how fast I am, no matter how strong my lightning, I’ll never catch him.

Jon will always see me coming.

His laughter echoes over the slope, coming from higher up. I snarl to myself and follow the sound, letting him lead me. He laughs and laughs, and I climb and climb. By the time we’re out of the trees, over earth too high for anything to grow, the air has turned harsh and cold. I choke down a gasp of anger, letting the temperature shock my lungs. And I slump, unable to go any farther. Unwilling to let Jon, or anyone, control where I go and what I do.

But mostly I’m just exhausted.

I lean back, bumping against a large boulder smoothed by centuries of unforgiving wind and snow.

My breathing comes hard and heavy. I think I might never catch my breath, just as I’ll never catch the damned seer.

“The altitude,” his voice says. “It makes everything difficult if you aren’t used to it. Even your fire prince would have a hard time climbing his first mountain.”

I’m too tired to do much more than glance at him, eyes half lidded. He perches above me, legs dangling. Jon is dressed for the mountain weather, in a thick coat, with well-worn boots on his feet. I wonder how long he’s been walking, or how long he had to wait up here for me.

“You know as well as I do he isn’t a prince anymore,” I answer, choosing my words very carefully. Maybe I can get him to reveal something, just a sniff of the future ahead of us all. “Just like you know how long he’ll be a king.”

“Yes,” he replies, smirking slightly. Of course he knows what I’m doing, and he says only what he intends to say.

I heave another heavy breath, sucking air into my starved lungs. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking in the view.”

He still hasn’t looked at me, his red eyes trained on the horizon. The sight before us is amazing, more splendid than it was a thousand feet below. I really do feel small, and large, everything and nothing, sitting here on the rim of the world. My breath fogs before my eyes, a testament to the chill. I can’t stay long. Not if I want to get down before nightfall.

I wish I could take Jon’s head with me.

“I told you this would happen,” he murmurs.

Snarling, I bare my teeth at him. “You didn’t tell me anything. My brother might be alive if you did. Thousands of people—”

“Have you considered the alternative?” he snaps. “That what I did, what I said and didn’t say, did and didn’t do, saved more?”

I ball a fist and kick my foot, sending a shower of gravel skittering down the slope. “Have you considered just keeping your nose out of everything?”

Jon barks a laugh. “Many times. But whether I involve myself or not, I see the path. I see the destination. And sometimes I just can’t let it happen.”

“So nice you get to decide,” I sneer, bitter as I