War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,201
could be with Farley and the premier?
The library isn’t difficult to find. It’s one floor up, occupying a large expanse of the eastern side of the palace. Guards flank the double doors, but they don’t stop me as I approach, letting me pass in silence. Like the rest of the compound, the library is bright and cheerful, wood-paneled in lacquered, gleaming oak. The chamber is lined with double rows of shelving, the second story ringed by a narrow landing railed in bronze. Currently, soldiers of the Scarlet Guard perch there, blazing in their red uniforms, guns hanging bare. They note me as I enter, tense but ready to protect their charges should I pose a threat.
The Red generals of Command.
Farley sits with them in the center of the room, on green leather couches arranged in a half circle. Ada is with them too, having returned after long weeks with Command. She stands to the side with her arms crossed. Silent, observing everything. She offers me a shadow of a smile as I approach.
The Scarlet Guard faces a corresponding arrangement of chairs, all occupied by Montfort officers and politicians, with Davidson himself in the center. They murmur in low voices, undisturbed by my presence. Or perhaps expecting it.
Again, I feel too dirty to be here, stinking of the cold and the mountain. But I really shouldn’t worry. The Command generals are as disheveled as I feel, if not more so. They just arrived from wherever their roving headquarters were. They look like Farley, not in appearance but in attitude. If Farley had thirty or more years under her belt, a lifetime of hard-lived and hard-won survival. The three men and three women are all gray-haired, with short haircuts like Farley’s own. I wonder if she wanted to imitate them. Because, despite their similarities, Farley sits in harsh contrast to them all. She is still young, still blooming. Their firebrand.
Her father stands among the many officers lining the landing above, leaning against the railing, hands knit together. If he’s jealous of his daughter and her position, he doesn’t show it. He glances at me as I enter, and even dips his head in greeting, his red eye glowering.
The low conversation continues as I move closer. Farley shifts a little, making room for me next to her. But I’m not a general. I’m not Command. I haven’t earned the right to sit. I fall in behind her, close as a guardian, and cross my arms over my chest.
“Good to meet you, Miss Barrow,” a curly-haired general says, turning to look at me over her shoulder with the stern eye of a teacher. As if I’ve just disturbed a particularly important lesson. I nod in return, not wanting to interrupt the meeting any further. Though the subject matter does not seem dire. Many advisers talk among themselves, and conversation buzzes among the soldiers above.
“We’ve only just finished introductions,” Ada offers kindly, sidling up next to me.
Farley watches with a glint in her eye. She leans, whispering in my direction. “Don’t mind Swan,” she adds, nudging the female general. “She’s just giving you a hard time.”
To my surprise, the older woman smirks a little. They have a familiar way about them, like old friends or even family. But they share very little resemblance. Swan is short and slim, with sandy skin dusted in dark freckles. They give her an almost childish look, despite her lines of age.
“General Swan,” I murmur, ducking my head again in an attempt to be polite. She returns in kind, smiling this time.
Under her breath, Ada rattles off the other generals seated on the remaining couches. After her time at their headquarters, she knows them well. The remaining women are Horizon and Sentry, and the men are Drummer, Crimson, and Southern. Code names, clearly. Still in use, even here.
“General Palace is still in Norta, keeping our operations moving,” Ada says. “She’ll relay whatever we can dig up, in Norta and on the borders.”
“What about the Lakelands?” I ask. “Iris is going to invade, and we’ll need to know when.” A few weeks, Jon said. Not nearly specific enough.
Swan clears her throat. “The Lakelanders closed the borders. I wasn’t sure I would be able to get myself out, let alone my staff, and we went as quickly as we could.” Her eyes darken. “Took some doing, if you catch my meaning.”
Grimly, I nod and try not to think about how many dead friends she left behind.