War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,202

and politicians, almost all of them Red. A few Silvers of Montfort sit with Davidson, but they are greatly outnumbered. I recognize Radis, the blond representative from the Gallery, among them. He nods his head in the smallest acknowledgment.

Davidson does the same, meeting my gaze.

With a flush, I clear my throat loudly, stepping out a little. Only the nearby generals turn to look at me. Their soldiers are more difficult to silence, and I have to try again, with more force. Slowly but surely, quiet ripples through them, until every eye in the library lands on me. I swallow hard against the familiar but still unsettling sensation. Don’t flinch. Don’t blush. Don’t hesitate.

“My name is Mare Barrow,” I say to the assembled crowd. Someone on the landing scoffs quietly. I suppose I need no introduction at this point. “Thank you for coming here.” I push on, searching for the right way to say what I have to. A man who can see the entire future passed along some tips just doesn’t sound right. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I was . . . climbing. And I met a man on the mountain.”

“Is that a metaphor?” General Crimson mutters gruffly, only to be hushed by the aptly named Drummer, a fantastically round man.

I glance at Ada, then down at Farley. “Jon,” I explain, and her eyes widen. The shock on her face speaks volumes to the room. “He’s a newblood seer, and we’ve dealt with him before.”

Davidson raises his chin. “So has Maven. If I’m not mistaken, that man was instrumental in your capture.”

“Yes,” I mutter, almost ashamed.

The premier purses his lips. “And he served Maven for a time.”

I nod again. “He did. For his own reasons.”

Even though several of his compatriots look dismissive, Davidson leans forward on his elbows, fixing me with his intense, unreadable gaze. “What did he say, Mare?”

“That we can’t let the Nortan capital fall to the Lakelands,” I reply. “If we do, the road will be ‘long and bloody.’ Worse than anything before. If they win Archeon, the Lakelands will control Norta for a hundred years.”

Radis huffs, inspecting his polished nails. He isn’t the only one to roll their eyes at such a statement. “I don’t need a seer to know that,” he mutters.

A few of the generals bob their heads in agreement. Swan speaks for them. “We know an invasion is coming; it’s just a matter of when.”

“A few weeks.” I can already feel the clock ticking against us. “That’s what Jon told me.”

Swan narrows her eyes, not with unkindness or suspicion, but with pity. “And you believe him? After all he did to you?”

Images flash in my head, memories of my captivity. The prison Jon bought me with whatever scheme of fate he put in motion. I told him before that I didn’t like being his pawn, and it’s exactly what I’m doing now.

“Somehow, I think I do,” I reply, fighting to keep my voice firm.

The words set off another round of murmurs and even a bit of shouting. From the generals, the representatives, even the soldiers above us.

Only three of us remain silent, trading glances.

Farley, Davidson, and myself.

As I look between them, jumping from golden eyes to blue, I see the same resolve in both of them, and feel it in myself.

We’ll fight again. We just need to figure out how.

As usual, Farley jumps in first.

She stands up, hands outstretched, motioning for quiet. It works a little, silencing her soldiers as well as the generals. Some of the Montfort diplomats still whisper among themselves.

“We need a plan,” she barks. “Regardless of what the seer says, we all know this road leads to Archeon. Montfort and the Scarlet Guard have to be able to overthrow the Nortan capital if we want any chance of freeing the country. No matter who sits on the throne.”

Swan nods. “I was stationed in the Lakelands before we fled here. I’ve seen more of their strength than anyone here. If the Cygnet queens gain the city before we can, it will be almost impossible to take it back. It’s in our best interest to fight the weaker enemy.”

Cal. Never have I thought of him as the weaker half of anything, but it’s certainly true. His position is precarious at best. I try not to picture him alone in his palace, trying to balance the world his father and brother broke.

“You still have Scarlet Guard in Archeon, yes?” Davidson asks, and his voice is enough to quiet the rest of