War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,246

is growing bigger in leaps and bounds, happy and safe. With no memory of what came before her.

Not even her father.

The thought of Shade always darkens even the brightest of days, and now is no different. But the pain is less somehow. Still an ache, still bone-deep, but not so sharp. It doesn’t take my breath away anymore.

“Come on,” Farley urges, forcing me to match her quicker pace. “The faster we board, the faster we’re airborne.”

“Is that how it works?” I can’t help but retort.

A cluster of people stands by the jet idling on the runway, waiting for us and the rest of the group departing for Montfort today. Davidson is already gone, having returned to his nation a few days ago. Some of his officials have been left behind to coordinate, and I spot Tahir among them. He’s probably relaying all this to his brothers right now, allowing the Montfort premier to track the rebuilding process in real time.

Julian stands out from the pack, wearing new clothes for what is possibly the first time in his life. They gleam, golden like his house colors once were, flashing brightly in the late afternoon sun. Sara waits at his side, as does Anabel. The old woman looks incomplete without her crown, and she regards me with naked disinterest.

“Make it quick, Barrow,” Farley says, gesturing for Kilorn to follow her onto the jet. The pair of them nod at the Silvers as they pass, giving me the space I need for my own farewells.

I don’t see Cal with his uncle or grandmother, but I don’t expect him to stand in line. He waits farther down the jetway, separated from the rest of them.

Julian extends his arms to me and I embrace him tightly, inhaling the warm scent of old paper that still seems to cling to him through everything.

After a long minute, he pushes me back gently. “Oh, come on, I’ll see you in a month or so.”

Like Cameron, Julian is scheduled to visit Montfort in a few weeks. Officially, he’s an envoy of the Nortan Silvers. But I expect he’ll spend more time combing through whatever archives Davidson puts at his disposal, utilizing the time to investigate the emergence of newbloods.

I grin up at my old teacher, patting him on the shoulder. “I doubt you’ll be able to tear yourself out of the Montfort vaults long enough to say hello.”

At his side, Sara raises her head. “I’ll make sure he does,” she says quietly, taking Julian’s arm.

Anabel is not so understanding. She glares at me one last time before scoffing aloud, disgusted by my presence, and walking off at a brisk pace. I don’t blame her. After all, in her eyes, I’m still the reason her grandson denied a dynasty, cast away a crown for something as stupid as the love of a Red girl.

She hates me for that. Even if it isn’t true.

“Anabel Lerolan may not see reason, but she does see logic. You’ve opened a door that can’t be closed,” Julian says quietly, watching the old queen clamber into a waiting transport. “She couldn’t put Cal back on the throne now, even if he wanted it.”

“What about the Rift? The Lakelands? Piedmont?”

Julian cuts me off with a gentle shake of his head. “I think you’ve earned the right to not worry about such things for a while.” He pats my hand kindly. “There’s rioting; there’s movement, Reds crossing our borders by the thousands. Know the stone is truly rolling, my dear.”

For a second, I feel overcome. Equal parts happy and afraid. This can’t last, I think again, knowing the words to be true. Sighing, I let go of them. This isn’t over, but it is for me. For now.

I have to hug Julian one more time. “Thank you,” I whisper.

Again he pushes me back, his eyes shiny. “Yes, well—enough of that. My ego’s already bigger than it should be,” he stammers out. “You’ve wasted enough time with me,” he adds, giving me another push. In the direction of his nephew. “Go on.”

I don’t need any more prodding than that, in spite of the nerves currently wreaking havoc on me. Gulping a little, I pass the rest of the dignitaries from our reforged alliance, smiling as I go. No one stops me, allowing me to approach the former king unimpeded.

Cal feels me coming. “Let’s walk,” he says, already moving. I follow him under one of the wings of our jet, stepping into shadow. Farther down the runway, an engine roars