War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,41

world is?” With a sneer, I size him up, my eyes ripping a path from his boots to his forehead. “Don’t make me laugh, Tiberias Calore. You’re a puppet as much as I am, but at least you had a chance to cut your strings.”

“And you don’t?”

“I would if I could,” I whisper, and I think I mean it. If Elane were here, if there were some way we could stay . . .

“When—when the time comes, when we have to marry . . .” He stumbles over the words. It isn’t like a Calore to stammer. “I’ll try to make things as easy as I can. State visits, meetings. You and Elane can do as you like.”

A chill runs through me. “As long as I hold up my end of the bargain.”

The prospect disgusts us both, and we look away from each other. “I’m not doing anything without your consent,” he mutters.

Even though I’m not surprised, a tiny burst of relief blooms in my heart. “I’d cut something off if you tried.”

Cal offers a weak laugh, little more than an expulsion of air.

“What a mess,” he mumbles, so low he might not expect me to hear.

I suck in a shaky breath. “You can still choose her.”

The words hang in the air, torturing us both.

He doesn’t reply, now glaring at his booted feet. In the garden, Mare keeps her back to him, following close at her sister’s heels. Despite their differing hair colors, I see the resemblance. They move in the same way. Careful, quiet, deliberate, like mice. The sister picks a flower as they go, a pale green bloom with vibrant petals, then tucks it into her hair. As I watch, the tall Red boy, the one Mare insists on dragging everywhere, does the same. The flower looks silly behind his ear, and both Barrow sisters double over. Their laughter echoes over us, a taunt more than anything.

They are Red. They are lesser. And they are happy. How can this be?

“Stop moping, Calore,” I grind out through gritted teeth. The advice is for both of us. “You forged this crown yourself—now wear it. Or don’t.”

SEVEN

Iris

The banks of the Ohius are high. It was a wet spring, with the southern farms of the Lakelands almost flooding many times. Tiora was here in the unstable borderlands just a few weeks ago, to help save the new crops as much as she was to smile and wave. Her small, rare grin won us some favor here, but not enough. Reports to the crown say that Reds are still fleeing, crossing the hills into the Rift to the east. They are fools if they believe the Silver king there will offer them a better life. The smarter ones cross the Ohius into the disputed territories, where no king or queen rules. But they have to risk the chaos of such a journey, facing Red and Silver alike between the Lakelands and northern Piedmont.

The rise above the river offers a commanding view of the valley. A good place to wait. I look south, into the woods gleaming golden beneath the waning light of afternoon. Today was easy, filled with travel across the corn and wheat. And Maven was kind enough to take his own transport, allowing me long hours of peace as we rolled south. The journey was almost a reprieve, even if it meant leaving my mother and sister behind. They’re back in the capital. I can’t say when I’ll see them again. If I ever do.

In spite of the pleasant breeze and the warm air, Maven elects to wait in his vehicle. For now. Certainly he’ll try to make some kind of entrance when the Piedmontese arrive.

“He is late,” the old woman mutters at my side.

In spite of the circumstances, I feel a corner of my mouth lift. “Patience, Jidansa.”

“My, how the current has changed, Your Majesty,” she chuckles, the wrinkles on her brown face deepening as she grins. “I can remember giving you the same counsel more than once. Usually in regard to food.”

I break my vigil, looking away from the horizon to glance at her. “In that, the current remains true.”

Her dusty laugh deepens, echoing out across the river.

Jidansa of the Merin Line has been a friend of the family for as long as I can remember, close as an aunt and doting as a nanny. She used her telky ability to amuse Ti and me as children, juggling our shoes or toys with her mind. Despite her lined face,