War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,46

The flower is still tucked behind her ear, pale as dawn. Slowly, I touch the petals, then run a lock of her hair through my fingers. The flower suits her. Will Montfort?

“Like Tramy said,” she replies, “your meetings, your councils, the war you’re fighting, that’s no place for us. And we don’t want it to be.” Gisa stares back at me, eye to eye. We’re the same height for now, but I hope she keeps growing. She doesn’t deserve to see the world the way I do.

“Okay,” I breathe, pulling her close. “Okay.”

“They agree,” she mumbles against me.

Mom. And even Dad.

Something in me releases, letting go of a great weight. But is it an anchor pulling me down, or an anchor keeping me steady? It could be both in equal measure. Without my parents or siblings hanging in the balance, who will I become?

Who I must.

With my head tucked on Gisa’s shoulder, it’s hard not to look at Kilorn standing behind her. His face is dark, a storm cloud as he watches us both. We lock eyes when he feels my gaze, and I see determination in him. He joined the Scarlet Guard long ago, and he won’t take the opportunity to break that pledge. Not even to stay here, in safety, with the only family he knows.

“Now,” Gisa says, pulling back. “Let’s get you ready for this mess of a dinner party.”

Months of life on rebel bases has only sharpened my sister’s keen eye for color, fabric, and fashion. Somehow she scares up a few different outfits from the palace to choose from, all of them relaxed but formal, in a range of styles. None of the gemmed monstrosities the Nortan Silvers wear, of course, but still suitable for a table of kings and leaders. I have to admit, I like dressing up in this way. Running my fingers over cotton or silk. Deciding how to wear my hair. It’s a good distraction. And necessary.

Tiberias will certainly be sitting at the table with me, glowering in his crimson clothes. Pouting because I held to my principles, while he spit on them. Let him see exactly what he turned his back on, and who. I get a sick, but satisfying, pleasure from the thought.

Though Gisa favors the more complex outfits for me, we eventually settle on a dress both of us like. Simple, a deep plum red, long-sleeved with a trailing skirt. No jewelry but my earrings. Pink for Bree, red for Tramy, purple for Shade, green for Kilorn. The final red stone, scarlet as fresh blood, is tucked away in my things. I won’t wear the earring Tiberias gave me, but I can’t throw it away either. It sits, undisturbed but not forgotten.

Gisa quickly sews some gold braid, an intricate piece of already-made embroidery, to the cuff of each sleeve. I don’t know where she swiped a sewing kit from, or if Davidson’s staff knew to leave her one. Her nimble fingers are equally skilled at fixing my hair, twisting my mud-brown locks into something like a crown. It hides my gray ends nicely, even though they’ve spread so much. The strain of the days has certainly taken its toll on me, something I don’t miss in the mirror. I look washed out, sunken, my eyes circled by bruise-like shadows. I have scars of every kind, from Maven’s brand, from wounds not properly healed, from my own lightning. But I am not a ruin. Not yet.

The premier’s palace is vast, but the layout is simple enough, and it takes little time for me to descend to the ground floor, where the public rooms are. Eventually I can just follow the smell of food, letting it lead me through room after room of grand salons and galleries. I pass a dining area the size of a ballroom, dominated by a table big enough for forty, as well as a massive stone fireplace. But the table is bare and no flame crackles in the grate.

“Miss Barrow, isn’t it?”

I turn to the kindly voice, finding an even kinder face. A man beckons from one of the many arched doorways leading out onto another terrace. He is perfectly bald, with midnight skin, almost purple in hue, and his smile flashes like a white crescent above an even whiter silk suit.

“Yes,” I reply evenly.

He grins wider. “Very good. We’ll be eating out here, under the stars. I thought it best to do so, on your first visit.”

The man gestures and I follow, crossing the