his emotions. A silver blush blooms beneath his skin, coloring his cheeks, neck, and even the tops of his ears. The temperature in the room rises a little, rippling with whatever emotion he’s fighting. What a fool, I sneer in my head. You made your choice, Calore. You doomed us both. You can at least pretend to keep it together. If anyone is going to lose their mind to heartbreak, it should be me.
I almost expect him to start mewling like a lost kitten. Instead he blinks furiously, ripping his eyes away from the lightning girl. One fist clenches on the arm of his chair, and the flamemaker bracelet on his wrist glows red with the dying sun. He keeps himself in check. It doesn’t ignite, and neither does he.
Mare is a stone compared to Cal. Rigid, unyielding, unfeeling. Not even a spark. She just keeps staring at me. It’s unnerving, but not a challenge. Her eyes are strangely devoid of her usual anger. They certainly aren’t kind, of course, but they aren’t brimming with disgust either. I guess the lightning girl has little reason to hate me right now. My chest tightens—does she know this wasn’t my choice? She must.
“Good of you to return, Miss Barrow,” I tell her, and I mean it. She’s always a guaranteed distraction for Calore princes.
She doesn’t respond, only folding her arms.
Her companion, the Scarlet Guard general, is not so inclined to silence. Unfortunately. She scowls at my mother, tempting fate. “Our operatives are currently in relay, tracking King Maven’s army as they retreat. We’ve received word that his troops are on a hard march to Detraon, moving with speed. Maven himself, and a few of his generals, boarded ships on Lake Eris. Supposedly bound for Detraon as well. There’s talk of a funeral for the Lakelander king. And they have far more healers than we do. Whoever survived the battle will be back to fighting shape quicker than we will.”
Anabel scowls, cutting a glare at Father. “Yes, House Skonos still remains split between our factions, with the majority remaining loyal to the usurper.” As if that’s our fault. We did what we could, convinced who we could. “Not to mention the Lakelands have skin-healer houses of their own.”
With a sweeping hand and a tight smile, Davidson inclines his head. Wrinkles form at the corner of his eyes, marking his age. I suspect he’s forty or so, but it’s difficult to tell for sure.
He touches his fingers to his brow in some kind of strange salute or promise. “Montfort will provide. I plan to petition for more healers, both Silver and Ardent.”
“Petition?” Father sneers. The other Silvers match his confusion, and I find myself glancing down our line to meet Tolly’s eye. He furrows his brow. He doesn’t know what Davidson means. My stomach flops a bit, and I bite my lip against the sensation. Usually whatever one of us lacks, the other provides. But in this, we’re both at sea. And so is Father. Angry as I am with him, this scares me more than anything else. Father can’t protect us from what he doesn’t understand.
Mare doesn’t understand either, wrinkling her nose in confusion. These people, I curse to myself. I wonder if even the scowling, scarred woman knows what Davidson means.
The premier himself gives a small chuckle. The old man is enjoying this. He lowers his eyes, letting dark lashes brush against his cheeks. If he wanted to, he could be handsome. I suppose it doesn’t serve whatever agenda he has. “I’m not a king, as you all know.” He looks back up and turns his gaze on Father, then Cal, then Anabel. “I serve at the will of my people, and my people have other elected politicians to represent their interests. They must be in agreement. When I return to Montfort to request more troops—”
“Return?” Cal echoes, and Davidson stops short. “When did you plan to tell us this?”
After a moment, Davidson shrugs. “Now.”
Mare’s lips twist. Fighting a scowl or a smirk, I can’t tell. But probably the latter.
I’m not the only one to notice. Cal’s eyes flicker, looking between her and the premier with a growing suspicion. “And what will we do in your absence, Premier?” he demands. “Wait? Or fight with one hand tied behind our backs?”
“Your Majesty, I’m flattered you consider Montfort so vital to your cause,” Davidson says, grinning. “I apologize, but the laws of my country cannot be broken, not even in war. I won’t betray