“This is General Torkins.” Davidson gestures between them. “And General Salida.”
Salida. I don’t know her name. But now I’m certain I’ve seen her before.
The sturdily built general notes my confusion. “I did some reconnaissance, Miss Barrow. I presented myself to King Maven when he was interviewing Ardent—I mean newbloods. You may remember.” To demonstrate she sweeps her hand at the table. No, not at. Through. Like it’s made of nothing—or she is.
The memory snaps into focus. She displayed her abilities and was accepted into Maven’s “protection,” along with many other newbloods. One of them, in her fear, exposed Nanny to the entire court.
I stare at her. “You were there the day Nanny—the newblood who could change her face—died.”
Salida looks truly sorry. She dips her head. “If I had known, if I could have done something, truly I would have. But Montfort and the Scarlet Guard did not communicate openly, not then. We didn’t know all your operations, and they did not know ours.”
“No longer.” Davidson remains standing, his fists braced against the table. “The Scarlet Guard has need for secrecy, yes, but I’m afraid it will only do more harm than good from here onward. Too many moving parts not to get in each other’s way.”
Farley shifts in her seat. Either she wants to disagree or the chair is uncomfortable. But she holds her tongue, letting Davidson carry on.
“So, in the interest of transparency, I felt it best for Miss Barrow to detail her captivity, as much as she can, to all parties. And afterward, I will answer any and all questions you may have about myself, my country, and our road ahead.”
In Julian’s histories, there were records of rulers who were elected, rather than born. They earned their crowns with an array of attributes—some strength, some intelligence, some empty promises and intimidation. Davidson rules the so-called Free Republic, and his people chose him to lead. Based on what, I can’t say yet. He has a firm way of speaking, a natural conviction. And he’s obviously very smart. Not to mention he is the kind of man who gets more attractive with the years. I could easily see how people wanted him to rule.
“Miss Barrow, whenever you’re ready.”
To my surprise, the first hand to hold mine is not Cal’s, but Farley’s. She gives me a reassuring squeeze.
I start at the beginning. The only place I can think to start.
My voice breaks when I detail how I was forced to remember Shade. Farley lowers her eyes, her pain just as deep as mine. I soldier through, to Maven’s growing obsession, the boy king who twisted lies into weapons, using my face and his words to turn as many newbloods as possible against the Scarlet Guard. All the while his fraying edges becoming more apparent.
“He says she left holes,” I tell them. “The queen. She toyed in his head, taking pieces away, putting pieces in, jumbling him up. He knows that he is wrong, but he believes himself on a path, and he won’t turn from it.”
A current of heat ripples. At my side, Cal keeps his face still, eyes boring holes in the table. I tread carefully.
His mother took away his love for you, Cal. He loved you. He knows he did. It just isn’t there anymore, and it never will be. But those words are not for Davidson or the Colonel or even Farley to hear.
The Montfort people seem most interested in the Piedmont visit. They perk up at the mention of Daraeus and Alexandret, and I walk them through their visit step by step. Their questioning, their manner, down to what kind of clothes they wore. When I mention Michael and Charlotta, the missing prince and princess, Davidson purses his lips.
As I speak, spilling more and more of my ordeal, a numbness washes over me. I detach from the words. My voice drones. The house rebellion. Jon’s escape. Maven’s near death. The sight of silver blood gushing from his neck. Another interrogation, mine and the Haven woman’s. That was the first time I saw Maven truly rattled, when Elane’s sister pledged her allegiance to a different king. To Cal. It resulted in the exile of many members of court, possible allies.
“I tried to separate him from House Samos. I knew they were his strongest remaining ally, so I played on his weakness for me. If he married Evangeline, I told him, she would kill me.” Pieces move into place as I speak them. I flush at the implication that I am the reason for such a deadly alliance. “I think it may have convinced him to look to the Lakelands for a different bride—”
Julian cuts me off. “Volo Samos was already searching for an excuse to detach from Maven. Ending the betrothal was just the final straw. And I assume the Lakelander negotiations were in play much longer than you think.” He quirks a thin smile. Even if he’s lying, it makes me feel a bit better.