I race through my memories of the coronation tour, a glorified parade to hide his dealings with the Lakelanders. Maven’s revocation of the Measures, the end of the Lakelander War, his betrothal to Iris. Careful moves to buy goodwill from his kingdom, to get credit for stopping a war without stopping its destruction.
“Silver nobles came back to court before the wedding, and Maven kept me alone for most of the time. Then there was the wedding itself. The Lakelander alliance was sealed. The storm—your storm—followed. Maven and Iris fled to his escape train, but we were separated.”
It was only yesterday. Still, this feels like recalling a dream. Adrenaline fogs the battle, reducing my memories to color and pain and fear. “My guards dragged me back into the palace.”
I pause, hesitating. Even now, I can’t believe what Evangeline did.
“Mare?” Cal prods, his voice and the brush of his hand gentle. He’s just as curious as the rest.
It’s easier to face him than the others. He alone understands how strange my escape was. “Evangeline Samos cut us off. She killed the Arven guards and she . . . she freed me. She set me loose. I still don’t know why.”
A silence descends over the table. My greatest rival, a girl who threatened to kill me, a person with cold steel instead of a heart, is the reason I’m here. Julian doesn’t try to hide his surprise, his thin eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. But Cal doesn’t look surprised at all. Instead, he draws a deep breath, his chest rising with the motion. Could that be—pride?
I don’t have the energy to guess. Or to detail the way Samson Merandus died, playing Cal and me off each other until we both burned him alive.
“You know the rest,” I finish, exhausted. I feel like I’ve been talking for decades.
Premier Davidson stands, stretching. I expect more questions, but instead he opens a cabinet and pours me a glass of water. I don’t touch it. I’m in an unfamiliar place run by unfamiliar people. I have very little trust left in me, and I won’t waste it on someone I just met.
“Our turn?” Cal asks. He leans forward, eager to begin his own interrogation.
Davidson inclines his head, lips tugged into flat, neutral line. “Of course. I assume you’re wondering what we’re doing here in Piedmont, and on a royal fleet base to boot?”
When no one stops him, Davidson launches ahead.
“As you know, the Scarlet Guard began in the Lakelands, and filtered down into Norta this past year. Colonel Farley and General Farley were integral to both endeavors, and I thank them for their hard work.” He nods at them in turn. “At the orders of your Command, other operatives undertook a similar campaign in Piedmont. Infiltrate, control, overthrow. Here, in fact, is where agents of Montfort first encountered agents of the Scarlet Guard, which, up until last year, seemed a fiction to us. But the Scarlet Guard was very real, and we certainly shared a goal. Like your compatriots, we seek to overthrow oppressive Silver rulers and expand our democratic republic.”
“It seems you’ve done so already.” Farley indicates the room.
Cal narrows his eyes. “How?”
“We concentrated our efforts on Piedmont due to its precarious structure. Princes and princesses rule their territories in shaky peace beneath a high prince elected from their ranks. Some control large tracts of land, others a city or simply a few miles of farms. Power is fluid, always changing. Currently, Prince Bracken of the Lowcountry is the high prince, the strongest Silver in Piedmont, with the largest territory and the greatest resources.” With a sweep of his hand, Davidson brushes his fingers against the seal on the wall. He traces the purple star. “This is the grandest of the three military fortresses in his possession. It is now ceded to our personal use.”
Cal sucks in a breath. “You’re working with Bracken?”
“He’s working for us,” Davidson replies proudly.
My mind spins out. A Silver royal, operating on behalf of a country looking to take everything away from him? For a moment, it sounds ludicrous. Then I remember exactly who’s sitting next to me.
“The princes visited Maven on Bracken’s behalf. They questioned me for him.” I narrow my eyes at the premier. “You told them to do that?”
General Torkins shifts in her seat and clears her throat. “Daraeus and Alexandret are sworn allies to Bracken. We had no knowledge of their contact with King Maven until one of them turned up dead in the middle of an assassination attempt.”
“Thanks to you, we know why,” Salida adds.