Home > Books > King's Cage (Red Queen #3)(161)

King's Cage (Red Queen #3)(161)

Author:Victoria Aveyard

Inches for miles, Davidson said.

I hope he’s right.

Cameron tosses her cards into my lap. Four queens smolder up at me, all of them teasing. “Four ladies, Barrow,” she snickers. “What next? Going to bet your bleeding boots?”

I grin and swipe the cards into my pile, discarding my useless hand of red numbers and a single black prince. “They wouldn’t fit you,” I answer. “My feet aren’t canoes.”

She cackles loudly, tossing her head back as she kicks her toes out. Indeed, her feet are very long and thin. I hope, for the sake of resources, Cameron is all done growing. “Another round,” she goads, and holds out a hand for the cards. “I bet a week of laundry.”

Across from us, Cal stops his preparatory stretching to snort. “You think Mare does laundry?”

“Do you, Your Highness?” I snap back, grinning. He just pretends not to hear me.

The easy banter is both a balm and a distraction. I don’t have to dwell on the battle facing us if I’m being robbed blind by Cameron’s card skills. She learned in the factories, of course. I barely even understand how to play this game, but it helps me stay focused in the moment.

Beneath us, the dropjet sways, bouncing on a bubble of air turbulence. After many hours in flight, it doesn’t faze me, and I continue shuffling cards. The second bump is deeper, but no cause for alarm. The third sends the cards flying out of my hands, fanning out in midair. I slam back against my seat and fumble for my harness. Cameron does the same while Cal snaps himself back, his eyes flashing to the cockpit. I follow his gaze to see both pilots working furiously to keep the jet level.

More concerning is the view. It should be sunrise by now, but the sky ahead of us is black.

“Storms,” Cal breathes, meaning both the weather and the Silvers. “We have to climb.”

The words barely leave his lips before I feel the jet tip beneath me, angling upward to higher altitudes. Lightning flashes deep within the clouds. Real lightning, born of the thunderheads and not a newblood’s ability. I feel it thumping like a faraway heart.

I tighten my grip on the straps crossing over my chest. “We can’t land in that.”

“We can’t land at all,” Cal snarls.

“Maybe I can do something, stop the lightning—”

“It won’t just be lightning down there!” Even over the roar of the climbing plane, his voice rumbles. More than a few heads turn in his direction. Davidson’s is one of them. “Windweavers and storms are going to blow us off course the second we drop through the clouds. They’ll make us crash.”

Cal’s eyes flutter up and down jet, taking stock of us. The wheels turn in his head, working on overdrive. My fear gives way to faith. “What’s your plan?”

The jet bucks again, bouncing us all in our seats. It doesn’t faze Cal.

“I need gravitrons, and I need you,” he adds, pointing at Cameron.

Her gaze turns steely. She nods. “I think I know where you’re going with this.”

“Radio the other jets. We’re going to need a teleporter in here, and I need to know where the rest of the gravitrons are. They have to distribute.”

Davidson ducks his chin in a sharp nod. “You heard him.”

My stomach swoops at the implication as the jet bursts into activity. Soldiers double-check their weapons and zip into tactical gear, their faces full of determination. Cal most of all.

He forces himself out of his seat, clutching the supports to keep steady. “Get us directly over Corvium. Where’s that teleporter?”

Arezzo blinks into existence, dropping to a knee to stop her momentum. “I do not enjoy that,” she spits.

“Unfortunately you and the other ’porters are going to be doing it a lot,” Cal replies. “Can you handle jumping between the jets?”

“Of course,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Good. Once we’re down, take Cameron to the next jet in line.”

Down.

“Cal,” I almost whimper. I can do a lot of things, but this?

Arezzo cracks her knuckles, speaking over me. “Affirmative.”

“Gravitrons, use your cables. Six to a body. Keep it tight.”

The newbloods in question spring to their feet, pulling wound cords from special slots on their tactical vests. Each one has a mess of clips, allowing them to transport multiple people with their ability to manipulate gravity. Back at the Notch, I recruited a man named Gareth. He used his ability to fly or jump great distances.