A strangled sort of yelp erupts from Cal, not the kind anyone would expect from a prince and soldier. His face pales, eyes wide with what can only be fear. “Corvium is a fortress. A city built with the sole purpose of surviving a war. There are a thousand Silver officers in there, soldiers trained to—”
“To organize. To fight Lakelanders. To stand behind a trench and mark places on a map,” Farley fires back. “Tell me I’m wrong, Cal. Tell me your kind is prepared to fight inside its own walls.”
The glare he levels at her would cut through anyone else, but Farley stands firm. If anything, she strengthens in her opposition.
“It’s suicide, for you and for anyone in your way,” he tells her. She laughs at the blatant dodge, inciting him further. He controls himself well, a fire prince reluctant to burn. “I’m not part of this,” he snarls. “Good luck assaulting Corvium without whatever intelligence you counted on from me.”
Farley’s emotions are not so hindered by a Silver ability. The room will not burn with her, no matter how red her face flushes. “Thanks to Shade Barrow, I already have everything I need!”
The name usually has a sobering effect. To remember Shade is to remember how he died, and what it did to the people he loved. For Mare, it turned her cold, empty, into the person willing to trade herself to keep her friends and family from the same fate. For Farley, it left her alone, singular in her pursuits, focused only on the Scarlet Guard and nothing else. I didn’t know either of them for very long before Shade died, but even I lament who they were. The loss changed them both, and not for the better.
She forces herself through the pain Shade’s memory brings, if only to shove Cal’s nose in it. “Before we faked his execution, Shade was our key operative in Corvium. He used his ability to feed us as much information as he could give. Don’t think for one second you are our only card to play in this,” Farley says evenly. Then she turns back to the Colonel. “I advise a full assault, utilizing newbloods in conjunction with Red soldiers and our infiltrators already inside the city.”
Utilizing newbloods. The words sting, stab, and burn, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
I guess it’s my turn to storm from the room.
Cal watches me go, mouth pressed into a grim, firm line.
You’re not the only one who can be dramatic, I think as I leave him behind.
EIGHT
Mare
I make it easy for the Arvens to remove me from the dais. Egg and Trio take my arms, leaving Kitten and Clover behind. My body goes numb as they escort me out of sight. What have I done? I wonder. What will this do?
Somewhere the others watched. Cal, Kilorn, Farley, my family. They saw that. The shame almost makes me vomit all over my wretched, magnificent gown. I feel worse than when I read the Measures of Maven’s father, dooming so many to conscription in payment for the Scarlet Guard’s action. But then, everyone knew the Measures were not my doing. I was only the messenger.
The Arvens push me forward. Not back the way I came, but behind the throne, through a doorway, to rooms I’ve never seen.
The first is clearly another council chamber, with a long table topped in marble, surrounded by more than a dozen plush chairs. One seat is stonework, a cold construction of gray. For Maven. The room is brightly lit, flooded by the setting sun on one side. The windows face west, away from the river, looking over the palace walls and the gently sloping hills covered in snowy forest.
Last year Kilorn and I cut river ice for spare coins, risking frostbite in favor of honest work. That lasted about a week, until I realized coppers for breaking up ice that would only refreeze was a poor use of our time. How strange, to know that was only a year ago, and a lifetime away.
“Your pardon,” a soft voice says, sounding from the only seat in shadow. I turn to it and watch Jon unfold himself from his chair, a book in one hand.
The seer. His red eyes glow with some inner light I can’t name. I thought he was an ally, a newblood with an ability as strange as mine. He is more powerful than an eye, able to see farther into the future than any Silver can. Now he stands before me as an enemy, having betrayed us to Maven. His stare feels like hot needles pricking skin.
He is the reason I led my friends to Corros Prison, and the reason my brother is dead. The sight of him chases the icy numbness away, replacing all that emptiness with livid, electric heat. I want nothing more than to beat him across the face with whatever I can. I settle for snarling at him.
“Good to see Maven doesn’t keep all his pets on a leash.”