Tramy bobs his head in agreement. His dark brown beard continues to fill in. “Won’t miss it,” he agrees. Both of them were conscripted like Dad. Both of them know the fortress well enough to hate its memory. They trade smiles, as if they’ve won some kind of game.
Dad is less celebratory. He eases himself down into another chair, stretching out his regrown leg. “Silvers will just build another. It’s their way. They don’t change.” His eyes flash, finding mine. My stomach drops when I realize what he’s trying to say. My cheeks burn at the implication. “Do they?”
Shamed, I look back at Gisa, searching her quickly. Her shoulders droop and she sighs, barely nodding. She picks at the sleeve of her shirt, avoiding my eyes.
“So you’ve heard,” I say, my voice flat and empty.
“Not everything,” she replies. Her eyes dart to Kilorn, and I’m willing to bet he tipped everyone off, relaying the less painful parts of my message last night. Nervous, Gisa twists a lock of hair around her finger. The dark red strands gleam. “But enough to figure it out. Something about another queen, a new king, and Montfort, of course. Always Montfort.”
Kilorn’s lips twist, pursing together. He runs a hand through his choppy blond hair, mirroring Gisa’s discomfort. There’s anger too. It simmers in him, lighting up his green eyes. “I can’t believe he said yes.”
I can only nod.
“Coward,” Kilorn snaps. He clenches a fist. “Idiot coward. Wasteful, spoiled-brat bastard. I should break his jaw.”
“I’ll help,” Gisa mutters.
No one scolds them. Not even me, though Kilorn certainly expects it. He glances my way, surprised by my silence. I hold his gaze, trying to speak without saying the name. Shade gave his life for our cause, and Tiberias can’t even give up the crown.
I wonder if Kilorn knows my heart is broken in two. He must.
Is this what it felt like, when I pushed Kilorn away? When I told him I didn’t feel the same? That I couldn’t give him what he wanted?
His gaze softens with pity. I hope he doesn’t know what this feels like. I hope I didn’t put him in this much pain. It’s just not in you to love me, he said once. Now I wish that weren’t true. I wish I could save us both from this agony.
Thankfully, Mom puts a hand on my arm. A light touch, but enough to guide me to the long sofa. She doesn’t say anything about the Calore prince, and the glare she shoots around the room communicates her point. Enough.
“We got your message,” she says, her voice a little too loud and bright as she forces the change in subject. “From that other newblood, with the beard—”
“Tahir,” Gisa offers as she sits down next to me. Kilorn hovers behind us both. “You’ve decided on resettlement for us.” Even though it’s what she wanted, I don’t miss the sharp edges to her tone. My sister blinks at me, one eyebrow raised.
I sigh aloud. “Well, I’m not making decisions for you. But if you want to go, there’s a place for you all. The premier said you’ll be welcomed with open arms.”
“What about everyone else?” Tramy asks. He narrows his eyes as he perches on the arm of Bree’s chair. “We’re not the only ones evacuated here.”
He catches an elbow in the side and doubles over as Bree snickers. “Thinking about that clerk? What’s-her-name, with the curly hair.”
“No,” Tramy grumbles back, his golden cheeks flaming beneath his beard. Bree tries to poke at his flushed face but gets swatted away. My brothers have a terrific talent for acting like children. It used to annoy me, but not anymore. The normalcy of them is soothing.
“It will take time.” I can only shrug. “But for us . . .”
Gisa scoffs aloud. She tosses back her head, exasperated. “For you, Mare. We’re not silly enough to think the leader of the Republic wants to do us a favor. What does he get in return?” With nimble fingers, she grabs my hand, tightening her grip. “What does he get from you?”
“Davidson isn’t Silver,” I say. “What he wants, I’m willing to give.”
“And when do you get to stop giving things?” she snaps back. “When you die? When you end up like Shade?”
The name drops a hush over the room. At the door, Farley turns her face, hiding in shadow.
I stare at Gisa, searching my sister’s pretty face. She’s fifteen now, settling into herself. Her face used to be rounder, her freckles less numerous. And she didn’t have the cares she has now. Just the usual worries. It used to be little Gisa we relied on. Her skill, her talent. Her ability to save our family. Not anymore. She doesn’t begrudge the loss of that weight. But her concern is clear. She doesn’t want it on my shoulders either.
Too late.
“Gisa,” Mom says, her voice a low warning.
I recover as best I can, pulling my hand away. My spine turns to steel. “We need to request more troops, and Premier Davidson’s government has to approve before they can be sent. I’ll help present our coalition, show them who we all are. Make a convincing argument for the war against Norta and the Lakelands.”
My sister is unconvinced. “I know you’re good at arguing, but you aren’t that good.”
“No, but I’m the crossroads,” I say, dancing around the truth of it. “Between the Scarlet Guard, the Silver courts, the newbloods, and Reds too.” I’m not lying, at least. “And I’ve had enough practice putting on a good show.”
Farley balances her baby in one arm, putting her other hand on her hip. She drums a finger against the holster of the pistol glued to her side. “Mare’s trying to say she’s a good distraction. Where she goes, Cal follows. Even now, when he’s trying to win back his throne. He’s coming with us to Montfort, and so is his new betrothed.”
Behind me, I hear Kilorn suck in a hissing breath.
Gisa is just as disgusted. “Only they would stop to arrange marriages in the middle of a war.”
“For another alliance, right?” Kilorn sneers. “Maven did it already. Locked up the Lakelands. Cal needs to do the same. So who is it? Some girl from Piedmont? Really cement what we’re doing down here?”
“It doesn’t matter who she is.” My fist clenches in my lap as I realize that I’m lucky it’s Evangeline. A girl who wants nothing to do with him. Another chink in his flaming armor.
“And you’re just going to let this happen?” Kilorn paces out from behind the sofa, his long limbs making even strides. He glares between Farley and me. “No, excuse me, you’re going to help? Help Cal fight for a crown no one should have? After everything we’ve done?” He’s so upset, I almost expect him to spit on the floor. I keep my face still, impassive, letting him fume. I can’t remember him ever being so disappointed in me. Angry, yes, but not like this. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he waits for my explanation.
Farley does it for me. “Montfort and the Scarlet Guard won’t fight two wars,” she says evenly, emphasizing the words. Conveying a message. “We have to take on our enemies one at a time. Do you understand?”
My family seems to tighten in unison, their eyes going dark. Dad especially. He runs a thumb along his jaw, thoughtful, as his lips press into a thin line. Kilorn is less subdued. Green fire sparks behind his eyes. “Oh,” he murmurs, almost smiling. “I see.”
Bree blinks. “Uh, I don’t?”
“No one is surprised,” Tramy mutters under his breath.
I lean forward, eager to make them all understand. “We aren’t going to give the throne to another Silver king. At least not for long. The Calore brothers are at war, spending their forces fighting each other. When the dust settles . . .”
Dad drops his hand on his knee. I don’t miss the tremble in his fingers. I feel it in mine too. “It will be easier to deal with the victor.”
“No more kings,” Farley breathes. “No more kingdoms.”
I have no idea what that world could look like. But I might soon, if Montfort is everything I’ve been promised.
If only I still believed in promises.