War Storm

We agreed to meet at the interior of the island. A chance for the Lakelander nymphs to show good faith. It is a short but silent walk through the dunes toward a sparse forest of gnarled, stubborn trees. I’m reminded of Tuck, now abandoned to the waves. Shade is buried there, with no one to watch over him.

Cal leads us, with Davidson at one shoulder and Farley at the other. To present a united front of our coalition. Red blood allied with Silver. Evangeline and Ptolemus follow at his heels, surprisingly unbothered by their secondary position.

I’m glad so many walk in front of me, giving me a few extra seconds to gather every ounce of bravery I can find. My best comfort is my lightning, webbing beneath my skin, known only to me. I imagine it behind my eyes, the forked, blinding lines of purple and white. It isn’t going away and no one can take it from me, not even him. I’ll kill him if he tries.

Months ago, I watched Maven make peace with the Lakelanders in a similar fashion. Even though the scenery was vastly different, the endless minefields of the Choke instead of a grassy island between a brightening sky and a calm blue sea, it feels the same. We march toward the unknown, toward people of great and terrible power. At least now I won’t be sitting on Maven’s side of the table. I’m not his pet anymore.

As in the meeting with the Lakelanders, a platform has been constructed in the middle of a field. Wooden planks, smoothly fit together. There’s a circle of chairs on it, half of them occupied. I almost vomit into the grass at my feet.

The person closest to me touches my hand. Julian.

I glance up at him, quietly begging. For what, I don’t know. I can’t turn around. I can’t run away. I can’t do anything my body is screaming at me to do. All he offers is a kind look and a nod of understanding.

Get through it.

Two Sentinels plant themselves in our path, their faces inscrutable behind their masks. The sea breeze plays through their flaming robes.

“We request that you discard your weapons before approaching His Majesty, the king of Norta,” one says, gesturing to Farley and her officers. None of them move. Farley doesn’t even blink.

Queen Anabel tosses her head back with a sneer. She peers around Cal, barely taller than his shoulder. “The king of Norta is standing right here, and he doesn’t fear Red weapons.”

At that, Farley laughs outright, her disdain directed at the Sentinels. “Why do you care about our guns?” she crows. “These people are more dangerous than anything we might have.” With one hand, she gestures around at us, the newbloods and the Silvers. Armed with abilities much more destructive than any guns. “Don’t tell me your little king is afraid of a few Reds with pistols?”

Next to her, the two Scarlet Guard officers shift a little, as if they can somehow distract from the automatic machine guns clasped in their hands.

But Cal doesn’t laugh, or even smile. He senses something amiss and it chills me. “I assume,” he says slowly, deliberately, “that we’re going to enter a Silent Circle. Is that right, Sentinel Blonos?”

My blood seems to freeze and the air goes clean out of me. No.

Julian slowly puts an arm out, giving me something to grab.

The Sentinel flinches, reacting to Cal’s use of his house name. I focus on him, if only to keep myself from spiraling out. It’s no use. My heart rams a thundering beat and air catches in my throat. A Silent Circle. I want to tear my skin off. My fingers twitch on Julian’s arm as I tighten my grip past the point of comfort. The whites of my knuckles stand out sharply.

He covers my hand with his own, trying to stem some of my fear.

In front of us, Cal doesn’t turn around, but he does angle his chin, eyes flashing. As if he wants to look at me. With pity? With frustration? Or with understanding?

“That’s correct,” the Sentinel replies, his voice muffled. “King Maven has provided Silent Stone to ensure the meeting is without any harsher disagreements.”

A muscle twitches in Cal’s cheek as he tightens his jaw. “That isn’t protocol,” he grinds out. The growl in him seems to ripple on the air, like the warning of a beast. Part of me wants him to snap and burn these two, burn the island, burn Maven and Iris and her mother. Remove every obstacle in our way with a destructive, devouring fire.

The Sentinel straightens and fists both hands in his robes. He’s taller than Cal, but nowhere near as imposing. His partner does the same, standing shoulder to shoulder to block our path. “That is the king’s wish. It is not a request. Sir,” he adds, sounding awkward and stilted. They used to protect Cal, as they protected his father and protect Maven now. I suppose confronting their former charge is one of the few things they aren’t trained for.

Cal looks back and forth, searching both Farley and Davidson. My teeth grit together, bone on bone, as I suck in tiny gasps of air through my nose. I can almost feel the Silent Stone again, threatening to drown me. Not if we refuse. If we turn around. Or if Maven bows, allowing us to pass without suffering.

Of course he won’t. Because that’s why he brought the Stone in the first place. Not to protect himself. The rules of war are protection enough, especially with his horribly noble brother leading one side. He did this to hurt us. To hurt me. He knows what kind of prison he trapped me in for six months of my life. How I spent every day wasting, dying so slowly, cut off from half of myself. Trapped behind glass that would never break, no matter how hard I fought.

My stomach sinks when Farley nods begrudgingly. At least she won’t feel it. Silent Stone has no effect on her or any other Reds without abilities.

Davidson is decidedly less keen, his spine straight and shoulders tight when he looks at Cal. But he nods with a jarring motion, agreeing to the terms.

“Very well.” I barely hear Cal say it, as a roaring rises in my ears.

The ground beneath me spins in a dizzying circle. Only my grip on Julian’s arm keeps me steady. At the front of the line, Farley and her officers loudly discard their weapons, making a show of their guns and knives. I flinch as each one drops, useless, disappearing into the dune grass.

“Come on,” Julian whispers so only I can hear, as we move.

He forces me to take a step. My limbs tremble, threatening to give out. And I lean on him as surreptitiously as I can, letting him guide me forward.

Get through it.

I raise my eyes as best I can, trying not to shake or fall or run away.

Iris stands out brightly, her armored gown a glowing, radiant blue like cornflower. It spreads around her, artfully draped over her seat. She is the perfect balance between warrior and queen, even in comparison to Evangeline. Her gray eyes track us as we approach, narrowed to predatory slits. She was never unkind to me, by Silver standards. Still, I feel hatred for her, and for what she’s done. With the Stone looming close, I have to fill myself with rage. It’s the only thing to block out the fear.

I step into the circle of Silent Stone, the unnatural sensation falling over me like a curtain. I bite my lip closed to keep from screaming. My gut turns again when the old, aching weight lands hard on my shoulders. I falter in my step, my eyelids flickering, the only outward show of my intense pain. Inside, my body screams, every nerve alight. Instinct tells me to run, to leave this circle of torture. Sweat trickles down my spine as I force one footstep after another, trying to keep pace with everyone else. If not for the Stone, I would explode in a burst of electric fury to set all my storms to shame. Lightning has no mercy. Neither do I.