War Storm

I don’t know what to do.

TWENTY-SIX

Mare

I refuse to fly in the same dropjet as Maven. So does Cal. Even bewitched as he is, we still can’t look at him. Julian, Davidson, and Anabel fall on that sword for us, escorting Maven in the second jet to give the rest of us some space.

Still, we can’t speak to each other. The flight back to Harbor Bay passes in stunned silence. Even Evangeline and Ptolemus are shocked and quiet. The trade has thrown everyone off balance. I still can’t believe it. Julian and Anabel, back-channeling with the Lakelanders? Under our noses? Without Cal’s blessing or Davidson’s involvement? It doesn’t make sense. Even Farley, with her vast network of spies, never saw this coming. But she’s the only one of us who seems pleased. She smiles in her seat, almost vibrating out of her skin with excitement.

It shouldn’t feel like this. The war is won. No more battle, no more death. Maven lost his crown back on Province. No one even bothered to pick it up, abandoning the circle of cold iron to the island. Iris took his bracelets. He couldn’t fight us if he wanted. It’s all over. The boy king is no more. He can’t hurt me for one second longer.

So why do I feel so terrible? Dread settles in the pit of my stomach, heavy as a stone and just as difficult to ignore. What happens now?

At first I try to blame it on Iris, her mother, and Bracken too. Despite Cal’s pledge to honor the alliance, I doubt they will. They lost too much, and none of them seem like the kind to go home empty-handed. All have personal reasons to seek vengeance, and Norta is still crippled, divided by civil war. Easy pickings for stronger beasts. Whatever peace we find today exists on borrowed time. I can almost hear the tick of the clock against us.

That isn’t why you’re afraid, Mare Barrow.

Last night, Cal and I agreed not to make any choices, or change decisions already made. Certain things could be ignored while the war hung in the balance. But I thought we would have more time. I didn’t think everything would be finished so quickly. I didn’t know our toes were already edging over the precipice.

With Maven cast down, Cal is truly the king of Norta. He’ll crown himself and take his birthright. He’ll marry Evangeline. Nothing before will matter.

And we’ll be enemies again.

Montfort and the Scarlet Guard will not stand for another king ruling Norta.

Neither can I, no matter how much he pledges to bring change. The pattern will simply repeat, in his children, or his grandchildren, down the line of kings and queens. Cal refuses to see what must be done. He doesn’t have the stomach for the sacrifice required to make a better world.

I steal a glance at him, looking up through my lashes. Cal doesn’t notice me staring, his focus elsewhere and inward. Thinking about his brother. The price Maven Calore must pay for the bloodshed he caused, and the wounds he tore across us all.

Before we raided Corros Prison, when Cal thought we might find Maven waiting, he said he would lose control. Go after Maven with everything he had. It frightened him, to have such a tenuous grip on himself. I told him I would kill Maven if he couldn’t. It felt easy to pledge then, but when given the opportunity, when Maven looked up at me from a bathtub, vulnerable as a newborn, I turned away.

I want him dead. For what he did to me. For all the pain, all the heartache. For Shade. For the Reds used as pawns in his twisted game. Still, I don’t know if I could kill him myself, just to remove the torment of him. And I’m not sure Cal can either.

But he will, and he must. It’s the only place this road leads.

The journey back to Harbor Bay seems shorter than before, and we touch down on the edge of the Aquarian Port, the jets crowding what was once a market square at the edge of the water. Soldiers of the coalition ring the pavement, and my stomach flips. So many eyes.

For once it isn’t me being put on parade. Though he did it to me so many times, I take little satisfaction in watching Maven forced down from a dropjet. He stumbles over himself, limbs heavy with Julian’s ability, looking more like a boy than ever before. Someone binds his hands in manacles. He says nothing, still unable to speak.

Farley looms, close at his shoulder, grinning proudly, one hand raised in triumph. She seizes him by the scruff of his collar.

“Rise, red as the dawn!” she shouts. With one foot, she kicks the back of Maven’s leg as Iris did. He falls to his knees, a king brought low. “Victory!”

The stunned quiet of the square quickly dissipates as the crowd realizes what this means. And the jeers rise, howling in a storm, until shrieks of joy and venom echo so loudly I think the entire city must know.

Cal’s warmth radiates at my side as he watches the display, his face empty of expression. He doesn’t enjoy this.

“Get him to the palace,” he murmurs to Anabel when she approaches. “As quickly as we can.”

She eyes him with an annoyed sigh. “The people must see, Cal. Let them enjoy your victory. Let them love you for it.”

He flinches. “This isn’t love,” he replies, gesturing at the crowd with his chin. Reds and newbloods greatly outnumber his own Silvers, but all look on Maven with snarls and raised fists. Fury rules the square. “This is hatred. Get him to the palace, and out of the crowd.”

It’s the right choice. And the easy one. I nod at him, touching his arm with a gentle squeeze. Offering whatever comfort I can, while I still can. Like the alliance, we are on borrowed time.

Anabel sharpens. “We could march him—”

“No,” Cal snaps, voice low and snarling. He glances between his grandmother and me. I tighten under his gaze. “I’m not making his mistakes.”

“Fine,” she spits through gritted teeth. At the edge of the square, transports roll into position, waiting to take us back up to the palace. Cal beelines for the closest one, and I follow, careful to keep a respectful distance.

“We still have to send out reports and broadcasts,” Anabel continues as we walk. “Let the people of Norta know their true king has returned. Assemble the High Houses, collect oaths of allegiance. Punish those who won’t swear to your crown—”

“I know,” he bites out.

Behind us, I hear scuffling and stumbling. Farley pushes Maven along, with Julian flanking them. A few soldiers throw red scarves at her feet, celebrating our triumph. They cheer and shriek in equal measure.

The sound is horrible, even from my own people. It brings me back to Archeon, when I was forced to walk the city in chains. A prisoner, a trophy. Maven made me kneel in front of the world. I wanted to vomit then and I want to vomit now. Shouldn’t we be better than they were?

Even so, I feel the same ugly hunger in me. The desire for revenge and justice. It begs to be fed. I push it away, trying to ignore the monster I carry with me, born of all my wrongs and all the wrongs done to me.

Anabel jabbers until we reach the transports, and Cal dismisses her with a glare. I don’t bother to look back before climbing into our own vehicle, unable to watch another person face one fraction of what I suffered in Archeon. Even Maven.

Cal closes the door behind him, slumping into the semidarkness. The divider is raised, separating us from our driver. Leaving us alone together, with no need to perform. It’s almost silent, the sound of jeering muffled to a low drone.

Cal bends forward, elbows braced on his knees, and buries his face in his hands. The emotions of this moment are simply too much to bear. Fear, regret, shame, and so much relief. All undercut by the churning sense of dread, knowing what is to come. I press back against the seat, putting my palms to my eyes.