“I guess you’ll want to talk to him.”
I feel slightly sick. Of course I do. Of course I’m dreading it. “Yes.”
The last time I saw Cal, we stood in the cold shadow of a jet, saying good-bye to each other. We were angry and exhausted and heartbroken, in mourning and in pain. Or at least I was. I needed to leave. I won’t ask you to wait for me, I told him. In the moment, it felt like the right thing to do. The fair thing. But the look on his face was so horrible when I said it. As if I’d killed his brother all over again. He kissed me, and I could feel how deeply the hurt ran in us both.
“Any idea what you’re going to say?” Kilorn glances at me sidelong and I still my face, trying to hide the torment beneath. My mind whirls, a hurricane of every thought I’ve had over the past months. Everything I’ve wanted to say to him.
I missed you. I’m glad I went away. It was a mistake to go. It was the right thing to do. I’m sorry I killed him. I’d do it again if I had to. I need you now. I want more time. I love you. I love you.
“Not sure,” I finally mutter, forcing the words out.
Kilorn makes a clucking sound, a scolding teacher. Annoyed. “Are you clamming up because you really don’t know or you just don’t want to tell me?”
“I can barely talk it through in my own head, let alone out loud,” I reply quickly, before I lose my nerve. “I don’t know what I’m going to say, because I still don’t know . . . what I want.”
“Oh.” He pauses, thoughtful. Always an odd look on Kilorn Warren. “Well, that’s a perfectly fine way to feel.”
Something so simple shouldn’t bring me such relief, but it does. I put my hand on his arm, just for a moment, and squeeze. He nudges me back.
“Thanks, I needed that,” I whisper.
“I know,” he whispers in return.
“The gala isn’t until the end of the week.” I count off the hours in my head. Tonight, all of tomorrow, the day after . . . “Do the Nortans really need that much time to get ready for a party?”
Or do they want more time here? Did someone want to be here early? And will he stay for very long after? Get a grip, Mare Barrow. Just one mention of Cal, a few hours separating me from him, and I’m already going crazy. And for what reason? It’s only been two months since I saw him last. That isn’t very long, at all.
Was it even enough? For us to heal, to forget, to mourn?
Or was it too much? Has he moved on? Did he wait? Have I?
Both possibilities fill me with icy dread.
“If you bothered to read your reports, you might have figured out that the gala is pretty much just cover,” Kilorn says, his voice bringing me back. “An excuse to get all the key players in the alliance in one spot without causing too much concern. There have been delegation meetings before, but we’ve never been able to get everyone together at the same time until now. The States, the Guard, the Republic. The whole gang.”
I narrow my eyes at Kilorn. “The Lakelands aren’t stupid. They’re watching our movements. They probably have spies in our ranks. Iris and Cenra will know we aren’t just drinking and dancing all week.”
“Like you said, I don’t know anything of importance,” he says brightly. I have to roll my eyes as he keeps talking. “Farley mentioned something about deniability. If we convene for war councils and make our intentions clear, the Lakelands and Piedmont have no choice but to move first. It’s escalation.”
The logic isn’t entirely sound, but when has that stopped any of us?
“So the gala buys time,” I mutter.
“And some drinking and dancing never hurt anyone.” Kilorn spins for effect, his boots sliding over the pavement.
In my experience, balls, parties, and gala events aren’t cause for celebration, but it isn’t in me to ruin his fun. I can tell Kilorn is excited, and I suppose my family might be too. Back home, the best we ever got were a few fiddles in the market square or a barn hall. They’ve never seen what the other half is capable of in their delights.
Sneering, I brush some nonexistent dirt from the shoulder of his jacket. It’s too small for him, though it used to fit a few months ago. “I hope you have a suit handy.”
He flicks my fingers away. “I figured Gisa could help.”
In the distance, I can hear Bree still needling our sister, probably begging for the exact same thing. I grin at the thought of her being in such high demand. She’ll certainly enjoy turning the boys away, or forcing them into increasingly more extravagant costumes.
I wonder what she has in store for me. Again, my heart thuds. I haven’t had much cause for beauty in the last few months. I suppose I should make an effort for such an important gathering, and look the part of the hero everyone thinks I am.
And if it makes Cal blush, all the better.
“Gisa will help, right?” Kilorn mutters apprehensively glancing in my sister’s direction.
“You should get in line.”
TWO
Cal
It’s just past sunset in the mountains; the snowy peaks are still painted blood red. A fitting color for this place. I watch through the jet window as we fly in, weaving toward the now-familiar valley outside Ascendant. As one of the representatives going between the Nortan States and the Republic, I feel like I’ve done this a thousand times. There’s always a great deal of movement within the alliance, and Montfort is always at its center. I’ve been back and forth so much by now, enough to know what to expect from approach. The craft rattles, hitting pockets of turbulence over the peaks. It hardly registers. The updrafts of mountain air make the landing bumpy, and I jostle against my buckles when we touch down onto the runway.
Even though we land safely, my heart rate climbs and my hands tremble as I unfasten myself. It takes more willpower than it should not to sprint from the jet.
Nanabel certainly takes her time getting off the craft. She plays up the charade of an old woman, leaning on the seat backs for support as she walks down the aisle. “Can’t imagine how you do this so much, Cal,” she grumbles to me. Her voice is louder than it needs to be, even over the drone of the airjet. “I’m stiff all over.”
I roll my eyes behind her back. It’s all an act—I know firsthand how spry she is. My grandmother is no wilting flower. She just wants to slow me down, keep me from looking overeager. Like a puppy hoping for a treat, she hissed to me when I volunteered to go to the Samos abdication. Not to see Evangeline or Ptolemus, not even really to show my support to royal Silvers making the same choice I did. She knew I thought Mare might be there. And just the chance was enough for me.
But she never showed, to my disappointment.
Don’t be unfair, I tell myself. She had no reason to go to the Rift. She’s had more than her fill of Silvers struggling to give up their crowns.
Uncle Julian is good enough to take Nanabel by the arm, helping her along at a quicker step. She offers a bloodless smile in thanks, clutching at him with strong, lethal hands. He pales under her grasp, knowing exactly how deadly the hands of an oblivion can be.
Thank you, I mouth to him, and he nods in reply.
Julian is excited to be here too, albeit for very different reasons. He enjoys the Republic as only a scholar can, and my uncle is eager to show the country to Sara. She walks in front of him, setting a good pace in quiet determination. Like me, Julian and Sara have ceased wearing house colors. I’m still not used to seeing my uncle in anything but faded gold, or Sara in colors that aren’t red and silver.