“I can make you one, if you like,” she says, eyeing my own uniform. The offensively bright red of the Scarlet Guard outfit makes her wrinkle her nose. “Maybe downplay all this,” she mutters, waving her hands a little. “Give you something a little better than medals.”
Kilorn eases himself down next to me, leaning back on his hands with his legs crossed. “Do I get one too?”
“If I feel like it,” Gisa replies with her usual sniff. She eyes him up and down, as if assessing a customer. “Fish instead of flowers, I think.”
I can’t help but chuckle into my hand, grinning at Kilorn’s exaggerated pout.
“So how long will you be here this time?” My father’s voice is still a low grunt, full of accusation. I glance at him, meeting his dark brown eyes. The same eyes as Bree and Tramy, darker than my own.
Mom puts a hand on his shoulder, as if she can push him off the subject. “Daniel, she just got back.”
He doesn’t look at her. “That’s my point.”
“It’s fine,” I murmur, glancing between them. It’s an honest question, and a good one, especially based on recent circumstances. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. It could be days. Could be weeks. Could be months.” My family seems to brighten with each larger measurement of time. It pains me to give them what could be false hope, even though I want it to be true. “We still don’t know how things will proceed.”
Dad purses his lips. “With Norta.”
I shake my head. “With the Lakelands, mostly.” The others look on, silent as I explain. Except for Kilorn. His brow furrows slowly, creasing his forehead with deep, angry lines. “They hold all the power right now. Cal is still consolidating a torn country, and we’re waiting to see how everything shakes out. If the Lakelands strike—”
My oldest brother draws an angry breath before pushing it out in an exasperated sigh. He glares at me because there’s simply no one else to glare at. “You’ll help fight them off?” As with Dad, I hear an accusation in him.
I can only shrug. It isn’t me he’s frustrated with, but the situation I keep finding myself in. Pulled toward danger, torn between Silver kings, a weapon to be wielded, a face to be used. “I don’t know,” I mutter. “We aren’t allied to him anymore.”
At my side, Kilorn shifts, uncomfortable on the tile. Or the subject. “And what about the other one?”
Around the cluster of chairs, my family blanches in varying levels of confusion. Mom crosses her arms over her chest, fixing me with a piercing stare I know all too well. “Who?” she asks, even though she knows. She just wants to make me say it.
Gritting my teeth, I force an answer. “He means Maven.”
My father’s voice turns deadly, like I’ve never heard it before. “He should be dead by now.”
“He’s not, and he’s here,” Kilorn snarls before I can stop him.
A pulse of fury thrums through my family, every face turning red, every lip curling, all eyes sharpening with glints of rage.
“Kilorn, don’t start trouble,” I hiss, squeezing his wrist. But the damage is already done. The silence around our circle runs heavy with scarlet anger, so strong I can almost taste it.
Finally, Gisa speaks, her tone as feral as my father’s. “We should kill him.”
My sister is not a violent girl, better suited to a needle than a knife. But she looks like she could claw Maven’s eyes out if given the opportunity. I would feel guilty for bringing this anger out in her, but I can’t get beyond the sudden swell of love, appreciation, and pride.
My brothers nod slowly, agreeing with her sentiment. They might even be cooking up some harebrained attempt to get into Maven’s cell right now.
“He’s valuable alive,” I say quickly, if only to stop them short.
“I don’t give a shit about his value,” Bree snaps.
I expect our mother to scold him for his language, but she isn’t bothered by the curse. In fact, she looks positively murderous herself, and for an instant I see the violent love of Queen Anabel, Larentia Viper, and even Elara Merandus in her eyes. “That creature took my son from me, and he took you.”
“I’m right here, Mom,” I murmur, swallowing around the sudden, painful memory of Shade.
“You know what I mean,” she says. “I’ll slit his throat myself.”
Most shocking of all is Dad’s silence. He’s a naturally quiet man, but not when it comes to despising Silvers. When I glance at him, I realize why he won’t say anything. Because he can’t. His face is a furious red, boiling with a steady, rising hatred. If he opens his mouth, who knows what might tumble out.
“Can we talk about something else?” I have to ask, looking around at the rest of my family.
“Please do,” Dad barely manages through gritted teeth.
“You all look well,” I say quickly. “Is Montfort—”
Mom seems annoyed, but dips her head in acceptance. She answers for all of them, cutting me off. “It’s a dream, Mare.”
My natural suspicion flares, in spite of all I know about Davidson. But I don’t know his country or his city. I don’t know the politicians he serves or the people they represent.
“Is it too good, though?” I ask. “Do you think we’ll wake up to find ourselves in trouble? To find something gone horribly wrong?”
She heaves a heavy sigh, looking out at the sparkling lights of Ascendant. “I suppose we should always be wary but—”
“I don’t think so,” Dad offers, neatly finishing her thought. His words are few but expressive. “This place is different.”
Gisa nods along with them. “I’ve never seen Reds and Silvers together like this. Back in Norta, when I went to sell with my mistress, Silvers wouldn’t even look at us. Wouldn’t touch us.” Her brown eyes, the same as mine, glaze a little as she remembers her life as it was so long ago, before a Silver officer smashed apart her sewing hand. “Not here.”
In his seat, Tramy settles back, some of his ire melting away. Like a cat smoothing his fur after a scare. “We feel like equals.”
I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of me. They’re family to the lightning girl, a valuable asset to the Montfort premier. Of course they’d be treated well. But I don’t say any of that out loud, if only to maintain some kind of peace on an otherwise tumultuous night. After that, the conversation becomes far more pleasant.
Servants, kindly and smiling, bring up a sizable spread for dinner. The food is simple, but rich and tasty, ranging from fried chicken to sugary, dark purple berries spread over toast. The food is mostly for my benefit and Kilorn’s, but Bree and Tramy help themselves to full portions. Gisa favors a tray of fruits and cheeses, while Dad fixes himself a plate of cold meats and crackers to share with Mom. We eat slowly, talking more than chewing. I mostly listen, letting my siblings regale me with stories of their explorations throughout Ascendant. Bree swims in the lake every morning. Sometimes he wakes up Tramy with it too, dumping a bottle of icy water on his head. Gisa has an almost scientific knowledge of the shops and markets, as well as the grounds of the premier’s compound. She likes to walk the high meadows with Tramy, while Mom prefers the gardens in the city, terraced down the slopes. Dad has been honing his walking abilities, going deeper and deeper into the valley every day, strengthening his new muscles and relearning two legs with every step down and every step back up.