“Let’s get this nonsense over with,” she snarls under her breath.
Dawn streaks along the waves, bleeding from the horizon in shimmers of pink and paling blue. I keep my forehead braced against the cool glass of the dropjet window to watch our descent. As each second passes, my body tightens, my pulse a rising thrum, until I fear I might explode. It takes all my energy to keep my lightning at bay and the jet safe from my electric fits. Across from me, Farley stares at me, her hands ready at the buckles of her safety belts. To unfasten them and jump out the door if I happen to lose control.
Cal has more faith. He puts on a show of casual disregard, one leg stretched out in front of him, with the left side of his body braced against my side. He radiates soothing warmth, and his fingers brush mine every few seconds, a firm reminder of his presence.
If his grandmother is disgruntled or surprised by our closeness, she doesn’t show it. She sits quietly with Julian, his face shadowed like never before.
Davidson rounds out the rest of our jet, and thankfully, Evangeline and her brother are in the other craft, following along. I can see the reflection in the water, their small, whirring jet a blurring shadow among the waves. Dropjets are loud, horrendously so, and for once I’m glad for it. No one can talk right now, or scheme, or snipe. I try to lose myself in the constant hum.
Province Island comes too soon, a circle of green edged in a pale ribbon of sand. From above, it seems like one of Julian’s maps. Simply drawn, the village at the edge of the water a small grid of a few streets. The harbor is empty, but almost a dozen warships anchor about a half mile from shore. Maven could shoot us out of the air if he wanted, I think, imagining the distant rumble of artillery fire.
But we land without incident. The turning, tightening sensation in my chest grows, moving far beyond my tolerance. I grate my teeth together, feeling as if my jaw might shatter from the force of it, and hop out of the jet as quickly as I can, if only to suck down the fresh air.
And perhaps run right into the sea.
Instead I move away from the circling engines of the dropjet, one hand raised to keep my hair from the worst of the roaring wind. Farley follows, shoulders hunched.
“You okay?” she says over the noise, so only I can hear.
Mouth tight, I shake my head slightly. No.
I search the tall grass covering the dunes of the beach, half expecting a contingent of Sentinels to spring out and surround us. Force our surrender, force me back into manacles. Bile rises in my throat, the taste almost making me retch. The sensation of Silent Stone against my skin returns with smirking vengeance. I can’t go back there. I turn my face away, hiding in my whipping hair. Trying to breathe and take the precious seconds I need to stabilize.
Farley’s hand clasps my shoulder, her grip firm but soft. “I’m not going to tell you to get over it,” she whispers in my ear. “But you have to get through it. Just for now.”
Get through it.
I grit my teeth and turn back to her, my eyes mercifully clear. “Just for now,” I echo. I’ll fall apart later. After all this is done.
Behind her, Cal hangs back, watchful but hesitant to interrupt. I hold his gaze over her shoulder and give him the slightest nod. I can do this. I have to do this.
We look strange, a contingent of Silver royals, a Red general, and two newbloods, all flanked by guards in our varying colors. While no one is willing to trust Maven to obey the rules of war, we know that the Lakelander queen probably will. Still, I keep close to Farley and her two Scarlet Guard officers. I trust their guns and their loyalty.
Evangeline and Ptolemus step down from their own jet, looking merely inconvenienced by the meeting. As if they have something more important to do. It’s an act, of course. Evangeline wants to see Maven as much as I don’t. She would never pass up the chance to sneer in his face. The dropjet engines rustle her hair as she stands, eyes sharp and keen on the grass around us.
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.