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.
I glare, eyes narrowed against the need to weep.
I look at anyone but Maven. Iris’s mother, Queen Cenra, is more subdued, a smaller woman than her daughter, with the same coloring but a plain face. Like Iris’s, her armored dress is deep blue, banded with gold to match the crown on her own brow. They lean together, tucked close, in each other’s confidence as only mother and daughter can be. I want to rip them apart.
The fourth royal isn’t someone I’ve seen before, but I can guess his identity easily enough. Prince Bracken towers in his chair, his skin the polished, flawless blue-black of a precious gemstone. His robes are amethyst-edged purple, artfully draped across a breastplate of solid gold. His dark eyes rest not on Cal or me, but on Davidson. The prince looks as if he might turn the premier inside out, clearly craving revenge for his children.
Along with Iris, he flanks Maven.
I try not to look at him at first, but he is impossible to ignore. Even though the sight of him sends hot knives along my skin, so sharp I expect to start bleeding.
Get through it. Hold on to the anger.
My heart stops when I glance to him and find him already staring, a familiar, cursed smirk twisting on his pale lips.
Maven bobs his head as we take our seats, his eyes sweeping between me and Cal, as if no one else exists. Premier Davidson sits between us, a firm divide. Maven seems to enjoy that immensely, grinning at the buffer between his brother and me. The sea breeze ruffles his hair, still longer than Cal’s and curling softly beneath the weight of his wretched black-iron crown.
I want to kill him.
His uniform is familiar, raven black, hung with the usual ill-gotten medals of state. He smirks at Cal’s jacket, noting the reversed colors with glee. Probably happy to have chased his brother out of their symbols. He regards us with cool and open delight, eager to make this as painful as possible. The mask of the cruel king is firmly set in place.
I must loosen it.
Leaning toward Davidson, I put my elbow on the arm of my chair and jut my collarbone forward. The brand is clear for all to see, burned into my skin. M for Maven. M for monster. His gaze snags on the ruined flesh, faltering for a moment. Those ice eyes go blank and faraway. It’s like pushing him off a path, or sending him down a long, dark, hallway.
He recovers, blinking at the rest of our coalition, but it’s a good start.
Our seating was arranged, so everyone falls in without incident. To my surprise and discomfort, Farley has Cal on one side and none other than Ptolemus on the other. I grimace. If she doesn’t fly across the platform to strangle Maven, she might just kill one of her own allies instead.
Farley’s glare burns as much as any Calore as she stares down the boy king. They’ve met before, long ago in the summer palace, when Maven fooled us all with an easy lie, the one we all wanted to believe. He tricked her as much as he tricked me.
“It’s truly fascinating to see how high you can rise, General Farley,” Maven says, addressing her first. I know what he’s trying to do. Put cracks in us before we’ve barely even sat down. “I wonder where you thought you would be now, if I were to ask you a year ago. What a journey.” His eyes tick between Farley and Ptolemus, the implication clear.
When I was his prisoner, he cracked my head open, looking through my memories with the help of a Merandus cousin. He saw Shade die at Ptolemus’s hands, and he knows what he meant to Farley. How much my brother left behind. It isn’t difficult for him to poke and prod at that open wound.