“I have better aim and better range,” I snarl.
Her grip tightens on her long gun. “If you think I’m giving you anything—”
“If you think I’m asking,” I snap back, flicking my fingers. Her weapon jumps out of her hands, soaring up to mine.
“Really, ladies, there’s no need for that,” Anabel says, still oddly unaffected. “See now, it’s over.” She steps between us and points with a wrinkled finger, indicating the tree line.
The water rushes across the field again, moving with the figures that are approaching in the distance, barely shadows in the mist.
The corpses come first, floating along in the ankle-deep water, their Sentinel robes splayed wide and wet. Their masks are gone or broken, showing the faces beneath. Some I know; some I don’t.
The shadowy figures solidify and one raises a hand, waving the mist away. It condenses and drops, passing over us like a sudden rainstorm, revealing Cenra and Iris, their own guards fanned out behind them. Bracken follows, his chest flashing gold while his purple cape drags in the water. They position themselves strangely, obstructing the blue-uniformed guards from view for as long as possible. Then they halt, ten yards away, the risen waters gathered around their feet.
We stare, perplexed, puzzled at the sight before us. Even the premier, his brow furrowed.
Only Anabel and Julian remain unaffected.
“Be a dear and prepare the trade,” Anabel murmurs, turning over her shoulder to address the Jacos uncle. He looks oddly pale, as if sick, but nods to her request and turns away, taking two Lerolan guards with him.
Trade, she said.
I glance at Mare. She feels my gaze and turns, eyes wide in fear as well as confusion.
Trade for what? I want to ask.
Or who?
Something struggles in the circle of Lakelander guards, restrained. I see him through the gap between Cenra and Iris, fighting a losing battle against men much stronger than he is.
Maven bleeds from the lip, his crown askew on his mop of mussed black hair. He kicks fruitlessly, forcing the Lakelander guards to drag him by the arms. Water coils the length of his body, ready to strike. Next to him, Iris whistles, spinning his bracelets between her hands. The flamemakers, key to his ability, I realize with a swoop of shock. He’s defenseless, at the mercy of those he would never show mercy to.
The Lakelander princess grins sharply, a chilling sight in an otherwise measured persona. He spits at her, missing wide.
“Nymph bitch,” he snarls, kicking again. “You’ve made a mistake today.”
Cenra’s lip curls in a scowl, but she lets her daughter handle herself.
“Have I?” Iris replies, unperturbed. Slowly, she pulls the crown from his head and casts it into the water. “Or have you? Many, many mistakes, not the least of which was letting me into your kingdom.”
I can’t believe my eyes. Maven, the betrayer betrayed. The trickster tricked.
The war.
Over.
I might be sick.
My breathing turns shallow and I wrench my eyes away from Maven to watch his brother. Cal has gone deathly pale. It’s clear he didn’t know anything about this, whatever Anabel and Julian did. Whatever trade they’re about to make in his name.
Who will they give over in return?
I need to run. Grab Tolly. Charge right into the sea.
Quickly, I clamber back down the hill to stand by my brother. The false king should be distraction enough. Don’t make it easy for the nymphs. Get to the jet. Get home.
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Evangeline!” Maven crows, contorting himself so he can smooth back his hair. It keeps falling back into his eyes. “You’re not worth me, no matter how highly you think of yourself.”
At his call, the others turn to look at me as I edge away, Ptolemus tight in my grip. I search for a single friendly face, and find that Mare Barrow comes closest. Her eyes dart between me and my hand on Tolly’s arm. Something like pity wells up in her, and I want to cut it out with a knife.
“Then who?” I lift my chin, relying on pride as armor. “You trading yourself again, Barrow?”
She blinks, her pity melting into fury. I prefer it.
“No,” Julian says, returning with the guards. Like the Lakelanders, they’re dragging a prisoner from their jet.
The last time I saw Salin Iral, he was stripped of his titles, nearly choked to death at my father’s hand for his foolishness and pride. He killed the Lakelander king outside the walls of Corvium, against orders, for nothing more than a pat on the head. He was too shortsighted to see that that would only strengthen the Lakelander alliance with Maven, and the resolve of both their queens. Now he’ll pay for that mistake with his life.
Salin hangs loose, his eyes oddly empty. He stares at his feet, and despite the weak grip from either guard, he doesn’t try to run. With Julian Jacos standing close, I can see why. I doubt he’s been given permission to run.
“What is this—I didn’t authorize any—” Cal sputters, looming over his grandmother. Gently, she puts a hand to his chest, pushing her king backward.
“But you’ll do it. Won’t you, Cal?” she says sweetly. With only the tenderness a mother can give, she reaches up to cup his face. “We can end this war today, right now. This is the cost. One life, instead of thousands.”
It isn’t a difficult choice to make.
“That’s right, Cal. You’re doing this to save lives, aren’t you?” Maven says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Words are the only weapon he has left. “Noble to the last.”
Slowly, Cal raises his eyes to stare at his brother. Even Maven falls silent, letting the moment stretch and burn. Neither blinks. Neither falters. The younger Calore continues to sneer, daring his brother to react. Cal’s face never changes and he doesn’t say a word. But he speaks volumes as he tips his shoulder, stepping out of his grandmother’s path.
Julian puts a finger to Salin’s face, lifting his head so their eyes meet. “Walk to the queens,” he says, and I hear the melodious ability of a talented singer. The kind who could bewitch us all if he wanted, and sing his way to a throne. Luckily for all of us, Julian Jacos has no interest in power.
Despite his haze, Salin Iral is a silk, and his footsteps are graceful. He crosses the meager distance between our party and Maven. The Lakelander queens look like women starved, watching a meal approach. Iris grabs Salin by the neck, kicks the backs of his legs, and forces him to kneel in the water, hands submerged.
“Send him across,” Cenra says quietly, waving a hand toward Maven.
All of this seems wrong, as if filtered through smoked glass, too slow to be real. But it is. The Lakelander guards shove Maven ahead, making him stumble toward his brother. He still grins, spitting blood, but tears gleam in his eyes. He’s losing control, and the tight grip he keeps on himself is coming undone.
He knows this is the end. Maven Calore has lost.
The guards keep shoving, never letting him catch his balance. It’s a pitiful sight. He starts whispering to himself, harried words between peals of sharp laughter.
“I did as you said,” he mutters to no one. “I did as you said.”
Before he can fall at his brother’s feet, Anabel steps forward, planting herself firmly between the pair of them. Protective as a tiger.