“Not a step closer to the true king,” she growls. The woman is smart not to trust him, even now, with nothing left.
Maven sinks to a knee and runs a hand through his hair, mussing the dark, wet curls. He glares at his brother with all the fire he can no longer possess. “Afraid of a boy, Cal? I thought you were the warrior.”
At Cal’s side, Mare tenses, putting a hand to his arm. To stop him or push him on, I don’t know. His throat bobs as he swallows, deciding what to do.
With aching slowness, the last king standing puts a hand on the hilt of his sword. “You’d kill me if our places were exchanged.”
Breath whistles between Maven’s teeth. He hesitates just long enough, leaving space for a lie. Or the hope of a lie. There is no predicting the mind of Maven Calore, or what face he allows anyone to see.
“Yes, I would,” he mutters. He spits blood once more. “Are you proud?”
Cal doesn’t reply.
The ice-blue eyes shift, jumping to the girl at his brother’s side. Mare hardens under his gaze, firm as tempered steel. She has every reason to fear him, but hides it all.
“Are you happy?” Maven asks, almost a whisper. I’m not sure who the question is for.
Neither says a word.
A gurgling sound draws my attention, and I look up from Maven to see the queens circling their prey. They move in a kind of circle. Not a dance, not a ritual. There is no pattern to it. Only cold, collected rage. Even Bracken looks unsettled by them. He takes a few steps back, allowing them room to do what they must. Still on his knees, Salin sways between them, his mouth foaming with seawater.
They take turns pouring water over his face with torturous efficiency. Just enough to keep him breathing. Little by little, drop by drop, his face pales, then purples, then blackens. And he falls, twitching, drowning in half a foot of water, unable to sit up. Unable to save himself. They bend over his body, putting their hands to his shoulders. Making sure they are the last thing he sees as he dies.
I’ve seen torture before, from people who delight in it. It always unsettles. But this brutality is too measured for me to understand. It terrifies me.
Iris catches me watching, and I look away, unable to stand it.
She was certainly right. Maven made a mistake letting her into his kingdom and his palace.
“Are you happy?” Maven asks again, more desperate and ferocious, his teeth like white fangs.
“Be silent, Maven,” Julian sings, forcing the boy to look at him. For the first time in his twisted life, Maven Calore shuts his weasel mouth.
I look over my shoulder, only to find Ptolemus as white-faced as I feel. The world has shifted beneath our feet. Alliances broken and remade, leaving borders to be redrawn, betrothals to be carried out.
And, I realize with a sinking sensation, one more piece of the bargain. There must be.
I lean into my brother, whispering so only he can hear.
“This can’t just be for Salin.”
Iral is a disgraced lord without title or land or any kind of power, in either the Rift or Norta. He isn’t worth anything beyond what he did. And even the Lakelander queens wouldn’t trade Maven to feed their vengeance. They’re strange, not stupid. Anabel said this was the price, but that can’t be true. There must be more. Someone else.
I keep my face blank as the realization churns through me. No one can see behind my mask of stillness.
I wasn’t far off the mark, when I feared we were the trade.
But Maven’s right. A prince and princess for a king? Idiotic. We aren’t worth him.
Our father certainly is.
Volo Samos, king of the Rift. Salin stuck a knife in the Lakelander king to please my father and win his favor. It’s his fault as much as anyone. It was done in his name.
And he is a rival to the Lakelands as much as he is a rival to Cal.
It would be easy for Anabel to bargain him. A logical move to trade my father’s life.
I keep my fingers tightly knit to hide their shaking. I weigh the options as best I can, my expression empty and devoid of any emotion.
If Father dies, the Rift dissolves. It won’t stand without him, not with the way things are. I won’t be a princess anymore. I won’t be his subject, his hand-raised pet, his toy to trade, his sword to use as he pleases.
I won’t have to marry anyone I don’t love, or live my days as a lie.
But even against all things, I love my father. I can’t help it. I can’t bear it.
I don’t know what to do.
TWENTY-SIX
Mare
I refuse to fly in the same dropjet as Maven. So does Cal. Even bewitched as he is, we still can’t look at him. Julian, Davidson, and Anabel fall on that sword for us, escorting Maven in the second jet to give the rest of us some space.
Still, we can’t speak to each other. The flight back to Harbor Bay passes in stunned silence. Even Evangeline and Ptolemus are shocked and quiet. The trade has thrown everyone off balance. I still can’t believe it. Julian and Anabel, back-channeling with the Lakelanders? Under our noses? Without Cal’s blessing or Davidson’s involvement? It doesn’t make sense. Even Farley, with her vast network of spies, never saw this coming. But she’s the only one of us who seems pleased. She smiles in her seat, almost vibrating out of her skin with excitement.
It shouldn’t feel like this. The war is won. No more battle, no more death. Maven lost his crown back on Province. No one even bothered to pick it up, abandoning the circle of cold iron to the island. Iris took his bracelets. He couldn’t fight us if he wanted. It’s all over. The boy king is no more. He can’t hurt me for one second longer.
So why do I feel so terrible? Dread settles in the pit of my stomach, heavy as a stone and just as difficult to ignore. What happens now?
At first I try to blame it on Iris, her mother, and Bracken too. Despite Cal’s pledge to honor the alliance, I doubt they will. They lost too much, and none of them seem like the kind to go home empty-handed. All have personal reasons to seek vengeance, and Norta is still crippled, divided by civil war. Easy pickings for stronger beasts. Whatever peace we find today exists on borrowed time. I can almost hear the tick of the clock against us.
That isn’t why you’re afraid, Mare Barrow.
Last night, Cal and I agreed not to make any choices, or change decisions already made. Certain things could be ignored while the war hung in the balance. But I thought we would have more time. I didn’t think everything would be finished so quickly. I didn’t know our toes were already edging over the precipice.
With Maven cast down, Cal is truly the king of Norta. He’ll crown himself and take his birthright. He’ll marry Evangeline. Nothing before will matter.
And we’ll be enemies again.
Montfort and the Scarlet Guard will not stand for another king ruling Norta.
Neither can I, no matter how much he pledges to bring change. The pattern will simply repeat, in his children, or his grandchildren, down the line of kings and queens. Cal refuses to see what must be done. He doesn’t have the stomach for the sacrifice required to make a better world.
I steal a glance at him, looking up through my lashes. Cal doesn’t notice me staring, his focus elsewhere and inward. Thinking about his brother. The price Maven Calore must pay for the bloodshed he caused, and the wounds he tore across us all.