“They’ll target the capital,” I say flatly. It isn’t a question.
“Probably,” Davidson says. He taps his lip, thoughtful. “A symbolic victory at the very least. And at best, if the other cities and regions kneel, a quick conquest of the entire country.”
Farley tightens at the suggestion. “If Cal dies in the attack . . .” She trails off, stopping herself. In spite of the warm bath, my body runs cold with the thought. I look away from her silhouette, to the window instead. Puffy white clouds move lazily across a friendly blue sky. Too bright and cheerful for such talk.
Whether he knows it or not, Davidson twists the knife that’s constantly stuck in my gut, picking up Farley’s train of thought. “With no Calore heirs. No king. Chaos will reign across the country.”
He says it like that’s some kind of option. I shift quickly in the water and glare at him. I put one hand on the porcelain rim of the tub, running a threatening spark down one finger. He draws back, just a little. “It will result in more Red bloodshed, Mare,” he explains. It sounds like an apology. “I have no interest in such things. We must win Archeon before they can.”
Nodding, Farley clenches a fist. Resolute. “And force Cal to step down. Make him see there is no other choice.”
I don’t move, still staring at the premier. “What about the Rift?”
His eyes narrow to slits. “Volo Samos will never tolerate a world he cannot rule, but Evangeline . . .” He turns her name over in his mouth. “She might be persuaded. Or, at the very least, bribed.”
“With what?” I scoff. I know Evangeline would do anything to stop her marriage to Cal, but betray her family, throw away her crown? I can’t imagine it. She’d rather suffer. “She’s richer than all of us. And too proud.”
Davidson raises his chin, looking superior. Like he knows something we don’t. “With her own future,” he says. “With freedom.”
I wrinkle my nose, unconvinced. “I’m not sure what you could ask from her. She’s not going to get rid of her own father.”
The premier dips his head in agreement. “No, but she can destroy an alliance. Refuse to marry. Cut the Rift from Norta. Give Cal nowhere else to turn. Help force his hand. He can’t survive without allies.”
He isn’t wrong, but the secondary plan is too precarious. Letting it depend on Evangeline’s shared motive is one thing, but her loyalty to her blood? Her family? It seems impossible. She said herself, she can’t refuse the betrothal, and she can’t go against her father’s wishes when all is done.
Steam rises in the silence, spiraling through the air.
On the other side of the door, an exasperated voice sounds. “What are the odds any of this actually goes to plan?” Kilorn calls from my bedroom.
I have to laugh. “Has it ever?”
He responds with a long, frustrated groan. The door shudders as his head clunks against it.
Kilorn and Davidson are good enough to leave me to dress in peace, but Farley stays put, sprawled across the sea-green covers of my bed. At first I want to chase her out so I can have a bit of time alone, but as the minutes wear on, I’m glad for her presence. If I’m alone, I might lose it entirely and never open the door again. With Farley here, I have no excuse but to get ready as quickly as I can. Hopefully the momentum carries me through the rest of what promises to be an interesting day.
She snickers slightly as I force myself into a formal Scarlet Guard uniform. Freshly cleaned and tailored, just for me. I’ve been oathed to the Guard for almost a year, but it’s never felt official. The uniform is supposed to be symbolic, to properly divide me from Cal and his Silver allies, but I really think Farley just wanted someone else to suffer with her. The bright, bloodred outfit is tight and stiff, buttoned too high up my throat. I fuss with it, trying to loosen the stranglehold a little.
“Not fun, is it?” Farley chuckles. Her own collar is open, folded over for now.
I glance at myself in the mirror, noting the way the special-made garment outlines my form. It’s boxy on top, with straight-legged pants tucked into boots, giving me a rather rectangular silhouette. This is no ball gown, that’s for sure.
While the buttons are polished and gleaming, I have no other decoration on my uniform. No badges, no insignia. I run a hand over my chest, the fabric bare.
“Do I finally get a rank?” I ask, glancing over to Farley. As in the People’s Gallery, she has her three general’s squares on her collar, but most of the false medals and ribbons have been abandoned. No use standing on ceremony in front of Cal, who will know better.
She lies back, looking at the ceiling. One leg crosses over the other, her foot dangling free. “Private has a nice ring to it.”
I put a hand to my heart, pretending to be insulted. “I’ve been with you a year.”
“Maybe I can pull some strings,” she says. “Put in a good word. Get you bumped up to corporal.”
“How generous.”
“You report to Kilorn.”
In spite of the nervous fear tearing up my insides, I laugh out loud. “Whatever you do, don’t tell him that.” I can only imagine the hell he would give me. The teasing, the fake orders. I’d never live it down.
Farley laughs with me, her short blond hair splayed around her face in a halo of gold. She isn’t exactly sparse with her smiles or laughter, but this is different. Not tainted by a smirk or any sharpness. A small burst of real happiness. It’s a rarity these days, in all of us.
Slowly, she catches herself, the echoes of her laughter dying in her throat. I look away quickly, as if I’ve seen something I shouldn’t.
“You stayed with him last night.” Her voice is certain. She knows, as I’m sure everyone does. Cal and I weren’t exactly discreet.
I answer bluntly, without shame. “Yes.”
Her smile fades, and she sits up on the bed. In the mirror’s reflection, I watch her expression shift. The corners of her mouth turn downward and her eyes soften, taking on an air of sadness, if not pity. And perhaps a glint of suspicion as well.
“It doesn’t change things,” I force out, bristling as I turn around. “For either of us.”
Farley is quick to respond, one hand raised. “I know that,” she says, as if calming an animal. Her throat bobs and she licks her lip, choosing her words very carefully. “I miss Shade. I’d do terrible things to bring him back. To get one more day with him. To let Clara meet her father.”
My hands ball at my sides and I look at my feet, feeling my cheeks flush. With shame, because she doesn’t trust me. And with anger, deep sorrow, regret, for my brother lost to all of us. “I won’t—”
She pushes up to her feet and closes the distance between us in firm strides. Her hands grip my shoulders, forcing me to look up into her scarred face. “I’m saying you’re stronger than I am, Mare,” she breathes, eyes shining. It takes a long moment for the words to sink in. “When it comes to him. Not anything else,” she adds quickly, breaking the tension.
“Nothing else,” I say, agreeing with a small, forced chuckle. “Except electrocuting people.”
Farley just shrugs her broad shoulders. “Well, who knows? I haven’t tried that yet.”