King's Cage
Page 100
They’re not wrong. I’ve seen Maven’s deepest wounds and darkest parts. Where to hit him to make him bleed most. But in this moment, with everyone I love so close, I can barely see straight. Right now, if someone chained Maven to the ground in front of me, I wouldn’t stop to kick him in the teeth.
“I don’t care who’s holding your leash, any of you.” I step neatly around them both. “Tell your master to wait.”
The brothers trade glances. They speak in each other’s thoughts, debating. I would walk away if I knew where to go, but I’m hopelessly adrift.
My mind already races ahead, to Mom, Dad, Gisa, Tramy, and Bree. I picture them holed up in another barracks, squeezed into a dormitory room smaller than our stilt house. Mom’s bad cooking stinking up the space. Dad’s chair, Gisa’s scraps. It makes my heart ache.
“I’ll find them myself,” I hiss, intending to leave the twins behind for good.
Instead, Rash and Tahir bow back, waving me on. “Very well—”
“Your debriefing is in the morning, Miss Barrow.”
“Colonel, if you would escort her to—”
“Yes,” the Colonel says sharply, cutting them both off. I’m grateful for his hastiness. “Follow me, Mare.”
The Piedmont base is much larger than Tuck, judging by the size of the landing field. In the dark it’s hard to tell, but it reminds me more of Fort Patriot, the Nortan military headquarters in Harbor Bay. The hangars are larger, the aircraft numbering in the dozens. Instead of walking to wherever we’re going, the Colonel’s men drive us in an open-topped transport. Like some of the jets, its sides are striped yellow and white. Tuck I could understand. An abandoned base, out of sight, out of mind, was probably easy for the Scarlet Guard to take. But this is none of those things.
“Where’s Kilorn?” I mumble under my breath, nudging Cal beside me.
“With your family, I assume. He bounced between them and the newbloods most of the time.”
Because he has no family of his own.
I drop my voice lower, to save the Colonel any offense. “And Farley?”
Cameron leans around Cal, her eyes oddly kind. “She’s in the hospital, but don’t worry. She didn’t go to Archeon; she isn’t injured. You’ll see her soon.” She blinks rapidly, selecting her words with care. “You two will have . . . things to talk about.”
“Good.”
The warm air tugs at me with sticky fingers, tangling my hair. I can barely sit still in my seat, too excited and nervous. When I was taken, Shade had just died—because of me. I wouldn’t blame anyone, including Farley, if they hated me for it. Time doesn’t always heal wounds. Once in a while, it makes them worse.
Cal keeps a hand on my leg, a firm weight as a reminder of his presence. Next to me, his eyes whip back and forth, noting every turn of the transport. I should do the same. The Piedmont base is unfamiliar ground. But I can’t bring myself to do much more than chew my lip and hope. My nerves buzz, but not from electricity. When we make a right, turning in to a network of cheery brick row houses, I feel like I might explode.
“Officers’ quarters,” Cal mutters under his breath. “This is a royal base. Government funded. There’s only a few Piedmont bases of this size.”
His tone tells me he wonders as I do. Then how are we here?
We slow in front of the only house with every window ablaze. Without thought, I vault over the side of the transport, almost tripping over the rags of my dress. My vision narrows to the path in front of me. Gravel walk, flagstone steps. The ripples of movement behind curtained windows. I hear only my heartbeat, and the creak of an opening door.
Mom reaches me first, outstripping both my long-limbed brothers. The collision almost knocks the air from my lungs, and her resulting hug actually does. I don’t mind. She could break every bone in my body and I wouldn’t mind.
Bree and Tramy half carry both of us up the steps and into the row house. They’re shouting something while Mom whispers in my ear. I hear none of it. Happiness and joy overwhelm every sense. I’ve never felt anything like it.
My knees brush against a rug and Mom kneels with me in the middle of the large foyer. She keeps kissing my face, alternating cheeks so quickly I think they might bruise. Gisa worms in with us, her dark red hair ablaze in the corner of my eye. Like the Colonel, she has a dusting of new freckles, brown spots against golden skin. I tuck her close. She used to be smaller.
Tramy grins over us, sporting a dark, well-kept beard. He was always trying to grow one as a teenager. Never got further than patchy stubble. Bree used to tease him. Not now. He braces himself against my back, thick arms wrapping around Mom and me. His cheeks are wet. With a jolt, I realize mine are too.
“Where’s . . . ?” I ask.
Thankfully, I don’t have time to fear the worst. When he appears, I wonder if I’m hallucinating.
He leans heavy on Kilorn’s arm and a cane. The months have been good to him. Regular meals filled him out. He walks slowly from an adjoining room. Walks. His pace is stilted, unnatural, unfamiliar. My father has not had two legs in years. Or more than one working lung. As he approaches, eyes bright, I listen. No rasp. No click of a machine to help him breathe. No squeak of a rusty old wheelchair. I don’t know what to think or say. I forgot how tall he is.
Healers. Probably Sara herself. I thank her a thousand times silently inside my heart. Slowly, I stand, pulling the army jacket tight around me. It has bullet holes. Dad eyes them, still a soldier.
“I don’t care who’s holding your leash, any of you.” I step neatly around them both. “Tell your master to wait.”
The brothers trade glances. They speak in each other’s thoughts, debating. I would walk away if I knew where to go, but I’m hopelessly adrift.
My mind already races ahead, to Mom, Dad, Gisa, Tramy, and Bree. I picture them holed up in another barracks, squeezed into a dormitory room smaller than our stilt house. Mom’s bad cooking stinking up the space. Dad’s chair, Gisa’s scraps. It makes my heart ache.
“I’ll find them myself,” I hiss, intending to leave the twins behind for good.
Instead, Rash and Tahir bow back, waving me on. “Very well—”
“Your debriefing is in the morning, Miss Barrow.”
“Colonel, if you would escort her to—”
“Yes,” the Colonel says sharply, cutting them both off. I’m grateful for his hastiness. “Follow me, Mare.”
The Piedmont base is much larger than Tuck, judging by the size of the landing field. In the dark it’s hard to tell, but it reminds me more of Fort Patriot, the Nortan military headquarters in Harbor Bay. The hangars are larger, the aircraft numbering in the dozens. Instead of walking to wherever we’re going, the Colonel’s men drive us in an open-topped transport. Like some of the jets, its sides are striped yellow and white. Tuck I could understand. An abandoned base, out of sight, out of mind, was probably easy for the Scarlet Guard to take. But this is none of those things.
“Where’s Kilorn?” I mumble under my breath, nudging Cal beside me.
“With your family, I assume. He bounced between them and the newbloods most of the time.”
Because he has no family of his own.
I drop my voice lower, to save the Colonel any offense. “And Farley?”
Cameron leans around Cal, her eyes oddly kind. “She’s in the hospital, but don’t worry. She didn’t go to Archeon; she isn’t injured. You’ll see her soon.” She blinks rapidly, selecting her words with care. “You two will have . . . things to talk about.”
“Good.”
The warm air tugs at me with sticky fingers, tangling my hair. I can barely sit still in my seat, too excited and nervous. When I was taken, Shade had just died—because of me. I wouldn’t blame anyone, including Farley, if they hated me for it. Time doesn’t always heal wounds. Once in a while, it makes them worse.
Cal keeps a hand on my leg, a firm weight as a reminder of his presence. Next to me, his eyes whip back and forth, noting every turn of the transport. I should do the same. The Piedmont base is unfamiliar ground. But I can’t bring myself to do much more than chew my lip and hope. My nerves buzz, but not from electricity. When we make a right, turning in to a network of cheery brick row houses, I feel like I might explode.
“Officers’ quarters,” Cal mutters under his breath. “This is a royal base. Government funded. There’s only a few Piedmont bases of this size.”
His tone tells me he wonders as I do. Then how are we here?
We slow in front of the only house with every window ablaze. Without thought, I vault over the side of the transport, almost tripping over the rags of my dress. My vision narrows to the path in front of me. Gravel walk, flagstone steps. The ripples of movement behind curtained windows. I hear only my heartbeat, and the creak of an opening door.
Mom reaches me first, outstripping both my long-limbed brothers. The collision almost knocks the air from my lungs, and her resulting hug actually does. I don’t mind. She could break every bone in my body and I wouldn’t mind.
Bree and Tramy half carry both of us up the steps and into the row house. They’re shouting something while Mom whispers in my ear. I hear none of it. Happiness and joy overwhelm every sense. I’ve never felt anything like it.
My knees brush against a rug and Mom kneels with me in the middle of the large foyer. She keeps kissing my face, alternating cheeks so quickly I think they might bruise. Gisa worms in with us, her dark red hair ablaze in the corner of my eye. Like the Colonel, she has a dusting of new freckles, brown spots against golden skin. I tuck her close. She used to be smaller.
Tramy grins over us, sporting a dark, well-kept beard. He was always trying to grow one as a teenager. Never got further than patchy stubble. Bree used to tease him. Not now. He braces himself against my back, thick arms wrapping around Mom and me. His cheeks are wet. With a jolt, I realize mine are too.
“Where’s . . . ?” I ask.
Thankfully, I don’t have time to fear the worst. When he appears, I wonder if I’m hallucinating.
He leans heavy on Kilorn’s arm and a cane. The months have been good to him. Regular meals filled him out. He walks slowly from an adjoining room. Walks. His pace is stilted, unnatural, unfamiliar. My father has not had two legs in years. Or more than one working lung. As he approaches, eyes bright, I listen. No rasp. No click of a machine to help him breathe. No squeak of a rusty old wheelchair. I don’t know what to think or say. I forgot how tall he is.
Healers. Probably Sara herself. I thank her a thousand times silently inside my heart. Slowly, I stand, pulling the army jacket tight around me. It has bullet holes. Dad eyes them, still a soldier.
