King's Cage
Page 131
“Maven likes traps.” I hate saying his name. “It could be a ploy to draw us out in force, catch us in transit.” I remember the scream of our jet torn apart midflight, sheering into jagged edges against the stars. “Or a feint. We go to Corvium. He hits the Lowcountry. Takes our foundation out from under us.”
“Which is why we wait.” Davidson clenches a fist in resolve. “Let them move first so we can make our counter. If they hold, we’ll know it was a trick.”
The Colonel flushes, skin red as his eye. “And if it’s an offensive, plain and simple?”
“We’ll move quickly once intentions are known—”
“And how many of my soldiers die while you move quickly?”
“As many as mine,” Davidson sneers. “Don’t act like your people are the only ones who will bleed for this.”
“My people . . . ?”
“Enough!” Farley shouts them both down, loud enough to wake Clara. The infant is better tempered than anyone I know, and just blinks sleepily at the interruption of her nap. “If we can’t get more intelligence, then waiting is our only option. We’ve made enough mistakes charging in headfirst.”
Too many times to count.
“It’s a sacrifice, I admit.” The premier looks as sober as his generals, all stoic and stone-faced at the news. If there were another way, he would take it. But none of us see one. Not even Cal, who remains silent. “But a sacrifice of inches. Inches for miles.”
The Colonel sputters in anger, slamming a fist on the council table. A glass pitcher full of water wobbles, and Davidson calmly rights it with quick, even reflexes.
“Calore, I’ll need you to coordinate.”
With his grandmother. With Silvers. People who stared at me and my chains and did nothing until it was convenient. People who still think my family should be their slaves. I bite my tongue. People we need to win.
Cal dips his head. “The Kingdom of the Rift has pledged support. We’ll have Samos soldiers, Iral, Laris, and Lerolan.”
“The Kingdom of the Rift,” I say under my breath, almost spitting. Evangeline got her crown after all.
“What about you, Barrow?”
I look up to see Davidson staring, still with that blank expression. He is impossible to read.
“Do we have you as well?”
My family flickers before my eyes, but only for a moment. I should feel ashamed that my own anger, the rage I keep burning in the pit of my stomach and the corners of my brain, outweighs them all. Mom and Dad will kill me for leaving again. But I’m willing to join a war to find some semblance of peace.
“Yes.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Mare
It is not a trap and it is not a trick.
Gisa shakes me awake sometime after midnight, her brown eyes wide and worried. I told my family what was going to happen over dinner. As expected, they weren’t exactly happy about my decision. Mom twisted the knife as much as she could. She wept over Shade, still a fresh wound, and my capture. Told me how selfish I was. Taking myself from them again.
Later, her reproaches turned into apologies and whispers of how brave I am. Too brave and stubborn and precious for her to let me go.
Dad just shut down, his knuckles white on his cane. We’re the same, he and I. We make choices and follow through, even if the choice is wrong.
At least Bree and Tramy understood. They weren’t called for this mission. That’s comfort enough.
“Cal is downstairs,” Gisa whispers, her keen hands on my shoulders. “You have to go.”
As I sit up, already dressed in my uniform, I pull her into one last embrace.
“You do this too much,” she mutters, trying to sound playful around the choking sobs in her throat. “Come back this time.”
I nod, but I don’t promise.
Kilorn meets us in the hall, bleary-eyed in his pajamas. He isn’t coming either. Corvium is far past his limits. Another bitter comfort. As much as I used to complain about dragging him along, worrying about the fish boy good at knots and nothing else, I’ll miss him dearly. Especially because none of that is true. He protected and helped me more than I ever did him.
I open my mouth to say all this, but he shuts me up with a quick kiss on the cheek. “You even try to say good-bye and I’ll throw you down the stairs.”
“Fine,” I force out. My chest tightens, though, and it becomes harder to breathe with every step down to the first floor.
Everyone waits in congregation, looking grim as a firing squad. Mom’s eyes are red and puffy, as are Bree’s. He hugs me first, lifting me clean off the floor. The giant lets loose one sob into the crook of my neck. Tramy is more reserved. Farley is in the hallway too. She holds Clara tightly, rocking her back and forth. Mom is going to take her, of course.
Everything blurs, as much as I want to hold on to every inch of this moment. Time passes far too quickly. My head spins, and before I know what’s happening, I’m out the door, down the steps, and tucked safely into a transport. Did Dad shake Cal’s hand or did I imagine that? Am I still asleep? Am I dreaming? The lights of the base stream through the dark like shooting stars. The headlights cut the shadows, illuminating the road to the airfield. Already I hear the roar of engines and the scream of jets taking to the skies.
Most are dropjets, designed to transport large numbers of troops at speed. They land vertically, without runways, and can be piloted directly into Corvium. I’m seized by a terrible sense of familiarity as we board ours. The last time I did this, I spent six months as a prisoner, and came back a ghost.
“Which is why we wait.” Davidson clenches a fist in resolve. “Let them move first so we can make our counter. If they hold, we’ll know it was a trick.”
The Colonel flushes, skin red as his eye. “And if it’s an offensive, plain and simple?”
“We’ll move quickly once intentions are known—”
“And how many of my soldiers die while you move quickly?”
“As many as mine,” Davidson sneers. “Don’t act like your people are the only ones who will bleed for this.”
“My people . . . ?”
“Enough!” Farley shouts them both down, loud enough to wake Clara. The infant is better tempered than anyone I know, and just blinks sleepily at the interruption of her nap. “If we can’t get more intelligence, then waiting is our only option. We’ve made enough mistakes charging in headfirst.”
Too many times to count.
“It’s a sacrifice, I admit.” The premier looks as sober as his generals, all stoic and stone-faced at the news. If there were another way, he would take it. But none of us see one. Not even Cal, who remains silent. “But a sacrifice of inches. Inches for miles.”
The Colonel sputters in anger, slamming a fist on the council table. A glass pitcher full of water wobbles, and Davidson calmly rights it with quick, even reflexes.
“Calore, I’ll need you to coordinate.”
With his grandmother. With Silvers. People who stared at me and my chains and did nothing until it was convenient. People who still think my family should be their slaves. I bite my tongue. People we need to win.
Cal dips his head. “The Kingdom of the Rift has pledged support. We’ll have Samos soldiers, Iral, Laris, and Lerolan.”
“The Kingdom of the Rift,” I say under my breath, almost spitting. Evangeline got her crown after all.
“What about you, Barrow?”
I look up to see Davidson staring, still with that blank expression. He is impossible to read.
“Do we have you as well?”
My family flickers before my eyes, but only for a moment. I should feel ashamed that my own anger, the rage I keep burning in the pit of my stomach and the corners of my brain, outweighs them all. Mom and Dad will kill me for leaving again. But I’m willing to join a war to find some semblance of peace.
“Yes.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Mare
It is not a trap and it is not a trick.
Gisa shakes me awake sometime after midnight, her brown eyes wide and worried. I told my family what was going to happen over dinner. As expected, they weren’t exactly happy about my decision. Mom twisted the knife as much as she could. She wept over Shade, still a fresh wound, and my capture. Told me how selfish I was. Taking myself from them again.
Later, her reproaches turned into apologies and whispers of how brave I am. Too brave and stubborn and precious for her to let me go.
Dad just shut down, his knuckles white on his cane. We’re the same, he and I. We make choices and follow through, even if the choice is wrong.
At least Bree and Tramy understood. They weren’t called for this mission. That’s comfort enough.
“Cal is downstairs,” Gisa whispers, her keen hands on my shoulders. “You have to go.”
As I sit up, already dressed in my uniform, I pull her into one last embrace.
“You do this too much,” she mutters, trying to sound playful around the choking sobs in her throat. “Come back this time.”
I nod, but I don’t promise.
Kilorn meets us in the hall, bleary-eyed in his pajamas. He isn’t coming either. Corvium is far past his limits. Another bitter comfort. As much as I used to complain about dragging him along, worrying about the fish boy good at knots and nothing else, I’ll miss him dearly. Especially because none of that is true. He protected and helped me more than I ever did him.
I open my mouth to say all this, but he shuts me up with a quick kiss on the cheek. “You even try to say good-bye and I’ll throw you down the stairs.”
“Fine,” I force out. My chest tightens, though, and it becomes harder to breathe with every step down to the first floor.
Everyone waits in congregation, looking grim as a firing squad. Mom’s eyes are red and puffy, as are Bree’s. He hugs me first, lifting me clean off the floor. The giant lets loose one sob into the crook of my neck. Tramy is more reserved. Farley is in the hallway too. She holds Clara tightly, rocking her back and forth. Mom is going to take her, of course.
Everything blurs, as much as I want to hold on to every inch of this moment. Time passes far too quickly. My head spins, and before I know what’s happening, I’m out the door, down the steps, and tucked safely into a transport. Did Dad shake Cal’s hand or did I imagine that? Am I still asleep? Am I dreaming? The lights of the base stream through the dark like shooting stars. The headlights cut the shadows, illuminating the road to the airfield. Already I hear the roar of engines and the scream of jets taking to the skies.
Most are dropjets, designed to transport large numbers of troops at speed. They land vertically, without runways, and can be piloted directly into Corvium. I’m seized by a terrible sense of familiarity as we board ours. The last time I did this, I spent six months as a prisoner, and came back a ghost.
