Red Queen

Page 51

No one comes to stop us when we leave the residence floors; I guess being the crown prince has its advantages.
Cal turns a corner, directing us into a wide concrete room. “Just in here.”
It looks like some kind of storage facility, filled with rows of strange shapes covered in canvas sheets. Some are big, some are small, but all are hidden.
“It’s a dead end,” I protest. There’s no way out but the way we came in.
“Yes, Mare, I brought you to a dead end,” he sighs, walking down a particular row. The sheets ripple as he passes and I glimpse shining metal underneath.
“More armor?” I poke at one of the shapes. “I was going to say, you should probably get some more. Didn’t seem like you had enough upstairs. Actually, you might want to put some on. My brothers are pretty huge and like to beat on people.” Though, judging by Cal’s book collection and muscles, he can hold his own. Not to mention the whole controlling-fire thing.
He just shakes his head. “I think I’ll be fine without it. Besides, I look like a Security officer in that stuff. We don’t want your family getting the wrong idea, do we?”
“What idea do we want them to get? I don’t think I’m exactly allowed to introduce you properly.”
“I work with you, we got a leave pass for the night. Simple,” he says, shrugging. Lying comes so easily to these people.
“So why would you come with me? What’s the story there?”
With a sly grin, Cal gestures to the canvas shape next to him. “I’m your ride.”
He throws back the sheet, revealing a gleaming contraption of metal and black paint. Two treaded wheels, mirrored chrome, lights, a long leather seat—it’s a transport like I’ve never seen.
“It’s a cycle,” Cal says, running a hand over the silver handlebars like a proud father. He knows and loves every inch of the metal beast. “Fast, agile, and it can go where transports can’t.”
“It looks—like a death trap,” I finally say, unable to mask my trepidation.
Laughing, he pulls a helmet from the back of the seat. I sure hope he doesn’t expect me to wear it, much less ride this thing. “That’s what father said, and Colonel Macanthos. They won’t mass-produce for the armies yet, but I’ll win them over. Haven’t crashed once since I perfected the wheels.”
“You built it?” I say, incredulous, but he shrugs like it’s nothing. “Wow.”
“Just wait until you ride it,” he says, holding out the helmet to me. As if on cue, the far wall jolts, its metal mechanisms groaning somewhere, and begins to slide away, revealing the dark night beyond.
Laughing, I take a step back from the death machine. “That’s not happening.”
But Cal just smirks and swings one leg over the cycle, sinking down into the seat. The engine rumbles to life beneath him, purring and growling with energy. I can sense the battery deep in the machine, powering it on. It begs to be let loose, to consume the long road between here and home. Home.
“It’s perfectly safe, I promise,” he shouts over the engine. The headlight blazes on, illuminating the dark night beyond. Cal’s red-gold eyes meet mine and he stretches out a hand. “Mare?”
Despite the horrible sinking in my stomach, I slide the helmet onto my head.
I’ve never ridden in an airship, but I know this must feel like flying. Like freedom. Cal’s cycle eats up the familiar road in elegant, arcing curves. He’s a good driver, I’ll give him that. The old road is full of bumps and holes, but he dodges each one with ease, even as my heart rises in my throat. Only when we coast to a stop half a mile from town do I realize I’m holding on to him so tightly he has to pry me off. I feel suddenly cold without his warmth, but I push the thought away.
“Fun, right?” he says, powering down the cycle. My legs and back are already sore from the strange, small seat, but he hops off with an extra spring in his step.
With some difficulty, I slide off as well. My knees wobble a bit, more from the pounding heartbeat still thrumming in my ears, but I think I’m okay.
“It won’t be my first choice in transportation.”
“Remind me to take you up in an airjet sometime. You’ll stick to cycles after that,” he replies as he rolls the cycle off the road, into the cover of the woods. After throwing a few leafy branches over it, he stands back to admire his handiwork. If I didn’t know exactly where to look, I wouldn’t notice the cycle was there at all.
“You do this a lot, I see.”