Broken Throne (Red Queen #4.5)(110)

“Wining and dining!” Rafe crows, blowing Tyton a kiss. Like Ella’s, his green hair is freshly dyed. “Tomorrow, loves!”

“Tomorrow,” I echo, watching them go. I swear I’ll make time tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll keep sane otherwise.

Evangeline taps her foot loudly, impatient as ever. She inspects her nails, for once free of metal claws. “You Reds are always so sentimental.”

“You should try it.” I roll my eyes, pushing past her and into the still-lush grounds of the palace. Carmadon hasn’t neglected an inch of his husband’s government home. Guards nod at us as we go, looking impressive in their dark green coats and polished boots. Evangeline even nods back to a few, both Red and Silver. I wonder if she’s starting to make friends in her new home—if she’s even capable of making friends.

“Well, do you feel better, at least?” she asks, her breath fogging in the crisp air. Leaves crunch beneath our feet.

“Are you my bodyguard or my mother?” I grumble, meeting only her twisted smirk. “Yes, I feel better.”

“Good. It’s easier to protect people with a clear head.” She taps her hands together, her rings clinging together like bells. “So it’s been a while.”

“Two months,” I echo, not knowing what else to say.

“You certainly seemed like you needed the time away.”

Her eyes rove over me, as if she can see through my clothes all the way to my bones. Evangeline remembers what I looked like before, the last time I saw her. She had been in Montfort only a few days, having fled Archeon and the iron grip of her father. I thought she was passing through, just another refugee of the war making her way west. Never did I think she’d stay in a place like this, a country where she was equal to any Red. Equal to me.

I suppose Elane was worth the price. Love was worth the price.

When I saw her, she had crossed half the world to be here, on foot, by boat, and finally by jet. Somehow I looked so much worse. Hollow, in shock, unable to sit still or slow down. We passed each other in Carmadon’s garden, and even she knew to give me space. For once, Evangeline Samos had no snide remarks for me, and let me walk alone.

Perhaps this is the cost for such kindness. Having her trail me everywhere.

“I’m ready to be back,” I admit. Somehow, it’s an easier thing to say to her than to Gisa or Farley or Kilorn. She’s seen me at my worst, at my darkest, when I thought the rest of my life would be Silent Stone and a cruel king’s love.

Usually, Evangeline reserves her pride for herself. Today she spares some for me. “I don’t like you,” she replies, and it sounds like another admission. An acceptance. A step toward friendship.

My response is automatic. “I don’t like you either.” It draws a rare, true smile from her. “So, what’s next on my schedule? I know I skipped out on the trade meeting, but is there something else I have to be at before sunset?”

She blinks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “How should I know?”

I almost laugh. “The last time I had a bodyguard, he kept me to a schedule.” Strange. He was a Samos too.

Evangeline sighs, following my train of thought. “Lucas wasn’t all bad. He didn’t deserve to die.” Her eyes cloud a bit, darkening with memory. “And he was a better bodyguard than me. I don’t have any idea where you’re supposed to be right now.”

“Brilliant.”

The mischievous glint returns, brighter than ever. She grins, showing teeth. “I do know where someone is, though.”

My stomach flips. “Why do you keep nudging us at each other?”

“Well, before, it was to make sure he didn’t marry me. I mean, could you imagine? No thank you,” she says, pretending to retch. I purse my lips as we step into the palace. “Fine, to each her own.”

The change from crisp, cold air to the warm halls inside falls around my shoulders like a blanket. The scent doesn’t change, though. Inside and out, the palace smells like the fresh tang of pine.

“Why do you keep nudging now?” I drop my voice. Several meetings are still in session, and too many people roam the palace for my taste.

Evangeline does no such thing. “There aren’t many who deserve to be happy. I’m certainly not one of them, but here I am.” She leads me around a corner, winding us toward the entrance hall. “I think you might deserve it, Barrow.”

I gape at her. That’s one of the kindest things another person has ever said to me—and somehow it’s coming from Evangeline Samos.

Again, it feels easy to talk to her. Maybe because we aren’t friends or family. She doesn’t have the same expectations of me, or the same fears for my well-being. There’s no risk to her.

“He saw me the other night.” The words fight their way out of my mouth. “He wouldn’t speak to me.”

It feels shameful to say, shameful to even care about. I was the one who left, after all. I told him to move on if he wanted to. I won’t ask you to wait for me.

And yet he didn’t say a word.

When I look at her, I expect judgment. There is nothing but Evangeline’s usual detached sneer.

“Are you physically incapable of talking to him first?” she drawls.

“No,” I mutter, sullen.