Broken Throne (Red Queen #4.5)(64)

I puff out a breath. “That is a long way.” Obviously, idiot.

She doesn’t move. “It’s worth the cost.”

Money, she has to spare. But her life? I want to tell her what danger she’ll be in, and not just from a Lakelander prince. The triarchs, the raiders—and then when she reaches the Republic itself. Why would they take in a Silver princess?

“You’ve been planning this for a long time” is all I say instead, feeling like a coward.

She shrugs. The moonlight bounces off the water below, rippling on her face. The dark freckles across her cheeks stand out, highlight the upturned angle of her eyes. She seems made of stone, not flesh.

“Not really. I knew I wanted to run, but that was it. Until Montfort revealed themselves in their attack on Norta, I had no plan. I just knew I had to run.” Her face is still but her hands are nervous, fingers twitching over one another. “Now there’s an opportunity for something different.”

“A land where you’re equal to any Red standing next to you.”

She turns to me sharply. Her gaze is electric, charged with something I don’t understand. “I heard the Disputed Lands were like that too.”

“We call ourselves the Freelands. And I wish that were true. Just like in the Crownlands, a divide exists. We might not live at the mercy of Silvers here, but we certainly live apart, our worlds separate even on the river.” I suspect the Republic is secretly the same. Divided and weak. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever met a Silver willing to give up so much over a bad marriage.”

Her eyes narrow to slits and I feel like I’ve misstepped. My skin crawls. Idiot.

“Red or Silver, men always have trouble comprehending the lives of women.”

All I can do is bob my head, nodding. Anything else feels like another mistake. “My mother would agree with you,” I finally say, hoping to turn the conversation. I don’t want it to end. If nothing else, it’s helping pass the terror of this night. “She lives in Mizostium, near the East Gate.”

Lyrisa knows what I’m doing but allows it anyway. She looks back to the river. “Is that a . . . good part of the city?”

“Better than most.” It’s the truth. East Gate is comfortable, a strong community with deep roots. Red streets, Silver streets. Lovely gardens and fountains. I don’t know why, but I picture myself showing it to Lyrisa. If only from the deck of the keel. I shake off the thought as suddenly as it comes. I’m leaving her behind as soon as I can. “The city governs itself, and some parts are truly without law.”

“The Freelands certainly live up to their name,” she offers, sounding diplomatic. More like a Silver than before. It’s a stark reminder of who she is and who I am. The very clear divide between us, in more ways than one. “I’m excited to see more.”

“And you will,” I answer quickly, without thinking.

Her lips twitch, curling into a bitter smile. “It’s good at least one of us believes that.”

“Lyrisa—”

She waves me off easily. This time, it doesn’t feel so dismissive. “If it comes to it, if Orrian gets the upper hand, if whatever happens tips past what you and the crew can scratch your way out of . . .” She falters, searching for the words. “Let me know. And I’ll end this.”

Under the moon, I realize we look the same. Her blood and mine could be the same color. I watch her as she stares, waiting for me to give her my permission. To surrender, and be taken away. I should do it. For Riette’s life, Gill’s, Big Ean’s, and mine.

“Nah,” I drawl, turning back to the river with a shrug.

Her eyes widen in a flash, pupils blown in the dim light. Her nostrils flare in frustration. “I beg your pardon?” she says, almost too loud.

Winking, I push off the rail. “Something Reds share no matter what—we live to piss you people off. And I’m not giving some drunk prince the satisfaction. He’s got enough in this world.” Before I can stop myself, my hand grazes her arm. It sends an electric shock trailing from my fingers all the way down my spine. “He doesn’t get you.”

I leave her sputtering behind me, all my focus on keeping my back straight and my steps quiet. My cheeks flare with heat. I’m glad for the darkness as I pass Gill.

Ashe, why are you like this?

“Smitten,” I think he hisses under his breath.

If not for the Lakelander prince pursuing us, I would push him into the river.

Instead I gesture for him to lean close.

And I whisper the plan formulating in my head.





SIX

Ashe

Sometimes I wonder if the differences are more than I realize between Silver and Red. I’ve never known a Silver, or cared to know one before. There is the blood, of course: the color and what it gives. Abilities I cannot understand or comprehend. Great speed, control over water or fire or metal, animals, weather, or superior strength like Lyrisa’s. But beyond that, is there more? Are they born different from us, more rigid and cruel and violent, or do they become that way? I used to think the former. Now I’m not so sure.

I’ve spent many a sleepless night on the river. I’m used to the exhaustion. Either Lyrisa is too, or she’s talented at hiding weakness. I guess both.

The sun rises on familiar banks and growing signs of civilization along the widening river. The confluence is a major point of crossing, and docks start to peek out among the roots and rushes of the Freeland banks. To the north, the Lakelands are still mostly fields, though the road is coming. It winds down from Sanctum farther north, to dead-end at the point where the Ohius and the Great River meet. Here Lakelanders can enter the Freelands if they so dare.