Broken Throne (Red Queen #4.5)(84)

Where will these people lead us?

It doesn’t matter.

I’ll always go.

The premier merely takes my hand when I pass him. We exchange nods of greeting, but little more.

“We’ll talk soon,” he says quietly, and his meaning is clear.

The offer of work.

Evangeline doesn’t miss it, though she’s already climbing the stairs into the jet. She freezes momentarily, her back stiffening. Her metallic cape ripples like the surface of a disturbed pond.

“Soon,” I echo to the premier, if only to be polite.

Truthfully, I wish I could shove him for being so blatant.

The last thing I need is any more tension with Evangeline. This is going to be difficult enough.





FIVE

Evangeline

I should sleep.

The flight to the Rift is several hours long, over the flat, empty fields of Prairie and then the winding borders of the Disputed Lands. It’s too dark to see anything out the jet window, and even the stars seem distant and dull. I won’t be able to tell when we cross into my father’s former kingdom, the land I grew up in. It’s been months since I last set foot in Ridge House, my family’s ancestral home. Before my father died, before Archeon fell. Before I was free to love who I chose and go where I wanted. The Ridge was beautiful, a sanctuary away from the razor-edged life of court, but it was a prison too.

Elane dozes on my shoulder, her cheek pressed against the soft leather of my coat. When she’s asleep, her abilities disappear, leaving her bare of her usual glow. I don’t mind. She looks lovely either way. And I like being able to glimpse behind her shield of soft light and perfect complexion. She’s vulnerable in those moments, and it means she feels safe.

That’s why I’m doing this, more than any other reason. To keep her safe.

And to bargain.

We’ll talk soon.

The premier’s words still echo.

I should focus on my speech, the broadcast, and denying my blood tomorrow, but I can’t get rid of Davidson’s words.

When Elane told me about his offer, I thought about packing our things. We wouldn’t need much. Fine gowns and pretty clothing have no use in the wilderness. All I needed was a good stockpile of metals, some training gear. Rations, of course. I still think about it sometimes, ticking off the list of what to bring if we have to run. A force of habit, I think, after the months of war and risk. It isn’t in me to trust anyone outside my small circle. Not yet, at least.

“Please don’t,” I asked her, holding her hands in mine. The sun was bright through the windows in our salon, but I remember feeling cold.

“It’s just a job, Eve,” she said, almost scolding me. “He wants me to be an aide. To accompany him like those newbloods. Watch his back, keep my ears open. He knows I have experience in Silver courts—I’ll be good at dealing with the Silvers here in Montfort. I know what they come from, how they think. It’s not like I haven’t done the same before.”

For you. I hear it in the spaces between her words. Yes, she’s spied for me in the past. Yes, she’s risked her life for mine, to help me and my family push pieces along. She spied on Maven more than once, and that was certainly a death sentence if she was caught.

“It’s not the same, Elane.” He doesn’t value your life the way I do. “You’ll sit in the corner at first, quiet and invisible. Then he’ll ask you to go places he can’t, or won’t. To watch, report back. You’ll spy on his political opponents, his military generals, his allies—and maybe his enemies too. Each assignment more dangerous than the last.” I tightened my grip on her, already feeling her slip away. Already I could picture Davidson convincing her to check up on a raider camp or the court of a Prairie warlord. “You’re a shadow, my love. Just think of what he’ll use you for.”

Her fingers ripped from mine. “Some of us are more than just our ability, Samos.”

I remember the sting of her voice, so sharp and so final. I expected her to march down to the premier’s office and accept the position on the spot. But she didn’t then, and she hasn’t yet. It’s been a long month since he offered her a place in Montfort, a permanent one. No matter how much she wants to fit in the mountains, she still waits.

For you.

I tip my head back, leaning against the wall of the jet. It isn’t fair, to hold her back. We will both need to pull our weight soon, and she’s right: she’s done this before. In more dangerous places, with worse consequences. Surely the premier will protect her?

Don’t be so naive, Evangeline.

Montfort isn’t Norta, but Montfort isn’t without its dangers either.

“You should rest,” Ptolemus whispers across the aisle, pulling me out of my thoughts. He doesn’t look up from the papers in front of him, scraps covered in his untidy scrawl. Our speeches won’t be long by any account, but he agonizes over his anyway. His tiny lamp illuminates the otherwise dark interior of the jet, punctuated only by the low lights along the ceiling and in the cockpit.

The Montfort delegates are all dozing, clustered at the back of the craft to give us space.

I shake my head, unwilling to speak and disturb Elane. Wren is out cold too, sprawled across the seats facing Ptolemus, curled beneath a fur-lined blanket, her face buried against the cool air.