Broken Throne (Red Queen #4.5)(92)

He grins widely when he sees us, a tall figure on the landing ground. The jet propellers cast a furious wind, whipping Kilorn’s tawny hair back and forth. I try not to rush to him and inflate his ego any more than it already is, but I can’t help it. I’m eager to see him. And eager to get out of the cramped metal box we’ve been stuck in for three hours.

He embraces my mother first, always a gentleman with her. She’s more of a mother to Kilorn than the woman who abandoned him years ago.

“You haven’t been missing meals,” Mom jokes, patting him on the stomach. Kilorn grins and flushes. Indeed he looks broader too, filled out by Montfort food and a less-than-lethal lifestyle. While I still kept to my running schedule up at the cabin, I don’t think he can say the same. He looks healthy, normal—settled.

“You shouldn’t call him fat, Mom,” Gisa says teasingly, poking him in the side with a grin. “Even if it’s true.” Whatever schoolgirl crush she had on him, born of proximity, jealousy, or good old-fashioned want, is completely gone.

Mom swats her away, scolding. “Gisa! The boy finally looks like he’s had a decent meal.”

Not to be outdone, Kilorn musses Gisa’s hair, sending red locks spilling from her perfect bun. “Hey, I thought you were the polite one in the family, Gee,” he shoots back.

Bree hoists his pack up onto his shoulder. Then he elbows Gisa for good measure. “Try living in an isolated cabin with her for months. You’ll lose all your illusions of the little madam.”

Our sister doesn’t bother shoving him back. Bree is nearly twice her size. Instead she folds her arms and turns up her nose as she stalks away. “You know,” she calls over her shoulder, “I was going to make you a party jacket as well. But I guess I shouldn’t bother!”

Bree is after her like a shot, already whining, while Tramy follows with a grin. He won’t dare jeopardize his own outfit, so he keeps quiet. Mom and Dad follow along with shrugs of their own, content to watch everyone else scurry ahead, leaving me behind with Kilorn.

Thankfully, no one points out that I’ve somehow become the proper one in the family, what with my court training, my time spent masquerading as a princess, and my new affinity for silence. Such a change from the Stilts thief always covered in mud, sweat, and a foul temper. And Kilorn knows it. He eyes me thoughtfully, glancing over my clothes, my hair, my face. I look healthier than I did when I left, just like him.

“Well?” I hold out my arms and spin on the flat tarmac. My sweater, jacket, pants, and boots are all shades of gray or green, muted colors. I don’t intend to attract more attention than I need to. “Are you done with your examination?”

“Yep.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

He waves for me to walk next to him. “Still look like a pain in the ass,” he says as I match his pace.

I can’t help the burst of warmth in my chest. “Excellent.”

The Stilts was not a good place to grow up, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t good pieces. And I’m lucky enough to say those are still with me. Walking side by side with Kilorn, picking our way toward the city and the premier’s estate, I’m reminded of days long ago, the little things that made them bearable.

Our path takes us above most of Ascendant, the city already shadowed by the shortening days. Lights pinprick the mountainside below, some moving back and forth, marking the major roads. The lake at the base of the city reflects it all like another sky, deep blue with yellow and red stars. We move slowly, letting my parents and siblings go ahead. I catch them staring at the surroundings as I am. We forgot how beautiful it was here, in an impossible city in an impossible country.

As much as I want to stop and take it all in, I have to focus more on my breathing than anything else. The electricity pulsing through the city is more than I’ve felt in months, even when we were caught beneath a passing thunderstorm. It taps at my senses, begging to be let in. Instead of shutting out the sensation, I let it flow through me, down to my toes. This is something the electricons taught me, months ago in another country, in what feels like another life. It’s easier to flow than fight.

Kilorn watches me the entire time, green eyes dancing. I don’t feel scrutinized, though. He isn’t watching to make sure I keep control. He knows I don’t need him to do that, or anyone else. I’m my own.

“So what am I walking into?” I mutter, noting the lights in the city. Some are transports, weaving among the streets. Others are windows, lamps, lanterns, flickering on as the afternoon gives way to purple dusk. How many belong to government officials or soldiers or diplomats? Visitors?

The premier’s estate is above, the same as I remember. Is he there already?

“Things are buzzing up at the premier’s,” Kilorn replies, following my gaze. “And in the People’s Assembly. I don’t live up that way anymore, got a little place down the hill in the city, but it’s hard not to notice the constant traffic going up the mountain. Representatives, mostly, their staff, some military filtering in. The Scarlet Guard mouthpieces arrived yesterday.”

What about him?

Instead a different name falls off my tongue. It tastes like relief.

“Farley.”

She’s the closest thing I have to an older sister. I immediately wonder if she’ll be up at the estate with us, or housed somewhere in the city. I hope the former, for my own sake as well as my mother’s. Mom has been dying to see baby Clara and will probably end up sleeping wherever her grandchild is.