Glass Sword (Red Queen #2)(63)
Here, the two worlds of this kingdom seem to mingle, Red and Silver drawn together for a fraction of a moment. Dockworkers, soldiers, servants, and high lords cross beneath the crystal dome arcing over the massive courtyard. A fountain twists in the center, surrounded by white and blue flowers not yet touched by autumn. Sunshine shimmers through the dome, refracting dancing light onto the realm of brightly colored chaos. The fort gates are directly down the avenue from us, dappled by the shifting light of the dome. Like those of the palace, they are artfully made. Forty feet high, made of burnished bronze and silver braided into giant, swirling fish. If not for the dozens of soldiers and my sheer terror, I might find the gates magnificent. They hide the bridge beyond, and Fort Patriot farther out to sea. Horns and shouts and laughter add to the overload, until I have to look down at my boots and catch my breath. The thief in me delights at the thought of so much confusion, but the rest is frightened and frayed, a live wire trying to contain its sparks.
“You’re lucky it’s not the Night of a Single Star,” Cal murmurs, his eyes faraway. “The whole city explodes for the festival.”
I don’t have the strength or the need to respond to him. The Night is a Silver holiday, held in memory of some navy battle decades ago. It means nothing to me, but one glance at Cal and his distracted gaze tells me he doesn’t agree. He’s seen the Night in this very city, and remembers it fondly. Music and laughter and silk. Maybe fireworks over the water, and a royal feast to end the party. His father’s approving smile, jokes with Maven. Everything he’s lost.
Now it’s my turn to look faraway. That life is gone, Cal. It shouldn’t make you happy anymore.
“Don’t worry,” he adds when his expression clears. He shakes his head, trying to hide a sad smile. “We’ve made it. That’s the Security Center there.”
The building he indicates stands on the edge of the bustling square, its white walls stark against the tangled traffic below. It looks like a beautiful fortress, with thick-glassed windows, and steps leading up to a terrace surrounded by columns carved into the scaly tails of enor-mous fish. Patrolled walkways arch over the diamondglass walls of Ocean Hill, tying it to the rest of the palatial compound. The roof is also blue, decorated not with stars but spikes. Cruel iron, six feet long, and sharpened to a wicked point. For magnetrons, I suppose, to use against any kind of assault. The rest of the building is the same, covered in Silver weapons. Vines and thorny plants wind up the columns for greenwardens while a pair of wide, still pools hold dark water for nymphs. And of course, there are armed guards at every door, long rifles plain in their hands.
Worse than any guard are the banners. They flap in the sea breeze, streaming from the walls, turrets, and fishtail columns. They bear not the silver spear of Security but the Burning Crown. Black, white, and red, its points twisting in curls of flame. They stand for Norta, for the kingdom, for Maven. For everything we’re trying to destroy. And between them, on gilded banners of his own, is Maven. Or at least, his image. He stares out, his father’s crown on his head, his mother’s eyes glaring. He looks like a young but strong boy, a prince rising to the ultimate occasion. “LONG LIVE THE KING” screams beneath every picture of his sharp, pale face.
Despite the impressive defenses, despite Maven’s haunting stare, I can’t help but smile. The Center pulses with my own weapon, with electricity. It is more powerful than any magnetron, any greenwarden, any gun. It is everywhere. And it is mine. If only I could use it properly.
If only we didn’t have to hide.
If. I despise that stupid word.
It hangs in the air, close enough to touch. What if we can’t get in?
What if we can’t find Ada or Wol iver? What if Shade doesn’t come back? The last thought burns more deeply than the rest. Even though my eyes are sharp, trained on the crowded streets, I can’t see my brother anywhere. He should be easy to spot, limping along on his crutch, but he’s nowhere to be found.
Panic deepens my senses, taking away a little of the control I worked so hard to cultivate. I have to bite my lip to keep from gasping aloud.
Where is my brother?
“So now we wait?” Farley says, her voice trembling with dread of her own. Her eyes sweep back and forth, also searching. For my brother. “I don’t think even you two can get in there without Shade.”
Cal scoffs, too busy examining the Center’s defenses to spare a glance for her. “We could get in just fine. It might mean sending the whole place up in smoke. Not exactly the subtle approach.”
“No, not at all,” I murmur, if only to distract myself. But no matter how hard I try to focus on my feet or Cal’s capable hands, I can’t stop worrying about Shade. Up until this moment, I never truly doubted he would meet us. He’s a teleporter, the fastest thing alive, and a few dock thugs shouldn’t pose him any threat. That’s what I told myself back in the Paltry, when I left him. When I abandoned him. He took a bullet for me a few days ago and I threw him to the Seaskulls like a lamb to wolves.
Back in Naercey, I told Shade I didn’t trust his word. I suppose he shouldn’t trust mine either.
My fingers stray into my hood, trying to massage the ache from my neck muscles. But it brings me no respite. Because right now we’re idling in front of a veritable firing squad, waiting like stupid chickens eyeing a butcher’s knife. And while I fear for Shade, I fear for myself too. I cannot be taken. I will not.