King's Cage
Page 130

“I’ll say,” Kilorn barks, charging toward me. He crouches at my side. “Reese,” he adds over his shoulder.
But the red-haired skin healer stops a few yards away. He holds his ground. “You know that’s not how it works.”
“Reese, stop it!” Kilorn hisses. He clenches his teeth in exasperation. “She’s burned all down the back and he can barely walk.”
Cal blinks at me, still panting. His face pulls in concern and regret, but also pain. I’m in agony and so is he. The prince does his best to look strong and tries to sit up. He just hisses, immediately falling back down.
Reese holds firm. “Sparring has consequences. We’re not Silver. We need to know what our abilities do to each other.” The words sound rehearsed. If I weren’t in so much pain, I would agree. I remember the arenas where Silvers battled for sport, without fear. I remember my Training at the Hall of the Sun. A skin healer was always waiting, ready to patch up every scrape. Silvers don’t care about hurting another person because the effects don’t last. Reese looks us both over and all but wags a scolding finger. “It’s not life-threatening. They spend twenty-four hours this way. That’s protocol, Warren.”
“Normally, I would agree,” Davidson says. With sure footing, he crosses to the healer’s side and fixes him with an empty stare. “But unfortunately I need these two sharp, and I need it now. Get it done.”
“Sir—”
“Get it done.”
The dirt squeezes through my fingers, the smallest relief as I claw my hands in the ground. If it means ending this torture, I’ll listen to whatever the premier wants, and I’ll do it with a smile.
My coverall uniform is itchy and it smells like disinfecting chemicals. I would complain, but I don’t have the brain capacity. Not after Davidson’s operatives’ latest briefing. Even the premier looks shaky, pacing back and forth in front of the long table of military advisers, including Cal and me. Davidson balls his fist beneath his chin and stares at the floor with his unreadable eyes.
Farley watches him for a long moment before glancing down to read Ada’s meticulous handwriting. The newblood woman with perfect intelligence is an officer now, working closely with Farley and the Scarlet Guard. I wouldn’t be surprised if baby Clara were made an officer too. She dozes against her mother’s chest, wrapped tightly in a cloth sling. A crown of dark brown fuzz spots over her head. She really does looks like Shade.
“Five thousand Red soldiers of the Scarlet Guard and five hundred newbloods of Montfort currently hold the Corvium garrison,” Farley recites from Ada’s notes. “Reports put Maven’s forces in the thousands, all Silver. Massing at Fort Patriot in Harbor Bay, and outside Detraon in the Lakelands. We don’t have exact numbers, or an ability count.”
My hands tremble on the flat of the table, and I quickly shove them under my legs. In my head, I tick off who could possibly be aiding Maven’s attempt to retake the fortress city. Samos is gone; Laris, Iral, Haven too. Lerolan, if Cal’s grandmother can be believed. As much as I want to disappear, I force myself to speak. “He has strong support in Rhambos and Welle. Strongarms, greenwardens. Arvens too. They’ll be able to neutralize any newblood attack.” I don’t explain further. I know what Arvens can do firsthand. “I don’t know the Lakelanders, beyond the nymph royals.”
The Colonel leans forward, bracing his palms on the table. “I do. They fight hard, and they endure. And their loyalty to their king is unyielding. If he throws his support to the wretch—” He stops himself and glances sidelong at Cal, who doesn’t react. “To Maven, they won’t hesitate to follow. Their nymphs are deadliest of course, followed by storms, shivers, and windweavers. Stoneskin berserkers are a nasty bunch too.”
I flinch as he names each one.
Davidson spins on his heel to face Tahir in his seat. The newblood looks incomplete without his twin, and leans oddly, as if to compensate for his absence. “Any update on the time frame?” the premier barks. “Within the week isn’t narrow enough.”
Squinting his eyes, Tahir focuses elsewhere, far beyond the room. To wherever his twin might be. Like many of the operations here, Rash’s location is classified, but I can guess. Salida was once embedded in Maven’s newblood army. Rash is a perfect replacement for her, probably working as a Red servant somewhere in the court. It’s quite brilliant. Using his link to Tahir, he can ferry information as quickly as any radio or communication link, without any of the evidence or possibility of interception.
“Still confirming,” he says slowly. “Whispers of . . .” The newblood stills, and his mouth drops into an O of surprise. “Within the day. An attack from both sides of the border.”
I bite my lip, drawing blood. How could this happen so quickly? Without warning?
Cal shares my sentiment. “I thought you were keeping watch on troop movements. Armies don’t mass overnight.” A low current of heat ripples from him, baking along my right side.
“We know the bulk of the force is in the Lakelands. Maven’s new bride and her alliance put us in a bit of a bind,” Farley explains. “We don’t have nearly enough resources there, now that most of the Guard is here. We can’t monitor three separate countries—”
“But you’re sure it’s Corvium? You’re absolutely sure?” Cal snaps.
Ada nods without hesitation. “All intelligence points to yes.”