WAR STORM (Red Queen 4// Alternate Version)

Chapter 19

Thanks for continuing to bear with me! This fanfic is already so painfully long, and I'm just getting started! I love your comments; they inspire and encourage me! So please, continue commenting! If you're the kind of person who cares, I consider this the beginning of "Part 2" of this fanfiction.

Enjoy! "A king without supporters is no king at all."

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Evangeline

Dulled-out fluorescences blare at my vision, and if not for the heavily sugared coffee, my forehead would slump against the glass and chrome tabletop. We passed the midnight landmark a couple minutes ago, and no one is as amused and annoyed as I am.

Cal is usually transparent, but not to this degree. Everybody, even Father, can fathom why the aspiring king wished to have a meeting that I quote, 'will not cease until we've drawn up a realistic solution.' A sane person should've objected to the inane request, yet Father raised his eyebrows and nodded with glee a half an hour ago, eager to continue scheming. He'll take any chance he can curve his claws in to advance the timeline to his glory.

If that happens to be due to Cal's inexorable need for a reprieve of inner thoughts, so be it.

Right now, Mare and her puny sister should be on their way out of Archeon and are preparing to jet back to the Ridge. But, as that girl's luck would have it, something's amiss. Farley's overdue in radioing the general here in Davidson's stead and Nortan broadcasting is reporting of an attack on the palace, though the details are under wraps. No announcements on captures, releases, or deaths. The secrecy doesn't burden me, like it does Cal, spinning his flamemakers on his wrists. Whatever bombshell Maven's holding from the press will be leaked soon; even the king of fire cannot hold back an ocean.

"I've heard talk of Iris Cygnet's unliking of Maven," Anabel says, steepling her fingers together, elbows balanced on the table. "We could sway her. Sway the queen, then the Lakeland alliance belongs to us."

"What kind of alliance, Anabel? One that involves wedlock will not suffice, as Tiberias already has prior commitments," Mother counteracts, engaging in a battle of stares with the old queen.

And so it goes on, as it always does. Mostly useless arguments, always with someone who has a problem with the idea. Safe to say, we've made little progress. They spoke of the paramount-and temporary- capitals Cal could take over, warring over whether attacking Harbor Bay was suicide or not, the stance of Piedmont in this situation, and feasible propaganda. Discussion on what type of wedding cake is best may be up next.

The radio hidden under Cal's fist crackles and Julian pauses his with lips parted, slanting his head like a curious puppy. I'm still bemused on his part in the puzzle, why he comes here to offer advice, in spite of his dislike of monarchies. I'm sure he has cards left to play, just like everybody here.

Amid the static, "Can you hear me?" is asked, by a wavering female voice.

"Yes," Cal acknowledges in a chorus of other yeses. So unlike the young prince to be scared, adorning countless badges of honor, bread to be a soldier, and yet his hands twitch in a nervous pattern. "Farley, is that you?"

"Yes it is, Cal." I'm surprised to hear her use his nickname. Mare doesn't call him by that anymore, and I would've thought Farley would do the same. She sounds tired, but above that, broken. "We have Giza in our custody, and we're pretty sure Maven didn't bother in sending out patrols to look for us." Sizzles of electricity come through the speaker, muffling the general's relays, and my stomach churns with the sense with whatever we cannot pick up on is terrible news for the team.