WAR STORM (Red Queen 4// Alternate Version)

Chapter 38

~In the dark~

Jon wanted to scream. He wanted to scream all his frustrations to the world, but he could not.

The seer was trapped somewhere the Gods themselves would dread. It was dark, so dark that no stars shone because of the cold, dense fog that veiled him from the world. The ground was forever slick in something black and inky, and it was so terribly quiet and loud at the same time.

Yet despite the darkness, he could see it all.

Iris

Two weeks after the battle at the Choke, I lounge in a boardroom chair, surrounded by my supposed allies. 

This is what I get for taking Rosalyn's suggestion to become the Lakelander ambassador to Norta.

"Your title is holding fast, Your Majesty," Volo announces, sitting at Cal's right. "All but two High Houses have pledged loyalty to you, the Lakelander alliance remains strong," he nods to me, "and the Scarlet Guard and Montfort have been nothing but helpful and respectful in overseeing the transition."

Cal nods, positioned at the head of the glass table. Though they couldn't be compared to that of the Lakelands', the boardrooms here aren't unworthy by any means. Stories down and a mile away lies the other end of the Capital river through the Diamondglass wall, and the floor is a charming pale green, crafted of some sort of marble. The sky is pale with fog, but it doesn't snow. 

"I had my doubts about the Red alliance to be perfectly sincere," Cal admits, mimicking my slouch. The people seated around him-Volo, Anabel, a couple Lords of High Houses, and myself-are his closest confidants, and the king is allowed to slouch around us. Apparently. "Especially after my brother voiced those doubts aloud. But you're right. They've been peaceful and completely trustworthy. Besides, if they had wanted to strike, they would've done it by now, when our troops were still at their weakest."

"You never know," Anabel begins, joking. "The Reds aren't the brightest bunch."

Volo and the Lords chuckle along with the old queen, but I press my lips together. So does Cal. 

"Without the Reds, we would've lost ten times over. If only based on body counts, we Silvers lost a higher percentage of men than the Reds did," I say, finding it difficult to not defend Mare and Davidson. If not for them and their transport, Bart would be dead. 

The joking manner folds in on itself, but Cal rises to lift the tension. "Well, I must thank you for the report." He tilts his head towards Volo. "Now, if that's all, I best get back to my study."

The men around me nod their appreciation and file out the door, but I wait in hopes of speaking with Cal. 

"Your Majesty," I say, curtsying. The Sentinels have taken their cue to leave, and only Cal and I remain in this too-big room. 

Cal shakes his head mockingly. If his crooked smile and playful eyes were erased, he'd look the part of a true and horrifying king: a bloodred cape with his seal embroidered onto its back, charcoal boots, pants, and a long-sleeved tunic with scarlet whorls. "You know you can drop the pleasantries around me, Iris."

I feign a gasp. "It seems that no amount of kingly clothing can take away your humor, Cal. But in all seriousness, I wanted to ask you how you're doing as king. I don't believe I ever got the chance to congratulate you on the victory. A beautiful city you've inherited." My hand gestures outward to Archeon's skyline, it's lights pressing through the gentle fog. 

"Like Volo said, it's going better than I imagined it would." He's lying. "Thank you for asking. Now I just have to make the rest of the country as beautiful as this."