WAR STORM (Red Queen 4// Alternate Version)

Chapter 47

Iris

"Cal," I murmur through the darkness, long since done in my endeavors to escape this place. "You need to stop. You're not going to get out until they want you to leave."

The scraping at the opposite side of the room pauses for a moment before resuming.

It's getting worse, I know that much. The first couple of times I told him to stop, he responded. Now it's just a pause.

"You really, truly think that the Reds would have put you in a cell without sniffing every hair of it?" Maven says from across me, the epitome of peace.

Cal doesn't say anything, but the scratching continues. A stray pebble the Reds left in his cell as a joke, probably. I found a couple in mine, but merely deposited them in the corner.

There was nothing to be done, I have to remind myself, to keep myself from going insane.

Deadly Silence radiates the air all about the chamber, that I sadly cannot call larger than my bedroom just upstairs. The Bowl of Bones holding cells, if I remember correctly.

An incessant dripping of water echoes against the rock floor at intervals of twelve seconds, twelve seconds precisely. A perfect torture for the Lakelander princess. Besides. If I ever escape, it wouldn't be enough water to inflict any real damage.

I'll kill her, though, I'll make sure to kill Mare Barrow and make it hurt. I was beginning to think of her as a friend, somebody I could tell my secrets to and expect her to keep. I allowed her to pray with me, kneel before my Gods when she never intended to be my friend.

She lies better than Maven Calore himself.

The only thoughts that chase away my woes is the reminder that Bart is out there, somewhere in the city. He couldn't have possibly been fast enough to make it out of Archeon, but he's not in this palace. Perhaps if he hadn't hesitated, had listened to my screams at him to run as though the Devil himself was chasing after him, he would've gotten out.

Davidson's shield protects the city day and night, glistening an artificial blue against the bruised sky. I might call it beautiful was I not trapped beneath it.

Cal's scratching against the wall reigns on, and I'd scream at him to stop, if I didn't have the urge to search the cell again either. But not only does he do it for the hopeless hope of there being some sort of weakness in the structure, a crack that would allow him the chance to fight against the dozens of guards that are standing in the corridors, but he does it... as a distraction. Yes, a distraction. For the quiet, to protect him from the thoughts that must beat at him so violently.

The stone is cold on my legs, the spring night's chill swimming through my thin dress and over my barren feet. They didn't so much as bother with a cot, but left us to our own devices with four walls and a floor made of bloody stone. I spent an hour combing my cell for weaknesses, and when none were found, my shaky fingers spent another hour taking apart my cornrows with meticulous care. And now, there's nothing left to do but wait.

Wait for Bart, wait for my sister, wait for Mare Barrow.

The clouds over the city must shift, because a bit of moonlight floods through the skylight.

Cal's muscular silhouette-just a simple shirt and slacks-stands at the far corner of his cell, away from the bordering cell that contains his brother. Even in the obscured light, he looks defeated, his king's posture replaced with that of a worn-out boy's. It's suiting, I suppose, as he's no longer a king. Tyton snatched his crown right off his head and made sure that Cal saw as he threw it into the river.