WAR STORM (Red Queen 4// Alternate Version)

Chapter 49

Mare

"Nobody's going to make you go in there," Farley says, elbowing me in the ribcage as we walk from my room. "Nobody would blame you if you left this country altogether, either."

I sigh, crossing my hands behind my back. "Maybe it's just to punish myself. But... in a sort, I think I owe them this."

"Maven's one thing. He tried to execute you. But Cal's another story, and now he's had a long night in the dungeons to let his thoughts of you twist and distort. I just ask you to think about this before you walk in there," she turns on her heel, heading towards the boardroom Davidson plans on holding the brothers' trial in. 

Last I saw Cal, his face alternated between blatant fury and emptiness. A blankness I found so unreadable I'm still not sure if it was a mask or not. 

"It starts in fifteen minutes," she calls over her shoulder. "Last thing you want is to walk in after they do."

^^^^^^^^^^

Davidson and the Scarlet Guard chose a small room to hold the meeting in, a place too little for me to try and hide behind any of my colleagues.

There are four chairs in the center, simple wooden chairs that look like the same ones from the wedding. Any elaborate desks or long tables that might've been here before have gotten dragged away, leaving the glassed room barren aside from the chairs.

The floor is made of a pale green marble, and the back wall is made of glass, overlooking the bridge and the other side of the city. 

Yet all I can do is stare at the chairs that will soon be filled by those I have betrayed. 

Anabel and Volo and dozens of other Silver nobility are dead because of a secret I held too well. And knowing Maven... putting him down there with Cal was a mistake. I revealed my true colors yesterday evening, and there was no reason for Maven to keep quiet about what he knew. How I've known about our rebellion for months, the battle at the Choke that I personally orchestrated, how I asked him to write a script for my speech at Cal's wedding...

"Mare." A hand brushes my arm and I flinch away. 

Tyton looks at me with worried eyes, and his brow crinkles. 

"Sorry. I'm just..." trailing off, I relax my shoulders. "I didn't sleep last night," I whisper. 

And I didn't stop crying for hours after Iocking Mareena's door and slumping against it. I think Tyton understood, despite whatever deep-rooted hate he possesses for Cal and his family. Tyton escorted the prisoners to the Bowl of Bones holding cells along with a dozen or so of the Guard. But he never came to my room. He understood. 

"Not at all?"

I swallow. "No."

His fingers brush mine as he settles against the side wall with me, in wait for them to be escorted up. 

Davidson, Farley, and two generals from Command chat near the glass wall, Davidson nodding intently. Farley and Command wear jackets similar to the one I wore yesterday, and the Premier wears simple clothing, nothing out of the ordinary from what he usually dons.

Aside from them, several guards position themselves at the room's edges, and a couple other curious Reds gather in their own groups. There aren't cameras. The first step to democracy is getting rid of the gaudiness of all that this place is, not publicizing the Silver's humiliation, but rather our victory. 

When Cal concedes his supposed birthright, then we'll broadcast it. 

The foggy glass doors glide open with lethal silence,and before the first of several guards slips in, I wipe my face of any emotion it might've held, becoming that emotionless bitch that I have to carry myself to be. Earlier, I smudged powder over the skin beneath my eyes and ran a tube of light gloss over my lips. And the black clothing isn't something for mourning. It's a display of power.