Broken Throne

by Victoria Aveyard

  Then Orrian raises his hand for a third time and Lyrisa moves, lightning fast, her hand grabbing his wrist. The threat is plain as day. She could tear his entire arm off if she wanted. “Pick on someone your own size,” she spits in disgust.

  Orrian sneers but doesn’t move. He could subdue her with the river, but not before inflicting terrible pain on himself. I was right. He’s a coward through and through.

  They stare at each other with such hatred I fear it might set the boat aflame.

  Good.

  “Now that we’re all acquainted . . . ,” I sigh, raising my pistol. In the shallows, Orrian’s nobles tense, ready to spring. Until I put the gun to Lyrisa’s temple, cold metal against skin. “Let’s get down to bargaining, shall we?”

  For a moment, all is still. Lyrisa’s face drains of color; her eyes flash to mine, wide and afraid, her lips moving without sound. And Orrian brays a laugh, drenching us both with spittle. Lyrisa doesn’t loosen her grip, but she slackens in shock, staring at me with such pain and accusation I nearly falter.

  “Ha-ha!” the prince howls, still standing upon his watery step. “What a show this has been. Oh, bravo, rat—bravo!” Then he looks over his shoulder, to his friends cackling and laughing as loudly as he is. “Did you hear that? Lyri probably paid this rat too, and now he’s trying to sell her back to me! You’re a smart one, I’ll give you that,” he adds, swinging back to me with a wagging finger.

  “I’m a survivor,” I tell him, and he laughs again.

  “Then tell me, survivor,” he sneers, “why don’t I just take her right now, flood your wretched excuse for a boat, and leave you drowning behind me?”

  I blink at him like the answer is so obvious. “Because I’ll kill her. There are no magnetrons with you, and a bullet moves pretty quickly at this range.” Then I glance at his wrist and Lyrisa’s fingers still tight on his skin. “Pretty sure she might take your hand with her too.”

  He bares his teeth, an animal denied an easy kill. With a will, he steps up and over the rail, wet boots slamming against my deck. Lyrisa is forced to step back, me moving with her, her back square against my chest. But she never loosens her grip.

  “Let me go, Lyri,” he hisses into her face.

  Her grip only tightens, and a sheen of sweat coats his brow. She’s hurting him, just enough to remind him of what a precipice he stands upon. Behind him, his nobles move farther into the water, crawling up the sides of the keel to jump onto the deck. They outnumber us almost two to one, odds no Silver needs against Reds. Riette and Gill keep their gun sights on two, but they’re terrified, barrels trembling.

  Lyrisa doesn’t break, even with Orrian standing over her and my gun jammed against her skull. She’s caught and caged, and still refusing to yield.

  Behind me, the crew moves as we discussed. Toward the cargo hold, the trapdoor below propped ajar by Big Ean’s boot.

  “Lyrisa,” Orrian says, his voice changing so quickly it shocks me. Now his words are honeyed, and he says her name with loving reverence. Like the princess, he slips behind a mask too easily. It frightens me. “Let’s put this behind us, my dear. It’s natural to be afraid before a wedding, to fear a new country and a new life. I’m willing to forget this, or, better yet, thank you for it!” He gestures to his friends with his free hand, his grin manic. “We haven’t had such fun in ages. So let me go, give the man what’s left of the coin in your belt, and let’s get off this stinking boat. Hmm?”

  “So few of you,” she replies, her eyes darting over the noble faces leering at her. I suppose she knows them all. “And weaklings too. Barely worth the blood in their veins. Drunks and imbeciles. I’m surprised this is the best you could do, Orrian. I thought you a prince?”

  “You strongarm bi—!”

  With a growl, she twists her hand and snaps his wrist, the sound of bones breaking somehow louder than his resulting scream. He falls to his knees, clutching a hand now hanging off the joint, kept in place only by skin. The sight nearly makes me vomit, but I keep my bearings, moving the pistol from Lyrisa’s head to Orrian’s.

  His nobles are already lunging, their weapons and abilities ready. Behind me, Big Ean flicks his lighter open, the clink of metal as warming as my mother’s voice.

  I squeeze, blasting off a round.

  But the gun jams.

  “Shit,” I whisper.

  Orrian’s eyes are like a hurricane at the Gates, ready to rip me apart. The river rises behind him, born of all his fury, a wall eager to crush me.

  I’m sailing through the air before I can register what’s happening, hurtling for the deeper water off the bank. Then I realize: Lyrisa tossed me as easily as a doll. I barely have time to heave a breath before I crash into the water, narrowly missing a child’s raft. I learned to swim when I learned to walk, and I fight back to the surface easily, breaking through in time to see Big Ean, Riette, and Gill leap from the side of my keel, their bodies silhouetted against the spread of flame.

  And I’m left to hope Lyrisa did the same, jumping into the water as the cargo hold filled with spilled oil and alcohol caught fire. She knew the plan. Well, almost all of it. I had to improvise a bit. I hope she’ll forgive me for holding a gun to her head.

  The wave falls in on itself as the keel burns, signaling the end of Prince Orrian. Burned or torn apart by a strongarm or both. Screams rise with the smoke, impossible to decipher. I swim as fast as I can, legs kicking, arms pumping, to close distance.

  On the river, other boats stop to watch, and one of the river kids is good enough to slow her raft next to me, letting me grab hold. She steers the small motor with one hand, lazy and at ease despite the pillar of smoke up ahead.

  When I get close to the bank, the crew are already fighting out of the shallows, torn between triumph and defeat. We lost the keel, but we lived. Exhausted, I let the river girl pull me up to them, and Big Ean offers a hand, half dragging me to my feet.

  We look back together at the now-crumbling hulk of my boat. It exploded quickly, faster than I anticipated. Anyone aboard would surely have been incinerated. A few yards away, one of the hounds bales mournfully, before the pair runs off together.

  My chest tightens, a sharp pain springing to my eyes.

  “Did she . . . ?” Gill murmurs, but Riette waves him off.

  Together, we wait for one of the Silvers to fight their way out of the river. An enemy or a friend, we don’t know. I hope for Lyrisa, hope her luck was as good as mine. But the boat sinks and no one comes.

  I wish I could have shown her the Gates.

  SEVEN

  Lyrisa

  The river washes clean most of the blood. If not for the water, I would be soaked in it. Orrian’s, mostly. That tends to happen when you remove a head.

  It doesn’t wash away the memory. I doubt anything ever will.

  The river fumed behind him, rising like the wings of a predatory bird. On either side, his friends lunged at me, slowed by their drunken state. The worst of them was Helena, but she was at the far end. A strongarm like me, she would have been difficult to kill.

  But I could only look at Orrian, screaming beneath me, trying to rise from his knees. There was fire in his eyes. No, that was the ship, the cargo hold catching alight, exploding from either end.

  “You will be mine,” he hissed, even as my hands closed on either side of his head. In that moment, I saw my life as it could have been, as so many had lived before me. Resigned to a crown, unhappy and spreading that unhappiness. Miserable in my strength and power. Inflicting my pain on everyone around me, and my children after me.

  I would not have that life for myself, not even if the alternative was to die.

  I felt the spray of the river as it trembled over us, claws reaching for my throat. I grabbed and pulled. I don’t know what I expected to happen. For him to die, certainly. Perhaps for his skull to break before his spine. Instead his neck tore clean, like I was removing the top from a jar. I didn’t know a body could do that.

  I did
n’t know there could still be so much blood, a heart still beating even without a head.

  Strange, his water saved me. It crashed as soon as he died, falling upon us both even as the ship burned. I dove as fast as I could, my wet clothes reluctant to catch fire. Even so, I felt the searing pain of the flames behind me, consuming everything and everyone still left on the ship.

  I feel them now, hot and angry. They’ll need tending, but I doubt I’ll find a skin healer at the confluence. In Memphia, maybe. For now I’ll have to make do with what I can cobble together from the market town.

  It was the right thing to do. Keep low in the water, watch the bank. Wait for Ashe and his crew to move on. Let them think I died with Orrian. Let no whisper of me travel down this river. Let no one else follow my trail.

  It’s the only way to get away properly. Leave no trace.

  I’ll have to be more judicious with my coin. Luckily, the pouch on my belt survived the explosion and the river. It should be enough, if I spend it wisely.

  First things first, I manage to trade my Lakelander uniform, soaked as it is, for better-fitting clothes. The coveralls stink, but they’ll do, and I’m eager to get out of a dead woman’s clothes. The market town is larger than I anticipated, with hundreds of stalls spread out across dirt streets and the docks. Keels, ferries, and even larger boats crowd the riverbank, loading and unloading cargo and passengers. It won’t be difficult to book passage to the Gates. It won’t be hard to leave this world behind, as I have so many others.

  The ground beneath my feet shifts from earth to wooden plank to earth again, this part of the river junction crossed by smaller canals and shifting streams. I keep my head down, my ears open, and my hair loose to hide my face. I catch snippets of conversation here and there, some of it about the “commotion” at the confluence. The rest is jarringly normal. Traders exchanging news, boatmen reuniting with friends, gamblers advertising games, merchants their wares. I pass it all quickly, aiming for the main docks where the larger boats wait.

  Until one voice above the rest gives me pause.

  A sly voice, familiar, with a confident smirk behind it.

  I turn to find a small crowd gathered, ringing a table with two chairs, one of them occupied by a kindly, smiling ox of a person. He offers a hand to another large man as he gets up from the table, rubbing his arm with a grimace.

  “No hard feelings?” Ean says, still smiling in his gentle way.

  The Red opponent turns without another word, cursing under his breath. He leaves coins on the table as he stomps off, his footsteps shaking the planks beneath my feet.

  Ashe is quick to scoop the coins into his jacket pocket, still drying beneath the afternoon sun. He claps Ean on the back.

  “Well done, Ean,” he says with a grin, before turning back to the market crowd of travelers and traders. “Come on now, anyone else want to try Big Ean? Strongest arm this side of the Freelands! All or nothing, first arm to touch the table wins the coin!”

  I shouldn’t stop. I should keep walking. Pay my way onto a boat and go.

  Instead I find myself parting the people in front of me, my coin purse in hand.

  I smirk as I sit, laying my money out slowly. Then I put my arm out, elbow to the tabletop, hand open and ready.

  Big Ean balks, but I only have eyes for Ashe.

  He stares at me, his face impassive for a second. Then his lips curve into a grin.

  “I’ll take that bet,” I tell them both.

  TIMELINE

  290–300:

  •The Scarlet Guard is formed in the Lakelands. Gradually, its influence and power will grow throughout the kingdom and bleed across its borders to Norta.

  SUMMER 296:

  •Tiberias VI is crowned King of Norta following the passing of his father, Tiberias V.

  FALL 300:

  •Crown Prince Tiberias is born to Tiberias VI and his wife, Coriane, of House Jacos. He is nicknamed Cal.

  LATE FALL 302:

  •Mare Barrow is born in the Stilts to Daniel and Ruth Barrow.

  FALL 301:

  •After the death of his first wife, King Tiberias VI marries Elara of House Merandus.

  WINTER 302:

  •Prince Maven Calore is born to King Tiberias VI and Queen Elara.

  SUMMER 320:

  •Queenstrial is held. While working as a servant, the Red girl Mare Barrow displays an impossible Silverlike ability. She is disguised in the court as a Silver woman to hide this new power.

  LATE SUMMER 320:

  •After weeks of aggression, the Scarlet Guard attempts to seize Whitefire Palace in Archeon, but fails. Betrayed by Maven, Mare is exposed as a Scarlet Guard operative and Cal is forced to kill his own father. Mare and the crown prince are arrested and sentenced to death. They narrowly escape with the help of the Scarlet Guard.

  •With his brother in exile, Maven is crowned King of Norta.

  FALL 320:

  •Mare and the Scarlet Guard travel throughout Norta, looking for more Reds with Silver abilities to join their army. They are called newbloods.

  LATE FALL 320:

  •After their team is cornered, Mare trades herself to King Maven in exchange for their lives. She is imprisoned in Whitefire Palace.

  WINTER–SPRING 321:

  •King Maven undertakes a coronation tour of Norta and negotiates an end to the Lakelander War. He breaks his betrothal to Evangeline of House Samos to cement the peace treaty with a marriage to Princess Iris of the Lakelands.

  •The Scarlet Guard pushes the fortress city Corvium into riots and chaos. Led by the exiled Cal, they conquer the city.

  SPRING 321:

  •After months as Maven’s prisoner and political puppet, Mare escapes with the help of Evangeline during a Scarlet Guard uprising at Maven’s wedding.

  •The Kingdom of the Rift is formed by House Samos.

  •The democratic Free Republic of Montfort allies with the Scarlet Guard, hoping to remake the Silver kingdoms of the east into blood-equal democracies. They forge a shaky alliance with Piedmont, based on blackmail, but have many resources and troops.

  EARLY SUMMER 321:

  •Together with the Lakelands, Maven attempts to win back Corvium, but his army is defeated by an alliance of the Scarlet Guard, Montfort, the Rift, and rebelling Silver houses led by Tiberias VI’s mother, Anabel Lerolan.

  •The king of the Lakelands is killed in the attempt on Corvium.

  •After the battle, the Red and Silver alliance proclaims Cal as Tiberias VII, the true King of Norta.

  SUMMER 321:

  •The alliance of Tiberias VII, the Scarlet Guard, and the Rift petition and win aid from Montfort’s government.

  •Acting on behalf of her husband, Queen Iris of Norta removes the leverage Montfort has over Prince Bracken of Piedmont. The Silvers overtake the Montfort base in Piedmont.

  LATE SUMMER 321:

  •The Red and Silver alliance strikes the tech slum New Town and Harbor Bay at the same time, winning both from King Maven. The two sides agree to a parley.

  • Queen Iris turns on her husband and trades him over to the alliance in exchange for the man who killed her father.

  •Maven is stripped of his crown and sentenced to execution by his brother. The war for the throne is won, and the undisputed king refuses to step down. The Scarlet Guard and Montfort dissolve their alliance with Norta, and kidnap Maven before he can be killed.

  •The Lakelands return in full force to assault the weakened Norta, striking the capital at Archeon. Evangeline and Ptolemus of House Samos flee the city, forsaking their royal house. Their father, King Volo Samos, dies in the battle. The Nortan forces are almost overrun, until the Scarlet Guard and Montfort infiltrate the city with Maven’s guidance. When he tries to escape in the battle, Mare Barrow is forced to kill the fallen king.

  •King Tiberias VII abdicates his throne in favor of a new Norta and reconstruction into the Nortan States begins.

  * * *

  Montf
ort archivists have been hard at work, as have I, to best record and comprehend the events of the last year or so, including the Nortan Civil War. Naturally our own historians have been somewhat lacking, both in point of view and in the ability to write while weathering a change in government. Obviously, the documentation I have found in Norta is quite biased toward the Silver viewpoint and not worthy of inclusion just now. That said, I found it fascinating to look back on events through another lens, and you might find it useful as well, if not simply interesting.

  —JJ

  * * *

  safe passage for Ardents in hostile nations. The Monfortan government and military undertook a joint operation to identify, warn, and relocate Ardents within Prairie, Piedmont, Norta, the Lakelands, and the Disputed Lands. The need for secrecy complicated our efforts, but thousands of these individuals and their families were removed from these lands in the years leading up to the Nortan Civil War.

  The first Ardent to be publicly identified outside Montfort was Mare Barrow, a young woman from the Capital Valley of Norta. At seventeen years old, while working as a servant to the Royal Family of Norta, she was caught on a Nortan broadcast using her electricon ability. While the Nortan government and monarchy quickly covered up her blood status by labeling her a Silver noblewoman, it was clear to anyone with knowledge of Ardents what she truly was. Barrow was betrothed to the second prince of Norta, Maven Calore, and used as a vital tool in Queen Elara Merandus’s plot to usurp her husband and place her son on the throne of Norta. While living as a Silver noble, Barrow was contacted by the Scarlet Guard, a rebel group, and oathed herself to their cause. She gathered intelligence and aided the Guard in its efforts to destabilize the Nortan government. Barrow was integral to organizing the Sun Shooting, one of the Scarlet Guard’s first open acts of violence in Norta. During a failed Scarlet Guard coup, Queen Elara arranged the murder of King Tiberias VI. Barrow and his heir, Prince Tiberias, were framed for the deed and sentenced to execution. They escaped with the aid of the Scarlet Guard. (For more information on the Scarlet Guard, see subsection 12.)