Broken Throne

by Victoria Aveyard

  Following the exposure of Mare Barrow, Montfort dispatched more operatives to Norta and the Lakelands. Most were assigned to observing and eventually making contact with the Scarlet Guard, while several were charged with tracking down Barrow for purposes of alliance. The latter did not succeed. After rendezvousing with the Scarlet Guard at one of the group’s bases, she left with a small detachment including Prince Tiberias, a Scarlet Guard captain, and her brother, another Ardent. (For more information on Ardent inheritance, see subsection 3.) Montfort intelligence postulates that Barrow was forced to flee the Guard base, fearing persecution of herself and the Nortan prince. On the Nortan mainland, her team, much like our own, sought out other Ardents (now widely recognized and called newbloods in Norta) to protect them from the Silver government.

  Now king, Maven Calore was seeking newbloods as well. Barrow was operating off a list utilizing Red blood mapping, a Nortan innovation. Later on, Montfort would use similar tactics to expand its objective of finding, protecting, and sometimes relocating Ardents in danger. On the outskirts of the radiated lands of the Wash, in the once-abandoned Corros Prison, Queen Elara was collecting the Ardents her son found. She was believed to be examining them and using her whisper ability to control them. Barrow and her group stormed Corros, and Queen Elara died at Barrow’s hands. King Maven tripled his efforts to find Barrow, and she was eventually forced to turn herself over to the Silver king. It’s clear the young monarch became obsessed with the Ardent following her time in the Nortan court.

  King Maven was quick to use Barrow to his advantage, putting out broadcasts of her to the Nortan nation. On camera, she rebuked the Scarlet Guard and praised King Maven, calling for Ardents like her to join him. Paired with King Maven’s decrees lifting harsh measures on the Red population, it increased his popularity within the kingdom considerably. Many Ardents answered Barrow’s call, joining the king’s army to be trained and wielded as his weapons. The first vestiges of fracture appeared during an attempted assassination of King Maven, when three Silver houses declared open rebellion against their king. They supported the return of Prince Tiberias. During King Maven’s coronation tour of Norta, the Scarlet Guard and the exiled prince captured the fortress city of Corvium, weakening Norta’s northern defenses. Feeling the strain, King Maven signed a treaty with the Lakelands, effectively ending the Lakelander War, which had lasted more than a century. He was forced to break his betrothal to a Samos noblewoman to marry Princess Iris of the Lakelands instead. Now the Silvers of both Norta and the Lakelands were free to turn all their military might on the Scarlet Guard, which was still growing in size, notoriety, and danger.

  The Scarlet Guard struck again, attacking Archeon during the royal wedding of King Maven to the Lakelander princess. This was the first joint effort between the Scarlet Guard and Montfort, following weeks of careful contact and planning. During the attack, the combined forces rescued Barrow and dozens of Ardents, and raided the Nortan treasury to further fund the rebel efforts. Unbeknownst to the Nortans, Montfort had facilitated a deal with the neighboring nation of Piedmont, and the assaulting force returned to a military base in the south. The Kingdom of Norta splintered further when Lord Volo Samos declared himself King of the Rift, and his region seceded from Norta. This is generally considered a watershed in the Nortan Civil War.

  King Maven moved to retaliate against the Red rebellion. Some weeks later, he and an allying force from the Lakelands marched on rebel-occupied Corvium. Together, the Scarlet Guard and Montfortan troops led by Premier Dane Davidson were able to throw back the Nortan and Lakelander assault. They were aided by Samos troops from the Rift as well as other rebelling Silver houses led by Anabel Lerolan, a former queen of Norta and grandmother to Prince Tiberias. Facing defeat, King Maven was forced to flee with his army, and King Orrec of the Lakelands was dead, killed at the hands of a lord acting on behalf of King Volo. Following their victory at the Battle of Corvium, the Scarlet Guard, Montfort, the Rift, and Lerolan turned their coalition into an unprecedented Red and Silver alliance against King Maven.

  Unable to maintain Corvium and the Piedmont base, while still manning the war effort in Norta, the coalition elected to destroy the fortress city. Prince Tiberias named himself the true King of Norta, backed by the Red and Silver alliance, which pledged to put him back on the Nortan throne. He was betrothed to Princess Evangeline of the Rift, to cement a much-needed alliance. Still needing more troops, King Tiberias VII, Queen Anabel, Princess Evangeline, Mare Barrow, and General Farley of the Scarlet Guard accompanied Premier Davidson to Montfort. Together, they petitioned the People’s Assembly and were given more troops to overthrow Maven. During this time, the Montfort arrangement with Piedmont fell apart, and King Maven’s forces took over their base in the south. King Tiberias struck back in a double-pronged attack, directing the bulk of his forces to Harbor Bay, a vital city to the Nortan war effort and economy. Barrow, Scarlet Guard troops, Montfort Ardents, and Premier Davidson himself took over a Red tech slum nearby. Even though Lakelanders, including the ruling Queen Cenra herself, arrived with a fleet to protect Harbor Bay, Tiberias’s forces were victorious. After nearly dying to win the city, King Tiberias organized a parley between his coalition and Maven’s alliance. No agreement was reached until Queen Anabel offered up a trade—the killer of King Orrec for Maven. Both Queen Cenra and Princess Iris agreed, and they turned on King Maven Calore. He was brought back to Harbor Bay in chains. With Maven defeated, the Scarlet Guard and the Premier of Montfort offered King Tiberias a choice: step down from the throne, or lose their alliance against the still-hostile Lakelands. Tiberias chose his crown, and the Scarlet Guard, Barrow, and Davidson returned to Montfort with a kidnapped Maven.

  In Norta, King Tiberias struggled to hold together the pieces of a country falling apart, with many Silvers remaining loyal to his brother. The Lakelands moved to strike the capital, meaning to conquer all of remaining Norta in a single swoop. Together, Montfort and the Scarlet Guard interceded, using Maven’s guidance to infiltrate the city. King Tiberias and his army were surrounded until he was once again given the choice to step down. He pledged to abdicate, and the joint troops pushed back the Lakelander force. King Volo Samos died in the battle, while his son and daughter went missing. Mare Barrow killed Maven Calore when he attempted to escape the city. Queen Cenra’s fleet was forced to retreat when Scarlet Guard submersives appeared in the river and torpedoed the Lakelander ships. They escaped to the sea and then to their homeland, their navy severely hobbled by the Battle of Archeon.

  In the following weeks, the Ardent Mare Barrow returned to Montfort while her adoptive country, the Scarlet Guard, and the shattered Norta attempted to rebuild.

  * * *

  Below are my attempts at the flags of the new alliance. The Nortan States, the Scarlet Guard, and Montfort.

  * * *

  * * *

  And the flags of our direct adversaries—Piedmont, the Silver Secession of Norta, and the Lakelands.

  * * *

  IRON HEART

  ONE

  Evangeline

  Despite the autumn chill, the sun is bright overhead, and I squint behind my shaded glasses. The garden is empty, albeit still green and thriving. The mountain cold holds no sway over Carmadon’s domain. There are flowers, a vegetable patch, fruit trees, even a meticulous square of corn growing in half a dozen rows. The premier’s husband tends to this corner of the city estate like a pet, visiting every morning and every evening. He’s a greenwarden, and he doesn’t need much time to take care of it, but he lingers anyway. Still, he can’t spend all day here, and that leaves the afternoon blissfully quiet.

  It’s a good place to hide.

  Not that I’ll ever admit to doing such a thing.

  I pluck another mint leaf and crush it into my drink, spinning the cubes of ice with a rattle. The sharp bite of sweet whiskey and sugar floods me with warmth. I lie back in the sunlight, content to be still on the blanket I took from our suite of rooms upsta
irs. It’s soft wool, not meant for grass or dirt, but that’s what servants are for.

  It should only be another hour or two. I could sleep the minutes away if I wanted. But that feels like something a coward would do. Remove herself from the equation entirely. And I still have some pride left. Not much, but some.

  Elane is busy. By design. She knows I want to spend this afternoon alone, without an audience. I might revel in her attention most days, but not right now. No one else needs to see Evangeline Samos running from her duty one more time.

  I reach the bottom of my glass too quickly, draining the last drops of alcohol. If I didn’t want to be found, I might call for a servant and order another. I settle for turning the glass over in my hand instead, holding it up to the sky. The sun sparkles on the many facets of the crystal cup, reminding me of the way Elane can make light dance and split. She fits here better than I do. Not perfectly, of course. The Free Republic of Montfort is as different from our home as can be possible. Silvers, Reds, and newbloods, living together as equals. Beneath a democracy, of all things. It’s still a shock. I should get used to it, though. This is my place now, and Montfort is what the Nortan States are going to become, if all goes to plan.

  I don’t put much faith in plans these days, not when I know firsthand how easily they can change.

  Another reason I like the garden—there isn’t much metal here. I don’t have to feel anything I don’t bring with me. And these days, I bring very little. In my old life, I used to wear dresses formed from sheets of chrome, or pants laced with steel. Iron-toed boots. Armored jackets. Platinum crowns. Even my most beautiful gowns were bulletproof. My clothes were a message as much as an artistry, displaying the strength and power we Silvers held so dear in Norta. And everything I wore came in varying shades of black and silver, the colors of House Samos. A family that no longer exists, or at least is of no importance anymore.

  Cousins of iron, kings of steel. The refrain rings in my head, an echo and a ghost. I would forget those words if I could, and the ill-fated ambitions that birthed them.

  Though I have no cause to fear attack in Montfort, I’m not an idiot, and I don’t go anywhere without some metal. It’s just jewelry today. A necklace, a bracelet, several rings, all winking around the edges of my soft sweater. Enough to defend myself if needed, but easy to forget it’s even there. I wonder if this is what everyone else feels. Nothing but themselves. The cold breeze, the scratch of drying grass, the sun dipping steadily toward the distant mountains. I like the emptiness, vulnerable as it leaves me. I sit back, enjoying the sensation, and look upward. I can see the peaks even over the walls of the garden, their heights crowned in deepening snow. Mare went up there once, trying to outrun something. I understand the urge. Now she’s somewhere even farther north, still recuperating. Still mourning. Still running, even if she’s finally standing still.

  Suddenly the edge of my perception sings. The lack of metal on my person also makes it easy to sense intruders. This one has no weapons, no guns that I can feel, but his steps are sure and quick, closing the distance from the far side of the garden. I clench a fist, reluctant to move and break the silent spell of afternoon. I know who the visitor is. I can feel the wedding band on his finger. Gold and silver both, braided into a circle.

  “I promise, I’m not disturbing the plants,” I mutter, drawing up my knees as Carmadon approaches.

  He surveys me with a keen eye, smirking in his usual way. His gaze snags on my empty glass. “That mint wasn’t ready.”

  “It tasted ready,” I lie, the air cold in my mouth.

  The premier’s husband chuckles, showing even, white teeth. He doesn’t mind the temperature like I do; he’s used to the shifting weather of the mountains. This is his home, and he has watched it change more than I can fathom. Sometimes I forget his blood is as silver as my own, despite the cool undertones to his dark skin. He’s married to a newblood, and he certainly acts like one.

  He folds his arms, settling into a firm stance. Carmadon is a handsome man, and he cuts a striking figure against the autumn sun. As always, he wears white, fresh as fallen snow. “I know that locks aren’t an obstacle to you, Evangeline, but they should at least be a suggestion.” With a tick of his thumb, he gestures across the garden, in the direction of a gate now hanging off its hinges.

  “My lord Carmadon,” I reply, pretending to bask. Donning a winning smile forged in a lost court, I push the shaded glasses up onto my head. “I’m simply enjoying your fine work. Isn’t that the point of this place?” I wave a hand at the garden still in bloom. “To show off?”

  Of all the Montfortans, I think Carmadon tolerates me most. So it rankles when he shakes his head. “Sometimes I forget how much you have to learn.”

  I sneer, feeling the familiar prickle of annoyance. I’m not a child and I’m not stupid. I will not be condescended to.

  “I suppose this is a good place to think,” he says, gesturing to the meticulously arranged garden. “You know, there are clerks in the city who specialize in job placement. Perhaps I can arrange an appointment for you?”

  I roll my eyes. The careful prodding toward finding a profession, a life, here in Montfort never ceases to annoy. Even if my time living off the Republic’s government is coming to an end soon, I don’t want to think about it. Not today.

  “Whatever job I choose will be lucky to have me. I don’t need placement.” And I don’t need to be reminded of the clock steadily ticking against me, against Elane, against Tolly and Wren.

  Carmadon knows it too. But it doesn’t stop him from pressing on. “You’re a talented young woman, yes, but you’ll fare much better if you line up a job before my husband’s government stops paying your way.”

  Quickly I push to my feet, slinging the blanket over my shoulder. A flush rises on my cheeks, hot with blood. I don’t need to listen to this. Not today.

  “If your intent was to drive me out of your little vegetable patch, then well done. You’ve succeeded,” I mutter.

  “Oh please, don’t leave on my account. I don’t mind you visiting my garden. But eventually your brother is going to come stomping through and crush something he shouldn’t.” His easy, joking manner returns as quickly as it disappeared. “That, I would like to avoid.”

  Mention of my older sibling puts me on edge. My fingers curl tighter around the blanket, and suddenly I wish for something large and metallic to shred. “Ptolemus doesn’t know I’m here.”

  Carmadon tips his head, letting the afternoon light gleam against his naked scalp. “You think he isn’t going to search every inch of this place until he finds you?”

  “He doesn’t have the time.”

  “That jet won’t leave until he wants it to,” he scoffs. “You can’t wait him out.”

  At that I laugh out loud. The sound echoes through the empty garden, a bark more than a demure laugh. Sneering, I lay the blanket back down with a flourishing wave, before sprawling out against the fabric. Feeling petty, I even slide my shaded glasses back into place. “Watch me, Carm.”

  Only his eyes flicker in response. Coal black, but flecked with deep, emerald green. I shriek when something wriggles beneath me, a snake or a—

  Vine.

  A dozen of them, swift and taking me by surprise. I lash out with my bracelet, weaving it into a razorlike whip, but the vines twist and dodge, pushing me back to my feet in a graceless heap. One even flicks the blanket over me, covering my head.

  “Excuse me,” I snap, ripping the blanket away. My faces flushes again and I can feel my hair falling out of its braid. If I didn’t look like a mess before, I certainly do now. “That was quite rude.”

  Carmadon drops into an exaggerated, insulting bow. “I beg your pardon, Princess.”

  The title lands the way it should. Like a kick in the gut. The rings on my fingers sharpen, growing spikes as my insides twist. For a second I stare at the grass, trying to collect my thoughts and swirling feelings. But they dance beyond my grasp, too far to reach.
<
br />   Princess Evangeline. Lady of House Samos. Daughter of Volo and Larentia.

  I am none of those things anymore. Not after today. I should be glad—I should be relieved to be rid of the name and the life my parents gave me. And parts of me are. But the rest of me can’t help but be reminded of what I traded away to live as who I am now. What I betrayed. What I killed. What I lost forever.

  “Will you miss it?” Carmadon asks softly, taking a step forward. I shift as he moves, keeping my distance.

  My eyes crack back to his, blazing and furious. A challenge and a shield. “Titles and crowns mean nothing here. There won’t be anything to miss.”

  But I feel the absence like a hole in me. I’ve felt it every day for weeks, since I set foot on that underground train, put Archeon behind me, and abandoned my parents to whatever fate waited for them. My blood runs cold. I know what happened. I wasn’t there, but I know. And the thought of my father, terrible as he was, walking off the bridge, his body broken and smashed apart below . . . I can’t stand it. I hate it. I wish I never knew.

  “You should be going with Ptolemus.” Carmadon is undeterred by my emotional storm, ignoring it as kindly as he can. “It’s the best way to end this.”

  Behind me, his vines slither back over the grass, curling over one another. I turn with my old skill, loosing the necklace from my throat. It slices the thickest vine in two with a satisfying hiss before wrapping around my neck again.

  “Are you going to make me?” I ask, doing all I can to keep my voice in check. I’ve already made my decision. Will no one honor that? “Will the premier?”

  “No, Evangeline,” he says quickly. “But you know I’m right. Your brother is abdicating his crown, and you should be with him when he does.”