The Reckless Reign (Book 3, The Culled Crown Series)

Chapter 41

Reubinon Palace, Pellarmus.
After the radio transmission.
One week after the attack.

Darragh was in the middle of meeting with the governors of Pellarmus when Britta sent word that she needed to meet with him. When Dellacov returned twenty minutes later without the king, I thought Britta Warwick was going to wage war with her new husband. I think she might have thrown something, might have truly raged, if it hadn't been for my own anxiety.

She stayed calm for me.

Instead of yelling, she'd gotten up and gone after Darragh herself. I'd spent the next ten minutes trying to think through my panic. Nadia and Heidi sat on either side of me with Tavin and Dellacov standing against one wall. I hadn't spoken to any of them. I couldn't muster words. I just kept replaying the message in my head—how frightening my brother had sounded.

How frightened Kace had sounded.

They'd failed.

The mission had failed.

And they were going to die.

There was a rushing in my ears, a dull roaring sound that blocked out almost everything else.

"Who can get there?" Tavin asked. He stood next to Dellacov, his back pressed to the wood paneled walls, his arms crossed over his chest. "That man is right, who can get there in time? If—If things are that bad, if they need—"

Heidi cut him off. "Let's wait and see what Britta and Darragh say. They have the forces. I'm sure..." she glanced at me and then shot Tavin a pointed look, as if she wanted him to agree with her as she said, "I'm sure they have people they can send. They will send someone."

But as I stared at the maps before me, I didn't know if they would. Most of the troops on that map were in the larger cities, far from Varos and the Suri Gap—far from Third Corps and my brothers.

My brothers and Ellora. Ellora, who was pregnant. And Dee. And Carina and her baby. And Teagan and Keeley and Alena. And Fritz. And all the children from the school. And M.O. And all the others who had once been strangers and had somehow become friends.

I stood up, needing to move, needing to do something. I felt like I was going to be sick. I felt like I was going to scream. I'd just walked to the fire place and buried my hand in the ash and logs when the door creaked and someone slipped inside.

Isla caught my eyes. "I came as soon as I heard."

I pulled my hand out of the fire, not even bothering to wipe the soot from my hand as she crossed the room and threw her arms around my shoulders. I nearly wept into her shoulder as I said, "What if they can't get there in time?"

She pulled back from me, not an ounce of uncertainty on her face as she said, "They will." I cursed as I saw the dark strains I'd gotten on her dress, but she shook her head and waved me off. "I don't give a shit about the dress, Benson. You look like you need a drink. Or a cigarette. Both of which I can arrange."

With that, Isla led me back to the table and herded me into my chair. She reached across the table to the abandoned tea service and made me a cup. She added a great deal of sugar, cream, and something else that came from a flask in her pocket, before she slid the cup and saucer across the maps to me.

She offered me a small smile as she said, "It may taste like shit, but it'll take the edge off."

I looked down at the drink as I said, "Shouldn't you be packing for Haniver?"

Isla tapped the edge of the saucer with her fingertip. "Drink up, Benson."

I did as she said, downing the tea before I could really comprehend just how horrific it tasted. Alcohol—the faint warmth that blossomed in my gut confirmed as much. I leaned back in my chair and glanced to the door. Where the hell was Darragh?