WAR STORM (Red Queen 4// Alternate Version)

Chapter 53

Mare

"Why are we here, Maven?" I ask, swallowing as I look up into the boy king's fiery blue eyes.

He doesn't respond at first, hand on Cal's doorknob. It isn't safe out here, not when more and more of the soldiers have left the palace for patrol at the gates and boarders, despite Davidson's promise of more soldiers searching for them. And certainly not when my only backup is Maven. New Montfort soldiers arrive by the hour, though hardly any of them join the search for Cal, Iris, and Evangeline. Not when thousands of Lakelander troops wait across the blue dome's arch. They're coming in closer, surrounding us, intelligence says.

"I haven't been here since we played half a game of chess," he says, not bothering to answer my question. His bony fingers clamp down onto the fine bronze metal, then lighten up. Why did he bring me here, persuade Davidson that there was something worthwhile to us in Cal's room? So worthwhile that he'd risk us out here, with a lengthy trek through the halls of Whitefire. He wears a pair of manacles and doesn't seem to mind it. 

Tyton left shortly after he brought us to Davidson's rooms, pale as the rest of us. But now he's down in the tunnels with a troop of fifteen Newbloods, looking for the three. I saw the look in his eyes as we walked up the stairs; he wants to murder Cal.The thought turns my stomach over. Tyton isn't a killer, even with that bloody death he gave to Volo on the afternoon of Cal's wedding. I still remember the way in which Volo crumpled over on himself, under the influence of the Electricon's steady brain, how he choked, wide-eyed and incredulous.

Not enough soldiers are working on tracking them down. Several groups patrol the tunnels underneath us, which still stretch far even though the other passages that lead out of the palace and government buildings have been destroyed for days. And the service in the hallways is not next to none; a band must pass by the hallway on minute-wide intervals, always vicious and cunning. They won't find them up here, but they won't risk it.

It still isn't enough.

They're killers. Evangeline's always been a relentless killer, but now with Cal and Iris...

It isn't that Davidson isn't keeping enough soldiers on watch. But I know better than to believe it's enough.

I cast my thoughts far away as Maven twists on the knob, pushing the fine door open.

He doesn't hold it open for me, waltzing in himself, and I have to catch it myself to avoid being hit in the face.

Instead, he speaks again. "It's more cluttered than I remember." The words are supposed to come out as a judgement, I think , but they're relatively quiet as he looks around the room, flicks the light switch on.

It's not much different than his room that I once was in at Summerton, spacious but cramped because of all the junk he kept in here. A large four poster bed rests in the middle, dressed up in thick rich blue blankets, the color of water. The blankets are long, dragging against the floor. A window that covers half the wall is at the other side of the room from the door, revealing the clear night sky. The rest is the same, with books and more books on strategy decorating the desk further into the room. The bookshelves are build into the walls, with so many books they might as well splinter their casing. The floor is made out of the same wood as his door, red carpets laid on top of it.

There isn't any theme to the room, but somehow it seems to make sense, with its dozens of weapons and books... and photographs.

"Where did he get these?" I ask, paging through the photos carelessly set on his desk. Black and white, pictures of Maven, pictures of grand banquets and festivals, pictures of me.