#tyton

“Tyton, was it? Apologies for the wait. I’m a bit overwhelmed at the moment.” I make a show of fumbling for an envelope, stuffing a creased paper inside. “I might need a minute.”

I sign the back with swooping calligraphy, hunched as if to hide the words. He should catch glimpses as I shift, enough to realize the letter is for Queen Cenra of the Lakelands. Let him connect the pieces.

“You summoned me.”

“I did.” I shove the letter in a drawer. “I used to meet with all the newbloods before they were sent to Training, but after a few months that became impossible.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty.” He bows his head. “Why am I here?”

“You’re not in trouble.” I smile with the ease of a boy helping a fellow classmate. “Sometimes I meet newbloods if they catch my eye. I thought it strange how we’ve never had another with your ability.” I chuckle. “Besides my consort, of course.”

Consort. The word melts deliciously on my tongue. I still feel a thrill every time I say it, every time I remember her signature, fierce, bold, and mine.

“Your Majesty?” Tyton jolts me to attention. “You trailed off.”

“Did I?” Mother’s right. I have become smitten. “Apologies. I wanted to ask a few questions.”

The spy runs through his story in excruciating detail, and I nod and interject when necessary. I cough and sniffle with increasing intensity, feigning embarrassment. “My mother-in-law did not inform me she was ill.” I grimace.

His eyes flicker to the drawer, and I pretend not to notice.

“Proceed.” Blah, blah, blah, Piedmont, blah, blah, blah, lightning, blah, blah, blah persecuted. I twitch and fidget as he talks, striking a balance between the lovestruck, impatient boy and the calculating king he is no doubt searching for. I break down in coughs, gritting my teeth.

“Do you need some water?”

“No.” I pat my chest. “I’ll be--” Another coughing fit. “Colors. I need air. Pardon me, I must step outside for a moment.” Cough. “Or two.”

I stagger into the hallway, hacking as I make my way to the courtyard. Certain I am out of earshot, I stop coughing. Now to wait.

Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

That should be enough.

I smooth my hair, retreating back to my seat. “Forgive me. I have been neglecting my health. Where were we?”

Tyton finishes his story within minutes, and I dismiss him. My hand strays to my desk drawer, fishing for a letter that is not there. He stills.

“I could’ve sworn . . . ” I fumble through documents, squinting. “Must have sent it already.”

When I look up, he is gone.

_

“My illness has been growing worse.”

The Skonos sits across from me, perplexed. I am no longer coughing, my forehead cool to the touch. I am a portrait of health.

“I will be bedridden for the rest of the day. The disease I have caught is Lakelander, and by nightfall, I will travel to one of their hospitals. Let none disturb me.”

She nods.

I dismiss her, lingering by the window until the door is closed. The rope stings my hands, but

I have more sense than to cry out. Cal’s cycle waits in the trees. Attached is a bag with a day’s worth of food, a couple thousand tetrarchs, and various items to obscure my identity.

The woods block out most of the light, but I’ve practiced enough to apply the makeup in the dark. A smudge here, a dab there, subtle touches transforming me from Silver to Red. Sunglasses shield my eyes from view. A close inspection might reveal me, but I intend to remain inconspicuous.

Cal rode it. It can’t be that hard to drive.

_

I forgot he built the blasted thing.

The cycle collapses on its side for the umpteenth time, and I curse under my breath. Who looked at a bicycle and thought, Hm, let’s do that, but faster and with worse breaks?

The sun yields to the horizon, sinking below the hill as I near the outskirts of the Rift. Magnetron territory. A pocketed chunk of silent stone shields me from their senses, as does logic. I would be a fool to wander into enemy territory unguarded. I must be unimportant.

It’s a gambit. I am not difficult to overpower. But the reward is worth the risk.

Careful.

Mother whispers all the possible pitfalls I could fall to, outlining plan after plan for how to avoid them. I may complain of her meddling from time to time, but she is the one person who has never abandoned me. Not even in death.

A forest rings the Samos estate, and I dash from tree to tree, eyes peeled for patrolling guards. Their defense is sparse, and I make it several hundred feet before encountering any trouble. A warm glow pulses ahead, punctuated by the scent of smoke.

I flatten, heart racing. There’s silent stone in my pocket. I could be burned.

The fire creeps no closer, and I dare to poke my head. Two shadows interrupt the orange, one bulky, one lithe. Voices drift as I draw closer. “I don’t know what to think. Maybe this was her plan all along, and I was too stupid to figure it out.”

“Beats me, man. I haven’t understood Mare since she fell into that damn arena.” The lanky shadow stretches, yawning. “You Silvers and your mind games.”

“I was never good at them.” The bulky shadow, who can only be Cal, hangs his head. “My strengths always lay on the battlefield, where I know the rules, where everything is impersonal and defined. I’m not here to fuck with people’s emotions.”

“No.” Lanky snorts. “Just their livelihoods.”

They stare at the fire in silence, and the memory rises unbidden. Another war, another fire, another two boys with only the other for comfort.

I squash it down.

Cal turns to Lanky--Kilorn, if I remember Mare correctly--and sighs. “I’m sorry. I know you loved her too, and all I can talk about is how I feel.”

“It’s been months. I’m over it.”

“Wish I could say the same.” Cal shakes his head. “It’d be easier if she would give me a straight answer, but I swear, she expects me to read her mind. All these little clues and signals. It’s exhausting.”

“Tell me about it. Almost makes me miss fishing.” Kilorn tosses a branch into the flames. “It was boring, but at least the fish weren’t plotting conspiracies against me.” He pauses. “That I know of.”

“Slippery little bastards.”

They both laugh.

“I’m over Mare.” Kilorn cups Cal’s cheek. “I think I fell for her because she was there, not because of any deep connection. I mean, it was her or Gisa.” His voice softens. “Not a ton of Silver princes in the Stilts.”

“Silver princes.” Cal’s throat bobs. “You’re talking about Mare, right? Not--”

Kilorn interrupts him with a kiss.

I can’t see his expression from the bushes, and I don’t care to. I’m not invested in Cal’s personal drama beyond what is useful to me.

“If you need me, I’ll be down at the stream.” Kilorn pulls away from a speechless Cal. “There are some devious fish I need to betray.”

He leaves.

“Someone’s got a type.” I emerge from the shadows, lingering on the outskirts. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Cal draws back. “Mavey?”

“That’s not my name.”

He flinches. Good. I need him vulnerable. “We never got a chance to talk at the peace conference. I thought I’d remedy that.”

“What do you want.”

“Manners.” I tsk. “No ‘how are you’? No handshake? That’s no way to treat family. Father would be ashamed.”

Cal hesitates. For a moment, I fear he might call the guards. Instead, he draws closer, enclosing his arms around my frame. Fuck. “Welcome home.”

I stiffen. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Are you alone?”

“Mare’s in danger.”

That catches his attention. “What?”

He’s hooked. Now to reel him in. “The Lakelands took her in order to blackmail me. I don’t have an army to rally against them.” My throat bobs. “You ensured that.”

“Oh.” He pulls away. “You want to borrow mine.”

I snort. “If that was my aim, I’d speak to someone actually in charge. No. I came here because you’re the one person who still cares about her. And much as it pains me to admit, you are . . . “ I study the ground, twitching. “An adequate meat shield.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Do you want me to beg?” I claw at my chest, wobbling, one unsteady breath away from tumbling to the ground. “My allies have turned against me. Mother is dead. The only girl I’ve ever loved is at the mercy of the Lakelands.” A ragged breath. “I’ll kneel if I must.”

A beat passes.

Cal’s gaze strays to a piece of paper, one I hadn’t noticed before. It lays at the foot of the log, thin and crisp, crammed with so many words I almost miss the handwriting. The handwriting of a familiar signature.

Fierce. Bold. Mine.

He tucks it in his coat. “She’s probably fine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Iris seemed to like her. Maybe Mare asked to be “kidnapped” and wants us to mind our own business. And if she didn’t--” He shrugs. “She handled you pretty well. Given her track record, she’s probably running the place by now.”

Are. You. Kidding. Me. “I knew you were an idiot. I didn’t think you were a coward.”

“The last time I tried to save her, she bit my hand.”

“Well.” My voice darkens. “I guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

“No, you aren’t.” Cal hauls me backwards. “In the Lakelands? Alone? That’s a sucide mission. Don’t be stupid.”

“Giving me orders now, are you?”

“You’re not leaving.”

“By all means, Cal.” I sneer. “Call the guards. That’ll lengthen my lifespan.”

His eyes flicker towards the fortress, to the countless people who would warn him what a terrible idea this is. He shakes his head, trudging past the treeline, past the guards, breaking into a run when he sees the damage.

“What have you done to it?” Cal kneels beside his cycle

I scowl. “You should be more concerned what it did to me.”

He doesn’t know about the letter.

The letter Tyton has no doubt opened, no doubt shown to his commanders, no doubt picked apart the final paragraphs.

My mistake last time was broadcasting his execution on live television. Once you have him, dispose of him immediately. A bullet to the head should do the job. We shall display his corpse on screen together.

I trust you will secure him swiftly.

In time for Cal’s mysterious disappearance.