Red Queen (Red Queen 1)
Page 37“You built it?” I say, incredulous, but he shrugs like it’s nothing. “Wow.”
“Just wait until you ride it,” he says, holding out the helmet to me. As if on cue, the far wall jolts, its metal mechanisms groaning somewhere, and begins to slide away, revealing the dark night beyond.
Laughing, I take a step back from the death machine. “That’s not happening.”
But Cal just smirks and swings one leg over the cycle, sinking down into the seat. The engine rumbles to life beneath him, purring and growling with energy. I can sense the battery deep in the machine, powering it on. It begs to be let loose, to consume the long road between here and home. Home.
“It’s perfectly safe, I promise,” he shouts over the engine. The headlight blazes on, illuminating the dark night beyond. Cal’s red-gold eyes meet mine and he stretches out a hand. “Mare?”
Despite the horrible sinking in my stomach, I slide the helmet onto my head.
I’ve never ridden in an airship, but I know this must feel like flying. Like freedom. Cal’s cycle eats up the familiar road in elegant, arcing curves. He’s a good driver, I’ll give him that. The old road is full of bumps and holes, but he dodges each one with ease, even as my heart rises in my throat. Only when we coast to a stop half a mile from town do I realize I’m holding on to him so tightly he has to pry me off. I feel suddenly cold without his warmth, but I push the thought away.
“Fun, right?” he says, powering down the cycle. My legs and back are already sore from the strange, small seat, but he hops off with an extra spring in his step.
With some difficulty, I slide off as well. My knees wobble a bit, more from the pounding heartbeat still thrumming in my ears, but I think I’m okay.
“Remind me to take you up in an airjet sometime. You’ll stick to cycles after that,” he replies as he rolls the cycle off the road, into the cover of the woods. After throwing a few leafy branches over it, he stands back to admire his handiwork. If I didn’t know exactly where to look, I wouldn’t notice the cycle was there at all.
“You do this a lot, I see.”
Cal turns back to me, one hand in his pocket. “Palaces can get . . . stuffy.”
“And crowded bars, Red bars, aren’t?” I ask, pushing the topic. But he starts walking toward the village, setting a fast pace like he can outrun the question.
“I don’t go out to drink, Mare.”
“So what, you just catch pickpockets and hand out jobs willy-nilly?”
When he stops short and whirls around, I knock into his chest, feeling for a moment the solid weight behind his frame. Then I realize he’s laughing deeply.
“Did you just say willy-nilly?” he says between chuckles.
His smile remains, though the laughter fades away. “I don’t do this for myself,” he says. “You have to understand, Mare. I don’t—I’m going to be king one day. I don’t have the luxury of being selfish.”
“I’d think the king would be the only person with that luxury.”
He shakes his head, his eyes forlorn as they run over me. “I wish that were true.”
Cal’s fist clenches open and closed, and I can almost see the flames on his skin, hot and rising with his anger. But it passes, leaving only an ember of regret in his eyes. When he finally starts walking again, it’s at a more forgiving pace.
“A king should know his people. That’s why I sneak out,” he murmurs. “I do it in the capital too, and at the war front. I like to see how things really are in the kingdom, instead of being told by advisers and diplomats. That’s what a good king would do.”
He acts like he should be ashamed for wanting to be a good leader. Maybe, in the eyes of his father and all those other fools, that’s the way it should be. Strength and power are the words Cal has been raised to know. Not goodness. Not kindness. Not empathy or bravery or equality or anything else that a ruler should strive for.
“And what do you see, Cal?” I ask, gesturing toward the village coming into view between the trees. My heart jumps in my chest, knowing I’m so close.
“I see a world on the edge of a blade. Without balance, it will fall,” he sighs, knowing it’s not the answer I want to hear. “You don’t know how precarious things are, how close this world is to falling back into ruin. My father does everything he can to keep us all safe, and so will I.”
“Changing the world has costs, Mare,” he says. “Many would die, Reds most of all. And in the end, there wouldn’t be victory, not for you. You don’t know the bigger picture.”
“So tell me.” I bristle, hating his words. “Show me the bigger picture.”
“The Lakelands, they’re like us, a monarchy, nobles, a Silver elite to rule the rest. And the Piedmont princes, our own allies, would never back a nation where Reds are equal. Prairie and Tiraxes are the same. Even if Norta changed, the rest of the continent would not let it last. We would be invaded, divided, torn apart. More war, more death.”
I remember Julian’s map, the breadth of the greater world beyond our country. All controlled by Silvers with nowhere for us to turn. “What if you’re wrong? What if Norta is the beginning? The change the others need? You don’t know where freedom leads.”
Cal has no answer for that and we fall into bitter silence. “This is it,” I mutter, stopping under the familiar outline of my house.
My feet are silent on the porch, a far cry from Cal’s heavy, stomping steps that make the wood beams creak. His familiar heat rolls off him, and for a split second I imagine him sending the house up in flames. He senses my unease and puts a warm hand on my shoulder, but that does nothing to settle me.
“I can wait below if you want,” he whispers, taking me by surprise. “We don’t want to chance them recognizing me.”
“They won’t. Even though my brothers served, they probably wouldn’t know you from a bedpost.” Shade would, I thought, but Shade is smart enough to keep his mouth shut. “Besides, you said you want to know what’s not worth fighting for.”