Chapter 47
brYLEE
My fingernails click against my phone case. I’m suddenly nervous, though I can't tell why. From my seat twenty rows back, I glance around the throne room, listen to the buzzing chatter of a hundred or so reporters, and try to analyze which of them has set me off.
Their voices echo in the vast space, pinging off pillars hung with flower wreaths for no apparent reason other than my mother felt like being ostentatious.
None of the reporters has so much as glanced in my direction.
I’m not Ted, so I don’t matter. And my brother’s still in his wing recovering, so they won’t get to see him.
They don’t seem too disappointed by that, though I do hear his name mentioned once or twice. In general, they ignore me, chatting or typing or sliding nicotine pouches into their cheeks in anticipation of a long night writing after this announcement.
So…why am I getting beads of nervous sweat along the back of my hairline?
I glance up, trying to breathe deeply and regain a sense of calm.
The high, round windows lining either side of the room are surrounded by tacky neon lights that I think my grandmother installed in the eighties.
We rarely ever turn them on, but night briefings require them because the chandelier lights are too dim.
One neon ring flickers creepily, pulsing and snapping out bright flecks, buzzing like a bug zapper.
Maybe that's what's throwing me off.
Too many horror movies.
But my intuition won't let go. I start to bounce my foot as I scan the room a second time, reaching out and grabbing Luka's forearm for balance as I spin in my chair to check behind us.
There are only the run-of-the-mill servants refilling tables set with waters and pastry trays, which Colter is currently helping himself to—everyone else giving him such a wide berth in his skull mask that he has an entire table of treats to himself.
Then there are a few guards posted near pillars, their posture lazy, ready to clock out for the day.
Everyone else is calm. Bored, even.
Perhaps I'm just paranoid.
"What's wrong?" Luka asks from his seat beside me, peering up from beneath a pair of reading glasses.
A tablet lights his face because he's opened all the news station tablets so we can track what they say live as the truce is reported.
"I'm not sure." My teeth dig into my lower lip as I try to settle back into my seat, and my eyes fixate on the empty throne.
A big broadcast camera has been rolled up the center of the aisle and will focus directly on Mother when she arrives. Several ring lights and spotlights also cluster around her golden chair, adding to the tacky practicality of royal pronouncements.
The door just behind the throne, off to the right, is where my parents will enter from. Ridge and Kylian stand near it, conversing with a few of my mother's guards as we await the official start of her press conference.
"What if…she doesn't announce the truce?" I whisper to Luka.
His jaw clenches so tightly that I can see it even beneath his thin beard. The glasses come off, and he slides them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket before he turns to me.
"We'll make our own announcement about Harpax Project." His eyes flicker with pleasure at the thought of detonating the room with that news. "Most reporters would give their right arm for a story like that."
"I'd give my right arm for it not to be true."
"Your arm is too precious," he replies, reaching out and grabbing onto my hand.
He brings it to his lips and brushes a gentle kiss over the backs of my knuckles.
"She'd better—" I cut off as both my phone and his tablet buzz in our laps.
Gently tugging out of his hold, I flip my phone over to check the screen.
Luka does the same, swiping at his tablet. "Breaking News: Fire on the east side of the city. Crews are already responding…"
"Yeah, I got that notice too. Sad," I reply, heaving out a sigh.
The door behind the throne opens, and my heart jumps up into my throat, making breathing impossible as two honor guards in formal uniforms with tassels draped across their shoulders proceed out the door and march stiffly toward the throne to flank it.
My father emerges next, his suit crisp, hair touched up by professionals.
He looks solemn, though from this distance, I can't read his micro expressions.
For an instant, I regret not sitting closer, but the guys and I decided that would be too much for my mother to handle.
She'd feel too cornered and want to lash out. Better not to tempt her right now.
I need her to choose this truce because there's one person she cares about in this world...and he's on the verge of rejecting her.
Thank fuck Dad has a heart.
My own chest drums with percussive force as I watch her stride out. She's no longer in the gown she wore to dinner. Now she's in a formal black suit, a golden crown settled on her perfectly arranged hair.
Her red lips curve into a practiced smile as her arms rise wide in welcome.
"Good evening, everyone. I'm so grateful you could carve out a chunk of your evening to be here.
I want to start off with a quick moment of silence for those brave men and women across town helping with that fire.
I heard it just jumped to a second location. "
Everyone bows their head accordingly.
My phone buzzes with an alert less than thirty seconds later. When I glance, it's an update about the fire.
The reporters are already eating out of her palm, racing to get tidbits of the freshest news out first, as if the words will spoil if they sit on them for a single second.
"Tonight, I have a very important announcement. A very tentative, but very important announcement."
Collectively, all the reporters lean forward as if they're a single entity. The entire room holds its breath. As do I.
The next few moments feel endless, like I'm staring up at the sky at a dozen asteroids that might crash down and decimate the city, destroying life, destroying me.
But there's nowhere to run. I can only wait in horrid anticipation to see if they burn up in the atmosphere or if they'll erase my future in a blink.
This announcement is just as life-altering because Mother could keep her bargain, or she could find some way to destroy me.
My stomach kicks wildly as my gaze darts over to my father and then back to her.
What's she going to do?
I honestly don't know.
My mother waits until every eye is locked on her before she speaks again. "We have been at war with the Noths for so long that hatred seems natural. We've all lost someone, and the desire for justice is inevitable."
Her eyes find mine, and my heart locks up, my lungs clenching.
"And we all deserve that justice."
My lips smash together as my hopes tumble.
She's not going to do it.
Questions start to fly from the mouths of reporters as I sit there and stare blankly at her. Empty.
Her hand rises to stave off the shouts of the press.
When they've settled down to grumbling volume, she continues, "But despite what we deserve, at some point, we must attempt to be the bigger person.
To show grace. To look beyond the past and toward the future.
And that's why I'm in very tentative, preliminary talks with the royal family and the president in Nóthos to see if we can devise a path forward toward peace. "
I grab onto my seat cushion and squeeze so that I don't scream in relief and aggravation. In triumph that's mixed with agony because it seems Mom still loves one person in this world. It's just not me.
The reporters soar out of their seats then, questions rapid-fire and intense, the room filling with snapping energy.
Of course she's using this moment as positive PR for herself.
Of course she is.
It doesn't matter, I tell myself. You're getting what you want.
And so, I sit there, simmering as reporters simper over her, throwing softball questions as their fingers fly across their keyboards, manic expressions on their faces that they are "here, witnessing this historic moment."
"You did it, Brylee," Luka whispers to me, pride shining in his eyes.
I manage a small half smile for him, but even though I feel a surge of relief that she actually made the announcement, there are still hairs rising on the back of my neck. My nervous system is still malfunctioning. Still on high alert as if I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I reach up and rub at the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension, when a sound like thunder cracks through the throne room. The entire castle quakes.
I share a startled look with Luka.
"What was that?" I ask breathlessly.
His coffee-colored eyes darken with concern as he drops his tablet and shoves back his chair, standing and looking behind us.
Colter has already bolted through the throne room and thrown open the doors, admitting smoke and the scent of lead.
"Tank!" he yells as he barrels back inside like a linebacker, headed straight toward me.
My stomach plummets to the floor. Disbelief pelts me as the sound of heavy fire roars just past the castle.
How the fuck did a tank get onto the grounds?
I don't have time for more than that singular thought before Colter has scooped me up into his arms as he races through the room.
The castle trembles again, and chairs tumble onto their sides.
The wreaths on the columns fall from their hooks.
The crystals in the chandeliers overhead sway and clink like raindrops as they start to fall—a storm set off by the thundering booms as more rounds hit the building.
Screams echo through the room, though I don’t know if they’re coming from the reporters, my parents, or… me.
"We need to take cover," Luka says.
"No shit," Kylian retorts as he and Ridge join our knot.
But the reporters crowd the exit doors, fleeing even as they hold their phones up to capture every moment.
One round window on the far side of the room shatters, and the stone around it bursts apart into fragments. My heart mimics that explosion as my chest squeezes and splits.