Settling on the sofa near him, Amaretta gathered her hope. “Any word on how Colt fares in the southwest?”
Dragging his shoes from the table, Luther carelessly knocked some pamphlets and a book to the floor. Planting his feet, he stared at her in irritation. “Why should I? Colt’s a grown man. He can take care of himself. Kid thinks he can run the country better than me? Let’s see how he does with outlaws and ne’er-do-wells. You should be proud of Jace,” he said, relaxing at last. “He sat beside me today—did well. You know, he’s doubled production at the factory.”
“Of course I’m proud of Jace,” she responded, straightening her skirt, avoiding eye contact. “I’m very glad to see him mature and take on more responsibility. Despite Colt angering you, I still love him just as much as I do Jace.”
“Is that so?” He lifted his brows, wrinkling his forehead under his characteristic sweep of ginger-gold hair. “I want to know how the Verdancians knew we were coming. A trap laid for the ground troops? And the AlgonCree Navy rushing to their rescue? When did Queen Frost have time to secure an ally? This was supposed to be a blitz, a surprise attack.”
Amaretta turned a blank look to her husband and blinked. “I’m sure they have scouts and communication networks, as we do.”
Luther’s expression turned curious. “I thought the Frostlands only had canoes, but one report claims they arrived in twenty-first-century warships that had survived the Reckoning—I mean, the War of Founding.”
With the names of cities, forts, and even the Great and Dreadful War changing regularly, Amaretta imagined it was hard for anyone to keep track—even the man responsible for many of the new names.
“Perhaps they were at sea when the bombs fell,” she suggested.
“Spies,” he growled, twisting his head back and forth as if to relieve a pain. He met her gaze with fire. “It better not be Colt, or you’ll have a funeral to plan. I will not abide a real traitor in the family.”
“Calm yourself, Luther.” She laid a hand on his arm, smiling. “Discussing hypotheticals with Maddox was one thing, but our son would never conspire with the enemy. You know that.”
“Yeah.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes. “When is dinner? It’s been a long day. Oh, and, by the way, I’m giving a speech tomorrow. You’ll be at my side, smiling, looking beautiful. I swear, half the crowd only shows up to seeyou.”
Standing, Amaretta leaned over and kissed his cheek. “The steward said dinner at six-thirty. Long days go hand in hand with the presidency, darling. I’ll stand with you for the speech, as always. Now, I must change clothes while you relax. Shall I ask Jace to join us?”
“Sure.”
Amaretta retired to the bedroom, closed the door, and leaned heavily onto her dresser. Sunlight streamed through the south-facing windows as she peered into the mirror, staring into her own blue eyes—Colt’s eyes too.He hasn’t a clue it was me who warned Queen Frost. He can never know.If it came down to Colt’s life, she’d confess in a heartbeat. She was a mother first, after all.
Chapter twenty-three
Scorched Envy
Tupelo, Verdancia, the day after General Calder’s rescue
General Edgar Garcia sat on someone’s front porch rocker with his feet propped on a stool. A private brushed and scrubbed the mud from his boots. He’d rolled up his sleeves for comfort—a mistake, he realized, the instant a mosquito bit him. The air lay thick and wet against his skin, heavy with the sweet rot of overripe fruit and river mud. This had been one buzzard-glitching disaster of a day.
“That’s enough,” he grumbled to the private.
He gave the boot one last buff before snapping to attention. “Anything else, sir?”
“Find General Schuler and Colonels Finstemayer and Green,” he barked. “Tell them I want a reportnow.”
“Yes, sir.” He snapped a salute and jogged away.
Tupelo was a right nice little town—picket fences and gardens, shops and eateries, churches and entertainment halls. But, like Corinth, it was conspicuously empty. Unlike Corinth, signs of prosperity bloomed everywhere. He’d passed fields of cotton, corn, and soybeans on his way into town. Pecan and peach trees grew wild, cattle grazing fat in open pastures.
They didn’t have time to drive their herds off,so they couldn’t have had too much warning. At least my army will eat well tonight.He had sent his trusted man, Sergeant Blanchard, with three platoons of cooks and supply personnel to butcher and prepare the beef.
Still, they had time to strip everything else of value. Home safes and medicine cabinets—empty. No weapons or electronics remained in abandoned houses. Edgar couldn’t spare the time or manpower to spread out into the surrounding area in search of them. He could still report to President Irons that he’d taken control of the town, even if it was a hollow victory.
A hot-air balloon drifted in from Fort Rustin bearing a letter from the president, scolding him for falling into a trap. “You’d better not disappoint me again. Comprendo?” it read. A knot tightened in his gut at the reply he was forced to send.General Calder, whom we had captured, has escaped with the help of an elite ranger team.At least he assumed that’s what had happened.
His disciplined ranks of soldiers frolicked through Tupelo like men and women on holiday, looting what they could, parading around the streets in civilian hats or clothes they’d found. When he saw a man wearing a cotton dress, dancing with a frilly parasol, he leaped to his feet, yelling furiously, “Soldier! Stop that this instant!”
Edgar stormed toward the fellow. He froze, color draining from his face.
“Give me that!” Edgar snatched the umbrella with one hand and ripped the blue gingham dress clean off him, leaving the soldier in his skivvies. “You’re a disgrace! What’s your name, soldier?”
He blinked and swallowed, mortified that his peers were pointing and laughing. “Uh, Barney. Private Todd Barney. Sorry, sir. I was just havin’ a little fun. You said we could—”