Free The Offering by Kimberly Derting Page A

Zafir, trying not to giggle at the thought of this massive giant of a guard watching over my waif of a sister. Or rather, of her watching and fussing over him.
    â€œYes, Zafir. I think Angelina’s right. I think a snack might do you good.”

    â€œCharlie.” The sound of Brook saying my name sent prickles of foreboding over my skin. My emotions, after seeing Angelina, were far too close to the surface, and I worried that I might somehow give myself and my plans with Eden away if I had to face Brook now.
    I stopped but didn’t turn to her immediately. Instead I gave the new guard, a man who just hours earlier had been temporarily in charge of my sister, the signal to give us some privacy. He didn’t leave us, but he pivoted away, affording us some confidentiality at least.
    If it had been Zafir, I might not have even gotten that much. I had Angelina to thank for that, since she’d insisted on dragging Zafir to the kitchens to find him a biscuit or some sliced fruit, believing it was his empty stomach that made his scowl so ferocious.
    I’d merely winked at him when he’d tried to protest, and had allowed him to be taken hostage by the five-year-old. They’d be fine together, the two of them, and I felt certain I’d made the right decision to entrust her to him.
    â€œLook,” Brook breathed impatiently behind my back. “I get why you’re mad at me,” she said, misreading my reason for not turning toward her. “And I—I probably deserve it. I’ve been . . .” She hesitated again, and I was taken off guard. It was unlike Brook to be so unsure of herself. The Brook I knew was confident and brazen, definitely not prone to stammering.
    I craned my neck to see what had her all twisted up.
    Her dark eyes were clouded, her delicate black brows furrowed into a tight bunch. “I’ve been confused. Ever since . . . well, since my father died .” She frowned even harder when she said the word “died,” as if he’d keeled over from natural causes. As if he hadn’t been murdered by my hand. “It’s not that I loved him, or even that I miss him, exactly. But . . .” Biting her lip, she paused, and I could read every bit of the confusion she’d just professed to.
    I knew all this, of course. Brook’s dad had been the reason she’d had no qualms about taking up with the resistance. He hadn’t made her feel welcome at home, and Xander and his followers had given her a place to fit in. Taking up weapons had given her the opportunity to take out some of her aggression.
    She scowled at me, and I waited for her to say something else. She opened her mouth, more than once, and closed it time and again, as if she were at a loss, as if she wanted to keep going but didn’t know how.
    After a few minutes Brook sighed, straightening her shouldersand clearing her throat, and I realized our brief respite was over. “I have a message ready to go with word for the troops I have positioned near the border of Astonia. I can have them deployed and on their way to Queen Elena’s palace within hours of receiving my command.” She didn’t have to explain the geography again. She’d already spent hours with me and Max and countless ambassadors and generals pouring over the maps, and outlining where her forces were amassed and awaiting her order. I’d been so busy on the communications project that I hadn’t realized how serious she’d been about preparing for war. The very idea that we were so close to setting things into motion terrified me. “All you have to do is give me the go-ahead.” Her dark eyes studied me closely, and I felt myself withering beneath the scrutiny.
    â€œI—I just need more time. To figure things out,” I stammered.
    â€œWhat things ? There’s nothing to think about. Queen Elena has made her intentions clear. We saw what she did to