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Chapter Text

"Betrothed to a girl with eyes for another, for the brother, the prince no one could ever ignore.”  His words take on a feral edge, heavy with a wild anger.  But there is a truth in them, a harsh truth I’ve tried so hard to forget.  It makes my skin crawl.  “You took everything that should’ve been mine, Cal.  Everything.”

Suddenly I’m standing, shaking violently, but still standing.  He’s lied to us for so long, but I cannot let him lie now.  “I was never yours, and you were never mine, Maven,” I snarl.  “And not because of him, either.  I thought you were perfect.  I thought you were brave and strong and good.  I thought you were better than him.”

Better than Cal.  Those are words Maven thought no one would ever say.  He flinches, and for a second, I can see the boy I used to know.  A boy that doesn’t exist.

He reaches out a hand, grabbing at me between the bars.  When his fingers close over the bare skin of my wrist, I feel nothing but repulsion.  He holds me tight, like I’m some kind of lifeline.  Something has snapped in him, revealing a desperate child, a pathetic, hopeless thing trying to hold on to his favorite toy.

“I can save you.”

The sound I make barely resembles a laugh.  “You can’t.”

“I am king.”  He grits his teeth.  “You will live if I want you to.  I will ensure it.”

I scoff.  “You’re not omnipotent.  People saw me run from the guards with Cal, saw you chase us through the halls and call us murderers.  How will you explain that?”

“The truth is what I make it.  I could set this world on fire and call it rain.”

“The world burns all the same.  You can’t hide from the consequences of your actions, Maven.  Face it.  I’m going to die, and it’s going to be your fault.”  My voice falls to a hush.  “Live with it.  Or don’t.  It matters little to me.”

Silence, save for the drip of water echoing in the distance.  His grip tightens.  “What will it take?”

“Excuse me?”

“If death isn’t enough . . . “  He draws a breath.  “What will it take for you to choose me?”

Choose me.  I want to hurl the words in his face, tear a jagged wound in his soul and let it bleed onto the floor.  How dare he turn this into another score in his rivalry.

But the words don’t leave my mouth.

This is an opportunity.  I have leverage over him, a chance to ask a favor when there are so many lives at stake.  I take a breath, then stop.

Cal stares at me from the other end of the cell.  I could save him.  I could use this chance to soften his sentence, persuade Maven banishment would be the better option.  It’s the least I could do.

Choose me.

“Leave the newbloods alone."  The words taste of ash, and I can feel Cal staring as I turn away.  “Abandon the list.  Let them live in anonymity and safety."

He frowns.  “Mare--”

“You want my pride?  Then save them.”  I stare him in the eye.  “Prove there’s something in you worth choosing.”

A beat passes.

“Say it.”  Maven clenches his fist so hard he might draw blood.  “Say you’d rather live with me than die with him.  Say that kiss meant nothing to you.  Say he’ll disappear from our lives so we might have a second chance.”

My hands shake.  “Promise you won’t go after them.”

The air is thick, growing colder as he withdraws.  “My word for yours, Mare.”

Three words.  Three simple words, petty and small in the face of the lives they might save.  “I--” Swallow.  “I choose you.”

Maven leans closer.  “Could you repeat that, darling?  I didn’t catch it.”

“I’ve changed my mind.  Please kill me.”

He scowls.  “Arven.”  A guard steps forward, head bowed.  “Release her.”

The door creaks open, and Maven beckons me forward, offers the hand he withheld the last time I asked for it.  I waver.  Anyone can betray anyone.

And I am no exception.

Cal has wedged himself in front of the exit, raising a fist when the Arven tries to nudge him aside.  Maven smirks.  "If you wish to spend the night bruised and bloody, be my guest.  Healers are a luxury we don’t afford to traitors.”

“Are you done?” I hiss.  His fingers are cold as the rest of him, growing no warmer as I curl them between mine.  He stills, gaze shifting, smirk lost to some flicker of romantic desire.

For a moment, I fear he might kiss me.

"Yes."  He lets go.  "We are."  A wave of his hand slams the door shut, barely glancing behind as he strides down the hall.  "Come."

My new cell is on the other side of the dungeons, still silent stone, but more spacious, lined with soft carpet instead of stone floor.  Maven ushers me inside.  “Wait here.”  

“Am I still a prisoner?”  The rusty bar chafes against my palm.  “You don’t have to lie.”  

He twitches.  “I need to tell Mother.”  

“She doesn’t know?”  

“Not yet.”  He won’t look at me.  “She might take some persuading.”  

“I’m dead.”   I hold my face in my hands.  “It was horrific to know you.”  

“You will live.  It’s a question of how much she’s willing to indulge me.  Of whether you’ll be my prisoner--”  He softens.  “Or my queen.”  

My queen.  The words twist and ache with implication, with promises he can’t possibly fulfill.  “There’s a difference?”  

Maven steels, clutching the bars.  “Cooperate, and I might convince her to leave your mind untouched.”  There’s a desperation underlying the words, one I don’t understand.  “You may be monitored rather than silenced.”   

“I can’t cooperate if I don’t know your plan.”  I yawn.  “Though if you think she’ll agree, you’re delusional.”  

He doesn’t respond, disappearing down the hall and abandoning me to the darkness.  Cal’s eyes burn back at me.  I couldn’t have saved him.  Couldn’t have chanced the insult while Maven had the upper hand.  And yet . . .  

No.  What’s done is done.   And Maven’s right.  If Elara decides I’m not worth the risk, this will be for nothing.  

I curl against the wall.  She’ll expect to see a broken little girl, one desperate enough to stake everything on a boy she barely knows.  Who would bother inspecting someone so pathetic?  

The emotions are easy to summon.  After everything, the betrayals, the guilt, the hopes dashed against concrete, it is easy to wrap my mind in a cocoon of fear and grief.  The Scarlet Guard shattered.  Cal in chains.  Was it any wonder I’d latched onto the first hand I’d been offered?  

Tears prickle my eyes as footsteps echo in the halls.  Maven stops in front of the bars as if to shield me.  “The footage--”  

“Isn’t enough.”  Elara is several inches shorter than her son, but she still manages to tower over him.  “We need a motive, a narrative to soothe any suspicions the rest of court might have.  Cal was a decorated general with a reputation for honesty.  There are those who will have questions.”  

Maven goes quiet.  His fingers brush the edges of my cell, a gesture of comfort I refuse to accept.  “True.  But there are . . . unique advantages to keeping her.  Ones you might not have considered.”  

Elara raises a brow.  “I highly doubt that.”  

His next words are grave, measured.  “The Scarlet Guard has been eradicated, yes.”  A step forward.  “But their effects haven’t.  They have proven there are ways to rattle us, laid the groundwork for others to try again.”  

She scoffs.  "I wasn’t aware we lived in fear of mice."  

"Mice who outnumber us, Mother."  A shaky breath gives way to steel.  "We may be strong, but we are few.  How many blows would it take for the first house to fall?"  

"That won't happen.”  She studies her nails.  “Not if we strike back a thousandfold, make their families pay for their folly, remind them there are consequences to angering gods.”  

“Consequences the most dangerous will ignore.”  Maven shakes his head.  “It’s not the sensible I worry of, but the reckless, those who take fear not as a warning, but a challenge.  Who might be simpler to placate than crush.”  He gestures to me.  “You were right to make her a symbol.”  It grows hard to breathe.  “Why not try again?”  

“Hmm.”  Elara rakes across my form, and my eyes squeeze shut.  The bridge.  Maven’s betrayal.  The king’s head rolling on the floor.  “Samos will be displeased.”  

He waves a hand.  “Yes.  But they have little to gain and everything to lose by standing against us.”  He shrugs.  “There are other positions for Evangeline.”  

A beat passes.  

She draws back, sneering in my direction.  “Let’s not discuss this in front of prying eyes.”  

Maven hesitates, gaze drifting to me.  I should return it, let my eyes mist with yearning as my heart remains stone.  Weaponize his hopes as he did to mine.  But I cannot bring my limbs to obey, and so he leaves.  

The walls close in, squeezing my lungs as I collapse to the floor.  Walsh’s voice rings in my ears.  I hope you become queen.  

Somehow, I don’t think this is what she meant.

Chapter Text

Jon

In the darkness, something stirs.

A tug of string, a snap of thread, fate unspooling and respooling in new form.  Plans carefully ironed now bursting with wrinkles.  An old man pushed into the sea for nothing.

Candlewax drips onto my palm and I hiss.  No matter how I obsess over what is to come, I will always be trapped by the indignity of the present.  My body broken by ceaseless labor, eyes swollen from sleepless nights.  But I will not die.  Not yet.  Something out there bids my chest to beat, a god who will pump worthless life into my limbs so long as my duties go unfinished.

A god.  I almost laugh.

Instead, I choke.

Perhaps that is what I am.  Meddling from afar, weighing the misery of one against the good of all.  A man my age should have a wife and kids, someone to grieve for their Choke-strewn ashes.

I was too good for that.  The years I might’ve spent romancing a sweetheart were consumed by sprawling parchment, burnt and made anew with every attempt at theft.  Not that there were many.  My work was deemed the ravings of a madman, neighbors encouraged to keep their distance lest I infect them.  I became sharp, eagle eyed, a hermit who scorned all and bowed to none.  A tragic existence.  But a necessary one.

Another droplet, more searing than the last.  I had no choice.  The world needed me.  But sometimes I allow myself to regret, to trace the lines of a future long gone, to reminisce of Beatrix and our two sons.  Of morning kisses and nighttime laughter, of the rancid thoughts pooling in each stray pocket of silence.  A dynasty preserved, a people chained, all for the selfish joy of a man too racked with guilt to savor it.  A man who clawed his skin to hash marks and bit his nails until they bled.

He hanged himself, in the end.

No, there is no happiness for my ilk.  Nor is there glory.  My sacrifices will not live beyond me, the paths averted known to none but myself.  I will be lucky to scrape a footnote in the history books.

It’s better this way.

A third drop trickles my knuckles, and I curse.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  There was a chance, true, but a slim one.  Mare Barrow has never been one for compromise.

It was the boy, however, who truly caused the ripple.  Nuisances, both of them.  I ought to leave them to their fate, let them choke on their own hubris as I cackle in the shadows.  But that is not a nationfeller’s choice to make.

It will be risky.  I must walk a fine line, leaving trail enough to keep her searching without falling into her grasp.  Should I falter, she will squeeze my ability to its limit, unlock futures worse than any natural chain of events.  But she’d shred her mind to ribbons were I to remain idle, shattering any hope of instability with it.

I can make it by sunrise if I hurry.  In time to catch the attention of a lesser Merandus: one too young to force my limbs in place, to catch more than a glimpse inside my skull.

But a glimpse is all she needs.

Another family would’ve called her a liar, dismissed her claims as cries for attention.  Merandus, however, is not so foolish.  They know what lies in her brain.  They know what curries favor with the queen.  And they are too selfish to consider me bait, to wonder how a man so abilitied could’ve missed this outcome.

My old plans flutter atop my desk, and I pause to mourn.  No longer will I foretell her rise on my mountaintop, confound court with my counsel and wield their rebellion. Those futures are dead.

They deserve a funeral.

I bow my head as flames lick the parchment to ash.  "Farewell, little lightning girl."  The candle flickers out with a hiss.  "You have become our red ruse."

Chapter Text

Mare

My room has become a prison.

Arvens stand at the entrance, parting only for Maven and his mother.  My old maids have disappeared, replaced with the downcast eyes and silent service of reds who know to help me would spell their doom.

Elara makes sure to feed me images of what might happen should I ask.  Their bodies splayed on the marble floor, ears bleeding as screams echo in the distance.  She visits me daily, a vice tightening inside my skull long after she’s left.

She wants me to know.  To feel her abilities tearing through me, shredding my defenses and leaving me drained.  She is my master.

And I am her toy.

The door creaks open, and I flinch.  But instead of blonde hair and whispered threats, ragged nails nudge tea into my own.  I blink.  “What--”

“Chamomile.”  Maven adjusts his chair.  “It helps with . . . headaches.”

Silence.

This is the man I agreed to marry.  The one who hasn’t visited me since, either from shame or Elara’s order.  Does he regret saving me?

“You missed the coronation."  His tone is even, unflinching.  “As well as the funeral.”

“Was there a difference?”

A breath, swallowed into clenched fists.  “It’s difficult, I know.”

“You know nothing.”  It takes all I have not to spit in his face.  "Save the lies for your subjects.”

Maven doesn’t flinch.  “Perhaps.”  An admission, so soft I might mistake it for kindness.  “But I may know more than you think.”

Chuckling hurts.  “I doubt that.”

He nudges the cup into my hands.  “You sound hoarse.”

The ceramic, once burning, cools to warmth with a swipe of his fingers.  I could ruin his coat with a swipe of mine.  “You look like death.”

It’s not a lie.  His voice may be smooth, but his body has grown ragged, an ink sketch left to dry in the rain.  If I reached, I could trace the new bruises under his eyes.  Press a nail until silver drips onto the floor.

He sighs.  “I don’t expect you to trust me.”

“Good.”  My snarl sounds like a sob.  “What do you want?”

“Unimportant.”  Maven has the audacity to smile.  “Would you like anything?”

My mouth parts, but finds no sound.  No word for the void he's carved within me, the absence I refuse to accept as my own.  I shake my head.  “Nothing you’re willing to give.”

He softens.  "Not if you don't ask for it.”

My hand moves as if to hold his, brushing away at the last second.  He stills.  His fingers curl with absence, with want he hasn’t courage to voice.  Whatever distance he put between us, it wasn’t enough to temper my effect on him.

I stare him in the eye.  "You can start by letting me out of this room."

Sigh.  "That's Mother’s call, I’m afraid.”  He looks off to some point in the distance, one I can’t see no matter how I squint.  “But she’s warming up to you."

I scoff.

"There’s a ball this evening.  You should attend.”  Maven tilts his head, fingers rattling against the table.  “No explosions this time, I promise.”

“I'll have to make my own, then.”  My heart pounds as he laughs, a knife twirling on its edge.  “Will Elara be there?”

“Yes.”  He grows quiet.  “But I asked to escort you.”

“In chains?”

“On my arm.”

A promise, so distant I’d nearly forgotten, re-emerges with horrifying clarity.  “I–”  My hands shake.  “I won’t be your symbol.”

“Mare.”

“I’ll break the cameras.  I’ll kill the guards.  I’ll–”

“That won’t be necessary.”  His voice grows pained.  “I put it off as long as I could, but–”  A breath.  “Mother’s right.  We can’t afford to anger Samos.”

It takes a moment to register.  Of course.  Elara would never allow him a decision so grand, not when her own throne hangs in the balance.  I beat my disappointment back with a crowbar.  “I’m surprised she hasn’t forged a crown from my bones.”

He sighs, rising from his chair as though I were a settled matter.  A settled matter that grabs his wrist before he can leave, forces his gaze to mine without the safety of distance.  “Maven.”  A whisper, soft as a ghost.  “You told me I’d either be a prisoner or a queen.”

His mouth parts, settling in a grim line.  “You said it didn’t matter.”

“Does it?”

He turns away.  “You’re mine either way.”

“But you’ll always be Elara’s.”  My voice wields daggers.  “Prisoner or king.”

Maven pauses.  He doesn’t turn back.  He doesn’t say a word.  Denies fate for a moment of stillness, before continuing on his path.

As for mine . . . 

The tea lays cold at my bedside, untouched despite my throat aching for relief.  It’s not medicine.  Not a cure.  A hasty solution to distract from the problems at hand.  One I pair with a note for when he collects the remains:

My head still hurts. 

Find better tea.

Chapter Text

Mare

I hate black.  It’s the color Dad’s leg turned from years of rot, of boxes in the mail that spilled ash if handled too harshly.  Our mourning clothes were same as the rest.  No one had the money for anything else.

A laugh stiffens me, draws my head to a cluster of nobles sipping champagne.  Their house colors have muted themselves to accents, an earring here, a medal there, pageantry prevailing above all else.  None knew the king, I’m certain.  His loss is gossip, a shakeup to an otherwise unbothered existence.

“Sonya!”  Atara tips her glass at a dangerous angle.  “Don’t you look magnificent!”

She’s not wrong.  Sonya has polished her grief like a blade, black satin rippling with gems at the waist.  Red is as much Iral as blue, but the latter is far more prominent, encircling the scarlet like a luxury noose.  The color of Merandus.  Clever.  “You flatter me, Viper.”

“You earned it.”  A cackle, followed by a sip.  “Have you seen the walking vulture?”  She gestures to Evangeline, clad in black blades so serrated they resemble feathers.  “No subtlety, I swear.”

“Evangeline has always had a flair for the dramatic.”  Sonya chuckles.  “You should’ve seen the fit she threw last week.”  Her eyes find mine.  “Lady Titanos missed it.  A shame.”  Oh no.  “We have her to thank for it, afterall.”

“Me?"  I attempt a laugh and end with a squeak.  “Surely not.”

“She emerges at last.”  Atara tosses back another flute and chokes.  “You were–”  Cough.  “Gone so long we–”  Sonya pats her back a bit harder than necessary.  “Assumed you were dead.”

“I was grieving.”  

“Hmm?”  Sonya raises a brow.  “I heard you were ill.”

Beside her, Atara adjusts the luna moth nestled in her hair.  Vipers, Lady Blonos echoes from the grave.  Do not talk to animals.  They command them.  They use their senses to reach past our human limits, collect information for the Crown as Iral does.

My heart pounds.  “Ill with grief.”

“Ah.”  Sonya plucks Atara’s glass from her hand, pressing it into mine.  “I would be ill too.  That girl–She looked just like you.”

It shatters.

A few nobles turn their heads, and my cheeks burn.  “Pardon?”

“In the arena.”  Sonya gestures for some Reds to pick up the shards.  “Tiberias escaped, unfortunately, but Evangeline managed to skewer her on a pipe.  Too quick an end, if you ask me.”

My head spins.  “He–” I swallow Maven’s name before it can choke me.  “Escaped?”

Atara grabs a new flute and glares at Sonya.  “Oh, don’t you start.  It’s bad enough I gotta listen to Evangeline.  I don’t need you mourning her terrible aim too.”

Sonya chuckles.  “Did I poke a sore spot?”

“I’m sorry.”  My eyes can’t tear away from the floor tiles.  “I must’ve missed something.  It’s been hectic, I–”  Words fail me.  “Who is this girl?”

Sonya presses Atara’s glass into my palm.  “The one from the footage.”

“What footage?”

Atara scowls.  “From the trial.  Duh.”

“Did you know her?”  Sonya slides her chair closer to mine.  “Her face was blurred, of course, but you’re more familiar with Reds than I am.”

“I–”  Can’t breathe.  “Don’t understand.  Which–”

Atara rolls her eyes.  “The one who seduced Tiberias.”

The air chills before I’m forced to respond, neck prickling with the brush of his hand against my shoulder.  “A tragedy.”  Maven sighs.  “As life often is.”

I can’t tell if I want to kiss or choke him.

Sonya purses her lips.  “Your Majesty–”  Atara takes the opportunity to steal her glass.  “What brings you here?”

“I heard something shatter.”  He pulls up a chair, and I’m reminded of when we’d band together in Training.  Him and me against the world.  All of it, lies.  “Are you alright?”

Atara huffs.  “I’m fine.”  She sips the rest of Sonya’s champagne.  “Do we have to call you ‘Your Majesty’ now?”

“Yes.”  Maven reaches for my wrist.  “May I have this dance?”

My hand balls into a fist beneath the napkin.  “No.”

He frowns.  “I insist.”

Atara’s moth flutters from her hair to mine.  “We were having a lovely chat.”

“Atara, darling.”  His fingers pinch in my curls, tiny legs kicking in protest.  “Learn to share.”

Sonya cuts her off before she can retort.  “It’s alright.”  There’s a knife beneath the napkin, and my fingers curl around it.  “Be sure to return her when you’re done.”

“I can return myself, thank you.”

“Perhaps.”  Maven chuckles, quickly sobering when he sees my face.  On instinct, I slip the knife into my pocket.  His hand is warmer than it was in the dungeons, but I still shiver when it rests at my waist.  “We may take longer than you expect.”

She has no counter.

The waltz is a simple one, especially with Maven leading me.  It should be easy to step in time to the music, to avoid his toes as we spin about the ballroom.

Too quick an end, if you ask me.

“I’m sorry,” Maven whispers, and I jolt.  We’ve drifted from one end of the floor to the other, right next to the open air of the balcony.  “I should’ve realized you were an easy target for interrogation.”

“Why, so I could defend you?”

His grip loosens.  “You don’t have to pretend to love me.”

I tear away from him, appearance be damned, and snarl.  “That girl.”  Tears bleed from my eyes, stupid, stupid tears he hasn’t earned the right to glimpse.  “Who was she?”

He sighs.  “Mare–”

I’ve heard enough.  Enough to reach not for his hand, but the door, to cling to the balcony like it could ward off the truth. Below me, the palace steps gleam with fresh rain, a flowered vine streaking pollen onto my gloves.

Something brushes my sleeve, and I growl.  “Don’t touch me.”

A beat passes.

Maven stands beside me, skin glowing in the moonlight.  At night, he’s more of a ghost than ever, eyes solemn as he leans to whisper in my ear.  “Would you rather it were you?”

I know the right answer, the brave answer, the one the hero makes in the storybook.  The answer that should ring true in my bones, strike deep into his heart until he aches as I do.

But I can’t bring myself to lie anymore.

“You’re still alive.”  Maven’s hand drifts to mine, and I find myself gripping it as if it might shatter.  “Make it worth it.”

For a moment, our eyes meet.

Then he turns around, leaving me alone in the autumn chill.  Alone, but for the Reds inside, clamoring to pour glasses for nobles that will never thank them.  Were it not for a slip over the railing, I might’ve been among them.

Maven said that Thomas was a fabrication.  That any feelings he’d claimed for him were a lie.  Were they true, could he have used that girl as he did?

It’s a question without an answer.  One I ponder as I take my seat at the table, directly across Evangeline’s empty seat.  Murmurs ripple through the crowd.  She must plan on making a dramatic entrance.

The cameras hum with life, crackling as Maven reaches for my hand.  Choose me, he’d begged.  Say you’d rather live with me than die with him.

I’d told him to prove there was something in him worth saving.  Worth more than a promise he never intended on keeping.  More than the hand reaching into my pocket.  More than the knife slashing deep into my shoulder.

More than the table dripping with hot, red blood.

Chapter Text

Mare

A Skonos rushes to my side, but the damage is done.  The knife clatters to the ground in silence, all eyes on the gash still dripping red blood.  The cameras click off, but I turn them back on.  May all of Norta know.

May Maven pay the price.

You will pay first, Little Lightning Girl.

Elara’s eyes pierce my skull, and for a few moments, I forget how to breathe.  Stupid.  I’m a stupid, stupid girl who’s doomed every newblood on that list.

“What is the meaning of this?”  Lord Volo has abandoned his chair, shoving the Skonos aside to inspect my shoulder.  “Have you scorned my daughter for a red rat?”

Maven steps in front of me, brushing him off.  “You misunderstand.  There are no rats at this table.  Mareena is abilitied as any Silver, and no scratch can change that.”

An uproar ripples through the crowd, and I find myself edging closer to him.  He said I didn’t have to pretend to love him.  That might have been a lie.

“You don’t deny it.”  Volo glares at us both.  “You’ve been lying to us for months, and would’ve continued to lie far longer.  What is she?”

“Something we don’t yet know.”  Maven’s voice is grave, a warning.  “Patience, Lord Volo.  The hasty eater chokes on his meal.”

Around us, nobles murmur and shift, torn between siding with the new king or chancing an upstart with Volo.  They’ll tear each other apart

Perhaps this wasn’t a mistake after all.

“Forgive my impudence, Your Majesty.”  Lord Iral’s voice holds no shame.  “But what does this mean for House Titanos?  Is she an imposter, or merely an . . . abnormality?”  His nose wrinkles.  “Red blood pouring from a Silver line?”

“No.”  My voice startles me, a rasp more suited to a witch than a queen.  “I’m not your long lost aristocrat.  I’m not some jewel raised in mud you get to scrub away and never mention again.  I--”

“That’s enough.”  Maven frowns, fingers one twitch away from snapping.  “My apologies, Lord Iral, but your questions must wait.”  He sighs.   “Answers will come in the morning.  For now, we ought rest.”

“A brilliant idea.”  Elara’s eyes return with a vengeance as she squeezes my shoulder. "Come, Lady Titanos.  You must feel quite unwell.”

The cameras no longer pulse, my ability silenced.  My mouth refuses to open.  Refuses to object when her hand clasps around my arm.  Refuses to cry out as she drags me to my chambers, nails digging to the point of blood.

“You made this wound yourself.”  Her voice echoes in the hall.  “Do not expect us to heal it.”

I scream.

No one listens.  No one dares to defy Elara’s orders.  No one ensures I haven’t ruined what little I bargained for.  I might as well not exist.

Then an arm wrenches me to a coal black stare and furrowed brows, to Evangeline studying my shoulder with rapt intensity.  "So it's true.”  Her grip tightens.  “You bleed red.”

I pry her off, raking nails across my palm instead of her face.  "Barging into my chambers, are we?  Blonos must be rolling in her grave.”

Her eyes narrow.  “Mareena, if that’s even your name–”

“It isn’t.”  The words rush out, a truth I cling to as all else crumbles.  “My name is Mare Barrow.”

Evangeline pauses.  Her gown has reshaped itself to armor, clinging to her skin as if anyone would dare attack her.  Strength and power, I’m learning, are easy to threaten.  Easily shaken by those who fight back.  “Mare.”  She makes it sharp as an insult.  “He called you that.  Said it was a nickname.”

“A private joke.”  From a man who must hate me, no matter my reasons.  No matter the crimes he himself has committed.  “A bit reckless in hindsight.”

“He knew.”

“They all did.”  Secrets slip to the floor and shatter, a vase I’ve always yearned to break.  “Calores lie as they breathe.  Especially to their brides.”

She laughs.  “Did you think otherwise?”

It cuts deeper than it should.

Evangeline studies my expression, squinting as I turn away.  "You did, didn't you?"

"Mind your own business."

“Everything is.”  She waves a hand.  “You’ll drown if you take him on your own.”

“Is that an offer?”

She sniffs.  “You wish.”

My hand is caked in blood, flaking as I haul myself upright.  An injury like this would’ve cost my family hundreds of tetrarchs to heal, weeks of pickpocketing better portioned to food.  I’ve no idea where they are now.  No idea if Elara will unleash her anger on them.  “You weren’t at the banquet.”

Evangeline pauses.  “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“What were you doing? Must’ve been important.”

“Focus on yourself.”  She gestures to my shoulder with a scoff.  “Go to a healer already.  You’re ruining the floor.”

Nails dig into my palm.  “I can’t.”

That catches her attention.  “What do you mean, ‘can’t’?”

“Go ask Elara.  It’ll end well, I promise.”

“Hmm.”  She studies her nails.  “I suppose you’ll have to tough it out.”

I grit my teeth.  “Always have.”

“That remains to be seen.”  Her gaze softens.  “Go cry to Maven; I’m sure he’ll get you some medicine.”

My blood turns to ice.  “I’d rather die.”

She chuckles.  “That can be arranged.”

“Why are you still here?”  My shoulder burns as I almost spit at her, another trickle of blood flowing past my palm.  I should have bandaged it already.  Would have, if I were in the Stilts.  “Whatever you want, I don’t have it.”

“I go where I will, Little Lightning Girl.”  The blades of her armor shift, flowing to a ball gown once more.  “What was your name again?”

What should’ve been an insult gives me the strength to rise.  “Barrow.  Mare Barrow.”

“Hmm.”  She leans against the doorframe.  “I’ll call you that next time we duel.”

Chapter Text

Maven

Mother is not amused.

“I warned you this would happen.”  She drags me into her chambers by the ear, storming past befuddled sentinels and snickering nobles.  “You’ve let a snake into your bed.”

My cheeks burn.  To look powerful is to be powerful.  How angry must she be to forget?

“Snakes can be charmed.”  I ruffle my hair.  “She may be a nuisance now, but a few sweet words, and she’ll soften her resistance.  I fooled her once.  I can fool her again.”

“Or she could fool you.”  Mother sharpens.  “You’re smitten enough as it is.”

Our dance flickers in my mind, my hand at her waist as I led her around the ballroom.  It was a practical move, one that prevented Sonya from coaxing a confession of her.  “We can’t execute her.  All of court saw her display.”

“Yes.”  She scowls, gesturing to a nearby screen.  “And they weren’t the only ones.”

The image is hazy with smoke, clarifying to buildings and crowds massing between them.  A gunshot rings out, and they disperse, only for a man to urge them to stand their ground.  Sentinels swarm to remove him.

They do not succeed.

Vines curl from the pavement, binding feet to the ground or tossing them in the air.  The image stills.  “There’s another,” she sneers.  “Multiplying like rabbits.”

“That makes three.”  My chest rises and falls with undignified rapidity.  “We can’t ignore them any longer.”

“Correct.”  She tosses the remote aside.  “They must be dealt with immediately.”

“Let’s not be hasty.”  I do my best to keep my tone even, eyes focused and unflinching.  “There are so many factors–”

“Maven.”  There’s no fooling a mind-reader.  “Look at me.”

Steel yourself.  Dig your heels, square your shoulders, and meet her eyes.  Dawdling will only make things worse.

“You are young.  You have much to learn about thrones and how to keep them.”  Her fingers brush along my jaw, somewhere between caress and chokehold.  “There will always be sacrifices.”

“I know.”  Pain makes you strong.  “But--”

She shushes me.  “We do what must be done.  As we always have.”

Images flood my brain, memories of stories told long ago.  Of silvers of legend breaking free of chains, hunted by those who feared their might.  They did it before.

They’ll do it again.

I draw a breath, clear thoughts too vivid to be the result of natural recall.  “At the dawn of our age.”  Pause.  “Perhaps we are at another.”

Scoff.

“I’m serious.  These reds have greater strength than their silver equivalents.”  I gesture to the screen again, at the seedless concrete no Greenwarden should’ve broken.  “We can't have them turning to the Scarlet Guard.”

Her lip curls.  “What do you propose?  That we make lords and ladies out of swine?”

“Not lords.”  I force a chuckle.  “There are new roles we can carve for them.  Give them something to lose by standing against us.”

There are moments I’ve yearned for Mother’s ability, to be freed from the whims of her silence and contemplation.  She clucks her tongue.  “Risky.”

“Riskier than giving them more reasons to hate us?”

A beat passes.

“I can make her love you.”  Mother takes my hand.  “I can rot her memories of Cal, sweeten that of yours, erase all admiration for the Guard and its cause.  We’ll never worry for her loyalties again.”

My hands shake.  

It makes no sense, this sickness rising in my throat and prickling at my eyes.  A sensible man would take her offer, understand it to be simple and painless.  After all, she’s done it to me so many times.

“I’ll make her behave, I promise.  I’d--”  A breath.  “I’d rather you didn’t break her.”

The words hang in the air, raw and terrifying.  She might press further.  She might demand to know what I mean by “break”, why I would defy her when it never ends well.

“Very well.”  She exhales, as do I.  “You may try this . . . experiment of yours, once I’ve captured a Newblood who can tell me how it ends.”  Mother stands, and I almost flinch.  “Don’t get too invested, son.”  A rare smile.  “You hold half of my heart, after all.”

Guilt shreds my insides as I smile back.  “And you hold half of mine.”

She kisses my forehead, gives me one last hug before the Queen takes over.  My chambers are empty, as usual, until the door creaks and I find no one there.  No one rustling my curtains to hide something behind them.  No one leaving a handwritten note atop a tin of paste.

Medicine.  She’ll appreciate it.

My fists clench.  This can’t continue.  I can’t keep letting her destroy herself and everything we’ve worked for.  If she grows to hate me, so be it.

It’s the only choice we have.

Chapter Text

Mare

My shoulder screams when I wake.  The feeble dressing I managed to scrape on it has decayed to dust, seeping onto the sheets below.

You made this wound yourself.

A toss of sheets and a clatter of metal brings me to my bedside, to a tin filled with green paste and the stench of medicine.  Elara said no healer.  I suppose he technically obeyed.

“Are you there?”  The words are feeble, and I swallow.  “I hope not.  You murdered for that crown.  I would hate to see it go to waste.”

For a moment, nothing happens.  But sure enough, footsteps approach my bedside, followed by the boy attached to them.  “I didn’t trust a servant to bring it.”

I eye the hand he lays across my bed, but it moves no closer.  “Convenient.”

“Do you need help?”  He gestures to the tin.  “I’m sure it’s difficult to move.”

“I can do it myself,” I hiss.

“You sure?”

“Drop the act.”  My mouth sours.  “Fetch me a washcloth, will you?”

He chuckles.  “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Washcloth.  Now.”

Maven obeys, fetching a bowl of water as well.  He frowns.  “You don’t want the ointment?”

I flick water onto his coat.  “Have you never cleaned a wound before?”

Something flickers, a weakness so brief I might’ve imagined it.  Maven clears his throat.  “Did you sleep well?”

“No.”  I pull the washcloth from the bowl, wincing.  “Your mother’s warming up to me, alright.  Nearly lit me on fire.”

For once he doesn’t laugh.  He stares into the distance, hands cold, barely breathing as his gaze returns to my shoulder.  “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“You know what I mean,” he snaps, nearly tipping the bowl over.  “This isn’t sustainable.”

Shrug.  “That’s the point.”

His fists curl.  “Don’t you want to live?”

“This isn’t about me.”  I force myself upright, pain be damned.  “It’s about the truth.”

A hollow laugh.  “What about the newbloods, huh?  Is the truth more important than them?”

I falter.  “She’ll hunt them anyway.”  My mouth curdles, on the verge of nausea as I look him in the eye.  “I never should’ve believed you.”

The bowl clatters to the ground.

Maven catches his breath, eyes flickering from me to the water seeping beneath us.  “I’ll get a towel.”

Blood seeps down my arm.  “Don’t leave.”

“Never.”  The washcloth stings as he presses it to my shoulder, closing the distance between us to whispers of scandal.  “I won’t let you burn.”

“Even if I asked to?”

He withdraws, reaching beneath my bed to pull out a box.  “There’s something else I need to give you.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”  Fabric tumbles onto my lap, a silken pool of black peppered with scarlet.  I frown.  “What’s this?”

Maven grins.  “Proof you were right to believe in me.”

My eyes grow wide as he elaborates, hands shaking as he explains my new role in his game.  Elara’s game.  Cal’s game.  A game too vast to be controlled by any one person.

“Mare.”

Look into his eyes.  Let him brush the hair out of yours.  And, in a breathless whisper: “How much of it was real?”

Two can play at this game.

He cups my cheek with a lie a stupider girl might believe.  “More than you think.”

Our breaths grow ragged, bleeding together in naked desperation.  His lips press to mine.  My hands find his hair.  Together, we stumble against the wall and trip back onto the bed, upon which he laughs and it’s not real, none of this is real, and yet . . . 

I slam a fist into the pillow.

Feathers float through the air like particles of ash, an active volcano of silk and fury.  The casing tears with a violent rip, bone white fluff coating my hands.  I can’t stop.

“Mare--”

“Damn you,” I choke, throwing the remains at his face.  “You’re such a liar.”

Maven picks feathers from his hair in silence.  “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

My fists curl.  “Have you ever tried?”

The last feather rests in his hand, one flutter from joining the others on the ground.  “I did.”  A whisper.  “But I wasn’t very good at it.”

I grit my teeth.  “Try harder.”

“I’ve cleaned wounds before.  When I was at the front.”  The feather falls off his palm.  “Wasn’t good at that either.”

My shoulder burns as I reach for the ointment.  “You can learn.”

Maven looks away.  “Get dressed.  We’ll be making an announcement at breakfast.”

Chapter Text

Evangeline

I should be furious.

Father certainly is.  He hasn’t stopped shouting since we were forced to leave, railing at anyone within earshot.  Ask him to stop, and he’d only rant harder.

Mother knows better how to hold her temper.  Her snakes curl around her seat to hiss at passing servants, so starved for mice they might settle for human flesh.  Opposite me, Tolly nods, the closest he can get to a sign of solidarity.

“This is preposterous.”  Father slams his fist against the table.  “In the middle of the engagement, of all times!”

Mother clucks her tongue.  “It is certainly . . . unfortunate.”

“As has been established,” Tolly mutters.

I chuckle, and Mother gives me a severe look.  “This is no laughing matter.  He spent weeks engaged to that Titanos girl, and just as he was about to end it, she throws court into chaos.”  Hisses fill the air.  “You have a Coriane on your hands.”

I stiffen.

“A schemer.  A seductress.”  Mothers cuts through her steak as though it were Mare’s heart.  “Someone who doesn’t play by our rules.”

Tolly wipes his mouth, grimacing.  “Elara would never–”

“Elara isn’t king, is she?”  A snake slithers from her shoulders to rest on the table.  “You’ll have to remind him where he comes from.  Why Titanos can be nothing more than a guilty pleasure.”

My heart pounds as I remember the medicine I asked Elane to fetch.  I’d been weak to memories of my own punishments, of healers denied after an exam failed.  “She’s not a Titanos.”

“Of course not.”  Father almost smashes his glass against the table.  “Ethan would never sully himself with a red.”

Mother scoffs.  “What do we call her, then?  Mareena?”  Her lip curls.  “Calore?”

I sharpen my voice to fine sneer. “Her name’s Mare Barrow.”

“It’s strange.”  Tolly changes the subject before Father can interject.  “Cal never mentioned dancing with that servant girl.  Only Titan–”  A severe look.  “Barrow.  Only Barrow.”

Mother pauses.  “The footage was awfully blurry.”

Father scowls, teeth grinding as he saws through his steak.  “Another reason to demand an audience immediately.”

“Patience, darling.”  She chews her meat before swallowing.  “You earn no favors when you screech like a dog.”

I stand, plate untouched.  “We’ll find out soon enough.”

“Soon enough” comes many hours later, another feast to make up for the one cut short.  I’m not the main event this time, but that doesn’t calm the gossip bubbling among those beneath my station.  At least there’s one person who’ll never be riled by it.

“Lady Haven.”  The name tingles on my tongue, shimmers like a sunbeam at dawn.  “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

She smiles, lips red as the raging flame of her hair.  “Likewise, Lady Samos." She bites her lip.  “I’m afraid there’s a hawk just outside.  Let’s leave before it starts hunting for mice.”

My brow furrows.  Elane had a habit of speaking in code, one that leaves me unable to decipher.  I must ask her in a less public setting.

Before we can slink off to a private corner, however, a head of dark blonde curls pops from behind her.  “Hi!”  She has Samos eyes, dark and almond shaped, and something in me stirs with uneasy recognition.  “My name’s Lupa, but you can call me Lu.”

Elane stiffens, eyes locking on mine as if to apologize.  Lu pays her no mind.  “What’s your name?  I mean, I know it already but it’s always fun to pretend.”

I scoff.  What is she, ten?  “My reputation precedes me.”

“I’m fourteen.”

A headache bursts behind my temples, and Elane frowns.  “Was your age in question?”

“Sorry!”  She clamps a hand over her mouth.  “I forgot.”

Her gown registers for the first time, blue silk tied with a sheer white ribbon.  Merandus.  Elane’s being trailed by a Merandus.

“I say what I’m thinking to make things even.”  The little menace grips my hands, oblivious.  “Cause I’m real bad at controlling it.”

“Shame.”  My stomach turns as I force myself to smile.  “May I introduce you to my cousin?”

Her eyes light up.  “I love meeting new people!”

Atara is easy to find, dove cooing on her shoulder as she gossips with Heron.  I edge between them, metal plates sliding to form a bird of my own.  “Could you watch her for a minute while I catch up with Elane?”  I smile, teeth flashing.  “Be nice.”

Their chatter halts, and the dove glares at me as though I stole hatchlings from its nest.  Atara extends a hand, pointing.  “Have you seen the new Calore?”

My bird collapses into a sphere of shards, sharpening as I follow her gaze.  Sure enough, Barrow sits at his side, though she no longer wears Titanos colors.  No.  She wears something else entirely.

"They look good together, don't you think?"  I'm going to skewer her.  "Shame Cal had to go ax crazy on us, cause you weren't too bad either."

I sniff.  "She looks weak."

Atara sips a wine glass that looks suspiciously like Sonya's.  "Don’t let her hear that."

Lu bites her lip.  "Um--"

“Attention.”  Maven’s voice rings through the hall, sending everyone scrambling for their seats.  I glare at Atara before retreating to mine.  “We have an announcement to make.”

“No kidding,” I mutter.  Beside me, Barrow stiffens.  Her cheeks are flushed pink, an abomination, yet I find myself intrigued the longer I look.  I shake myself.  She looked better as a Silver.

“My father kept secrets from you.  Terrible secrets I never should’ve continued, but I let myself be blinded by grief.”  A hand on his heart.  “But last night, Lady Titanos reminded me a reign of lies is no reign at all.”

Her fists curl, and I tap her shoulder.  My words are sweet as syrup.  “You nervous?”

She grits her teeth.  “Shut up.”

Maven pays us no mind.  “My father insisted no Red could light up the sky as she did.  That she was a miracle best kept from the public, painted Silver so you’d never learn the truth.  But he was wrong.”  His voice cracks.  “There are others like her, neither Red nor Silver, searching for a place in a world that won’t accept them.  Come to Whitefire, and we shall find that place.”

Mare stands, hands trembling as the cameras twist to her.  “As your newly appointed Ambassador, I will ensure your family is compensated with a grain supply of a month or more.”  There’s something wild in her eyes, a caged animal unleashed.  “I will fight for whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Ambassador.”  If he’s angry, it doesn’t show.  “Now, any questions?”

The two are swarmed immediately, and I slip away, poised at the side entrance for when he takes a break.  By the time he does, my patience has snapped.  “What’s with her gown?”

“Hmm?”  He has the nerve to look surprised.  “Was it too plain?”

“It’s red.”

“For her blood.”

“And black.”

“We’re still in mourning, aren’t we?”  Maven frowns, though his eyes are smug as a cat’s.  “I do miss her in purple, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate.”

“But your house colors are?”

“Maven.”  The voice cuts through us both, an icicle sharper than my finest blade.  “Attend to the guests, please.”

“Mother!”  He jolts.  “I thought you had left.”

Elara smiles at him, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.  “Almost, darling.  Not yet.”  Her hand clasps over mine, and I haven’t the strength to pull away.  “Lady Samos, a word."

I follow her to the transport, diamondglass caging as much as it protects.  She leans back with a sigh.  “I’m in a terrible predicament.”

Smile.  “But you’re good at solving them.”

“Not this time, I’m afraid.”  She waves a hand.  “Two matters demand my attention, neither of which I can leave unsupervised.  A powerful Newblood on the run, and this . . . girl.”  Her lip curls.  “She’s as much a threat to you as she is to me.”

I still.

“Coriane and I had a different kind of Queenstrial.”  Elara chuckles.  “One she never realized we were playing.”

“You–”

“Put her to the test.”  Her smile spreads.  “However you see fit.”

Chapter Text

Elara

A few days.  A week at most.  That’s all it should’ve taken.  Plenty of time for a mistake to ripple through court, but not so long that I can’t fix it.

But this Red is craftier than I thought.  His home is empty by the time I arrive, void of loved ones to ransom or point his direction.  A note lies atop a mound of ash:

Dearest Elara,

It’s an honor to catch your attention.  I’ve long been dismissed as a quack by my contemporaries, but your wisdom far exceeds them.  However, I fear I cannot reveal my methods at this time.

Deepest Apologies,

Jon

Does he think he can run?

“Your Majest–”

“Burn the house down.”  The words crack through the air like a whip.  “Line up the townsfolk for inspection.”

Some of them try to resist.  

None succeed.

One by one, I scour their minds, sifting past the mundane for the slivers of silver, of glimpses caught before he could flee.  A blink of red eyes.  A strand of gray hair.  An old man dodging eyes on the road to Naercy.

“Search the bloodbase.”  I gesture to the nearest servant, a Swift who disappears within minutes.  As I wait, I sigh, stroking a diamond ring until my nerves settle.  I’m used to being underestimated.  Used to insolent little worms assuming I’m on their level.  No matter.  I’ll have him by the morning’s end.

Or the next.

“Burn the village.”  I turn around, waving a hand in the general direction of his hometown.  “Let him know the price of toying with me.”

Smoke wafts through the air as we depart, screams echoing in the distance.  I smile.  “Awfully noisy, isn’t it?”

No one responds.

I prefer it that way.

The gates of Naercy part without resistance, silent as they close behind us.  The Blood Base offers little but his presence in the city, yet I’m sure he won’t be too much trouble to find.  Naercy belongs to me, afterall.

“Search the first few blocks.”  Barely a whisper, yet they scramble to meet my demands.  Every head is accounted for, every mind ripe for the picking.  The Red is mine.

All I have to do is find him.

“On Ashbury Avenue, you say?”  My fingers curl, infinite futures one twitch from their grasp.  “Lead me to him.”

A path which ends not with his mind, but another fragment, a piece left behind in his hurry to escape.  I find another.  And another.  And another.

It grows tiring.

I cluck my tongue.  Perhaps I need to raise the stakes.

“A thousand crowns, if he’s alive.  Half that if he’s not.”  I don’t need to wave my hands for them to scramble, pasting posters to walls as if their lives depended on it.  My son’s certainly does.  I can’t have a Red this powerful on the loose.

I will find him.  No matter how long it takes.

Chapter Text

Mare

I wake to find my wardrobe empty.  To my maids carrying away the last trace of Titanos colors, shying away when I attempt to speak to them.  So does the healer, wordless as she trails a hand along my shoulder.  She leaves a note on my bedside table:

Your new schedule is as follows:

0730–Breakfast / 0800–Council / 1130–Luncheon

1300–Visiting an Esteemed Guest / 1800–Dinner

The rest of the day may be spent as you wish.

• His Royal Highness King Maven of House Calore.

“Council.”  The paper wrinkles between my fingers.  “What does that mean?”

No one answers.

I tap the shoulder of a maid, but she scurries off, shoving a dress into my hand without a word.  It’s not personal, but it still stings.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, seated far from any nobles who might question me.  Maven meets me afterwards, extending his arm in invitation.  I walk right past it.

It doesn’t deter him.  “Council’s this way.”

“Hmpf.”  I continue walking in the wrong direction.  “What is Council, anyway?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”  He nudges me, about to link arms before I relent.  Those we pass turn their heads, whispering amongst themselves.  Maven pays them no mind.  

I fail to do the same.

Council turns out to be a mess of grumbling nobles, quieting once Maven takes his seat.  One by one, they rise and bow, all eyes on me as I shuffle forward.  “Your Majesty, I–”  The words are small, a lamb before a lion.  “I don’t know where to sit.”

Murmurs rise around us, peppered with a few muffled laughs.  Maven frowns.  “I thought I informed you our new Ambassador would be joining us.” 

“Did you?”  Volo raises a brow.  “I don’t remember such a decree.”

My face heats in embarrassment, hands stiff, but still shaking.  Of course.  I’m not welcome here, and never have been.  Still, I can’t let myself waste pride on games, not when Maven’s throne hangs in the balance.  Let him hang by his own rope.

A few servants move as if to help me, only to be shushed by the glares of their lords.  They’re Silver, all of them, a precaution ever since the Scarlet Guard.  “No matter.”  Maven stands, a smirk behind his eyes.  “Have a seat, milady.”

Gasps echo off the marble, hushing as I step forward.  His hand is cool, neither a truth nor a lie, sensation lingering long after his fingers have left.  Heat rises to my cheeks.  “You don’t have to–”

“I insist.”  Maven smiles, dares anyone to proclaim his conduct improper.  A few hands raise as if to object, lowering once his gaze falls upon them.

“I’m no lady.”  I bite my lip, trying not to squirm.  “I’m not even a–”  Silver.  The word strikes me with a newfound ire, a rolling wave of rage and irritation.  Why shouldn’t I have a seat?  Why should I let Maven’s games take my dignity?

Volo clucks his tongue.  “Let the girl stand.  Consider it her Training for the day.”

I force a laugh.  "Training?  Then shouldn’t you all stand?  Your bones are older than mine after all, and more in need of strengthening."

Maven claps his hands.  "Splendid idea!  Put the chairs away.  Our work is too important to be sitting down for it."

The council explodes in grumbles and glares, anger split between me and Volo.  No one dares accuse Maven, still standing beside his empty seat.  A young man–a boy, really–clears his throat.  “Lady Ara has not arrived.”

The chatter falls to a hush as Maven turns his head.  The boy falters, throat bobbing.  His robe is orange, streaked with red: a Lerolan oblivion.  One of our targets at the Sun Shooting, one whose bullet found its mark.  Maven had been forced to take me aside.

I know them all, and it hurts me to betray them, but it must be done: a truth, a lie, something deeper I haven’t the words to explain.

“She hasn't returned from her mission,  I'm afraid."  He makes his way across the table, halting at an empty seat.   "I hope she doesn't mind."  With that, he settles into the chair, murmurs rising once again.  

Volo eyes me, but says nothing.  It seems he’s learned his lesson.  

Maven’s hand finds mine beneath the table, fingers stroking a silent question.  I squeeze them to near breakage.  Protect me, and I protect you.  But don’t mistake it for love.

"I have a question," Volo's voice strains with false civility.  "For our new ambassador."

"Denied."  Maven speaks before I can answer.  "She is here to listen.  Nothing more."

I stay silent, steadying my breath.  It’s my first day, and my skin is already crawling, already lighting itself on fire.  Nothing more.   It’s true, however much it burns.  It’s true, however much it aches.

“Really.”  Volo smirks, and I want to tear it off his face.  “What is the point, then?  Is she merely an ornament?  A sparkly little Red toy–”

I stand, air crackling with sparks.  “Lord Volo.”  A strangled hiss.  “What is your question?  If you insist on undermining the king’s authority for it.”

Murmurs rise once more as Volo clucks his tongue.  "Ambassador, what do you think of the riots your demonstration has caused?  It’s made my iron mines quite difficult to operate.”

Ambassador.   A step up from toy. A chorus of complaints rises beneath him, nobles muttering of inconvenience and sabotage.  My nails dig into my palm.  “Your operations must be quite fragile, then.  All I did was cut myself.”

“Let’s not play games, Ambassador.”  His lips form a grim line.  “You knew well the chaos your blood would cause.”

I cool my voice to something more neutral.  “Would you rather have never learned?”  My head cocks to the side.  “Would you rather I’d grown to sit amongst you unchecked?”

Discord spreads through the chambers.  A few nod their heads, swayed, while most grumble of folly and execution.  Volo simmers.  “I’d rather you’d never existed.”

Maven takes the interruption in stride.  “What a fate that would’ve been.  But I’m afraid we cannot undo what has already been done.”

“What troubles you are not the ordinary Reds, I take it?”  My voice is calm, measured.  “But those like me.”  Neither Red nor Silver.  Stronger than both.

He sneers.  “Abominations.”

“Careful with your language, Lord Volo.”  Maven has had enough.  “There are many in your House that could fill your position.”

My fingers curl.  I will not make it here on threats.  Not with my nonexistent authortiyu.  “Bring them to the palace, and we will train them.”  I smile, patting Maven’s arm as if to soothe him.   The ash to his fire.  The ambassador and the king.  “They will find no use in wrecking your mines.”

“What of the Reds?”  He will not be deterred.  “Will you call them off?”

“I–”  Swallow your pride.  Swallow the sacrifice.  “I do not command them.  But I may ask them to stand down, should the situation call for it.  I pray it doesn’t.”

“Your prayers are weak.”

“That’s enough.”  Maven sharpens.  “We have more important matters to decide upon.”

They prattle on for the rest of the morning, taxes and imports, all matters I haven’t the education to understand.  When the session ends, I am the first out the door, the first to bump into a head of crimson curls.   Elane Haven peers up at me, clutching a letter that has almost fallen to the floor.   “Sorry,” I mutter.

“No worries.”  She chuckles.  “I was looking for you.”

“You were?”

“Evangeline’s holding luncheon with several ladies of court.”  Elane glances around, weary, before extending me the envelope.  “I felt it wrong to exclude you.”

The paper is smooth, sealed in wax.  “Thank you.”

She disappears into the crowd before I can open it, and Maven peers over my shoulder.  “I’m proud of you.”  He squeezes my hand.  “You conducted yourself well back there.”

My heart pounds.  “I had no choice.”

“Perhaps.”  He turns to the window.  “Someone is expecting us.”

“Tell them to wait.”

He shakes his head.  “That would be a terrible idea.  For both of us.”

Sweat drips down my palm.  “Who–”

“Come.”  Maven smiles.  “We’ll discuss it in the transport.”

Chapter Text

Evangeline

Elara’s words haunt me as I conduct my courtly duties, echoing even as I print invitations for luncheon.  Ordinarily, I’d call a servant, but I’ve seen the way they look at her.  The way their eyes linger on her new uniform, sparkling as she stood at the new king’s side.  They think she’s their savior.

And I am their enemy.

My anger is buried in calligraphy, grand sweeps that reduce Barrow to a messy splotch of ink.  She’s not invited, of course.  Not until she bows before me and apologizes.  For what, I’m not sure.  She can figure it out.

“Hey.”  A voice calls from behind me, sunbeam drifting from the window to my hair. Hers burns against a black gown, tickling my chin as she leans into my ear.  “Having a bad day?”

“With you?  Never.”

She chuckles.  “That’s a lot of invitations.”

“To be unsent.”  I cluck my tongue.  “Barrow’s are a mere vent for my rage.”

“Hmm.”  Elane places a hand over mine.  “Perhaps they could be more.”

I make a face.  “Surely you don’t mean–”

“I wanna see how she reacts.”  She plucks one of the nicer envelopes, sealing it before I can object.  “Enemies are best kept close, darling.”

“Lovers closest of all.”  My hand creeps to her waist, tugging her onto my lap.  The other pries the invitation away.

“Evie–”  She rolls her eyes, protest waning as I pepper her chin with kisses.  Her fingers climb to my shoulder, envelope fluttering to the ground.  “You naughty girl.”

“Your naughty girl.”

Elane tuts, shaking her head.  “Who else are you inviting?”

“Atara.  Sonya.  You.”  I sign the last invitation with a flourish.  “My trio of spies.”

“Clever.”  Barrow’s envelope dangles between her fingers, several inches from my grasp.  I reach for it, and she sighs.  “Eve–”

I waver.  Elane has never been so insistent with me, not without reason.  "What are you planning?"

"A surprise.”  She lays a finger on my lips.  “Trust me.”

“Alright.”  A breath.  “Could you deliver them?  I don’t trust the Reds.”

Her eyes gleam.  “Neither do I.”

Luncheon is a quiet affair, at first.  Neither Sonya nor Atara have much to say, especially when Barrow fails to make an appearance.  I cluck my tongue.  “She thinks she’s too good for us.”

“You mean Elane?”  Atara is sharp as a blade, sinking in my chest with lethal precision.  “I agree.  She’s always been too good for anyone but you.”

Invest in your cousin.  Mother’s words rise within me, distant and laughable.  She may scorn you on the surface, but she yearns for your approval.  Give her scraps, and she will hunger for more.

"It is odd that she hasn’t made an appearance."  Sonya purses her lips.  “Either of them.”

My fists clench.  “Elane has earned the right to be tardy.  Barrow has not.”

“She’s probably making out with Maven in a corner somewhere.”  Atara yawns.  “Or Elane.  It wouldn’t surprise me.  She’s clearly a seductress.”

“Excuse me.”  Elane never fails to make my heart stop beating.  “Who am I making out with?”

Sonya smiles.  “Welcome back.”

Atara sniffs, folding her arms.  “Took you long enough.”  She stills, mouth tightening.  “Who’s your friend?”

A headache splits my temples, tickling my brain in recognition.  Lupa Merandus pops from behind her, bouncing as Elane shakes her head in apology.  “My name is–”

“A nuisance.”  I shove her aside, bidding Elane settle in the seat beside me.  Lu deflates.  “Begone.”

She bites her lip.  “I have nowhere else to go.”

Elane sighs, patting her head.  “You have a mother, don’t you?”

Lu’s eyes meet mine, dark as pitch, and I stiffen with realization.  I know that hair color.  I know those eyes.  They haunt my nightmares, a bedtime story gone wrong, Mother’s voice slithering in my ears.  There once was a girl named Gwendolyn.

There once was a girl who betrayed us all.

“She wants me to make friends.”  Lu shuffles in place, a picture of guilt.  “Aren’t we?”

Sonya purses her lips.  “I’m afraid not, darling.”

Her head snaps in her direction, eyes ablaze.  “I can hear you.”

A dark chuckle.  “And I can feel you.”

Atara leans forward, eyes wide and shoulders tense.  “What do you hear, whisper?  Besides complaints of your headaches.”

Lu doesn’t answer, staring at the ground with clenched fists.  Her mother fills in the shadows of her face, a ghost still living, however tortured.  I saw her once.  Seated beside her husband, a Samos among whispers.  A fitting punishment for her crimes.

“Tell me, can you hear Evangeline?”  Atara taps the table.  “Does she remember the time she severed my hand in Training?  How she didn’t hesitate to slice my bones like butter?”

“I never hesitate, Viper.”  Toss her scraps.  “You wouldn’t either.”

Atara meets my gaze, hungry, before she stiffens.  “Mav–Your Majesty.”  She grits her teeth.  “What brings you here?”

The temperature drops as Maven pulls up a chair, a perfect mask of boyish concern.  “Unfortunate news, I’m afraid.”

“Hmm?”  Sonya raises a brow.  “For whom?”

“All of us.  You especially.”  He lowers his head.  “Your grandmother has been captured by the Lakelands.”  His throat bobs.  “Well.  She was .”

Atara frowns.  “What does that mean?”

“She took a cyanide pill.”

A muffled gasp catches my attention, and I turn to find Lu covering her mouth.  This war would be over , I want to snarl.  If it weren’t for your mother.  If it weren’t for the alliance she broke, a Lakeland House turning to the other side.  All we needed was for her to marry him.  All we needed was for her to not run away.

Sonya looks down, gripping the table.  “It was quick?”

“No torture.”  He exhales.  “I’m sorry.  I–”  A breath.  “I know what it’s like to lose a family member.”

I frown.  “Will we see her body?”

“No.”  Sonya answers for him, barely a whisper.  “The Lakelands don’t broadcast as we do.  They don’t have the infrastructure.”

Something tugs at me, an instinct I’ve long learned not to ignore.  Elara and The Panther never liked each other.  It would be easy to slit her throat in the chaos.

“Excuse me.”  Sonya rises, still looking at the ground.  “I must go now.”

Maven gestures to Lu, still nestled in the corner, but enraged no longer.  Her knee slams into the table as she jumps.  He chuckles.  “May I pull you away for a moment?”

She clutches her knee.  “Sure.”

Elane snaps to attention, glancing at me before Atara grabs her hand.  “You know how Lord Salin taught us to keep our footsteps light as a silk’s?  You’re so much better at it than I am.  Can you help me?”

She grits her teeth.  “Right now?”

“What better time?”  Atara grins.  “Evangeline doesn’t mind, I’m sure.”

Forget tossing her scraps, I’m tossing her out the window.  “Viper–”

“Excellent!”  She tugs Elane in the opposite direction of Maven and Lupa, attention too fierce to let her slip away.  My trio of spies has dwindled to none.  But I can’t let that stop me.

An exaggerated sigh, a scrape of my chair, and footsteps leading in the opposite direction.  I pause, bidding the razors of my dress still.  It seems I’ve left.

Seems.

I press an ear to the wall, edging closer with each step.  My foot slides through the door, peering in as Maven gestures for Lupa to sit down again.  They cannot see me.  I can’t let them.

Do you know, Mother’s words echo unbidden.  What happens when a Samos betrays the family?

I know.  I know what happened to Gwendolyn Samos.  How the Provos girl she fled with was torn to shreds, and how she was taken back in chains.  It was too late for the alliance.  They found a use for her.

“Never let that be your fate.”

I’d straightened.  “ I won’t.”

Maven’s voice pulls me to the present, to him regarding her with a smile false as the rest of him.  “I’m very proud of you.  You caught my eye when you reported that seer in the gardens, and you’ve succeeded in every task I’ve given you since.”

Lu bounces, too loud for her own good.  “It was really hard to follow her, she kept disappearing, but I can still sense she’s there so Elane–”

He shushes her.  “I have a new task for you.”

She leans in, stilling as he describes the Reds about to invade our court.  “Could you check they tell the truth?  I don’t want anyone to fool our ambassador.”

“The Red?”  Her face lights up.  “I always see you two together.  I think she really likes you!”

I chuckle, and Maven rises from his chair.  My hand clasps over my mouth, eyes scanning for any hint he heard me.  He glances in my direction.  “I hope so.”

“You two are really cute!  Mother always says so.  She thinks you’ll–”  Her mouth shuts, a guilty silence.  “Nothing.”

Footsteps, ones I chafe against and flee down the hall.  My heart pounds as he opens the door.  He didn’t see me.  He didn’t see me.

Nor did I see her.

My shoulder collides against flesh, a muffled yelp, and heels skittering on the marble.  We fall together, limbs atangle, and I curse.  “Who invited you, Barrow?”

She waves a letter in my face.  “Get off me.”

I glower.  "Gladly."

We disentangle, two firecrackers sizzling as we send ourselves to the floor again.  Barrow pries a razor from my dress and I sneer.  "Get your own."

"Trying."  She wrestles it away, rolling on the floor.  "You’re getting sloppy."

"You realize that metal is less than useless, right?"

She shrugs.  "It makes me feel better."

“Hmpf.”  I fold my arms. "Has Maven told you about the hawk?”

She blinks.

“Whisper.  Old term.”  I wave my hand.  “He plans to inspect your Reds with them.”  I study my nails.  “Your darling Maven doesn’t trust them.  I doubt he trusts you either.”

“He is not my darling.”  Barrow puffs herself up like an angry cat.  “Especially not now.”

I chuckle.  “What a twist.”

Footsteps, a chill in the air, and a hand brushing my shoulder.  “Lady Samos.”  Maven has perfected the art of polite threats.  “Why are you wrestling with our ambassador?”

“I dropped something.”  I snatch back the razor, blood dripping from her palm.  She makes no sound, no cry of pain.  She only glares.

Maven helps Barrow up, hissing as he notices the wound I’ve made.  “I thought I told you to stay in the transport.”

She lets go of his hand with a curtsey.  “Apologies, Your Majesty.  I must not have heard you.”

A bold-faced lie, one that makes me smile.  I watch them leave in uneasy silence, a confrontation they will not have in my presence.   She wants to be my Coriane?  Splendid.  I will not hesitate to make her bleed.

Chapter Text

Mare

The transport is small, too small for my liking, and I seat myself on the opposite window from Maven.  He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, pressing it to my palm.  “There’s no time for a healer.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  I straighten.  “It reminds me who I am.  Why I’m here.”

Maven frowns, but says nothing.  What could he?  We each have different visions of who the other should be.  Different backs that will not break, different flags to never wear white.  I hold his hand in one, and a dagger in the other.

“When were you going to tell me about the whisper?”

His scowl deepens.  “Evangeline was eavesdropping, was she?”

“Good on her.  Someone needs to keep an eye on you.”  I cross my arms, unyielding.  “Tell me what you need, and I will find another way to get it.”

“What I need is the trust of my court, something you do not have.”  Maven runs a hand through his hair, twitching.  “You are not the only one I need to please.”

Please .  The word angers something deep within me, something that grabs his hand before it can retreat to his side.  My fingers bruise his.  Beneath them, smooth hair feathers against my skin.  “Humor me.”

Sweat rolls across his brow.  The air between us is a ragged inhale, a line drawn taut.  I shouldn’t have grabbed him.  Shouldn’t have let us perch on the edge of another kiss.  Part of me wants to.  Part of me wants to tear his teeth with my lips, to whisper sweet nothings until he does my bidding.  To use him as he once used me.

He pries my fingers away.  “I need to be sure your Reds are who they say they are.  And loathe as I am to ask anything of my cousins, I cannot read minds.  So I picked the least dangerous among them.”

I bristle.  “Why should I believe you?”

A glint in his eye, one that would have brought a different Mare to her knees.  “We’re still engaged.”

It takes a moment to register.  “You’re not serious.”

“Your display interrupted my engagement to Evangeline.”  He leans closer, hand skimming my shoulder.  “No one has demanded we redo it yet.”

“You can’t possibly–”

Maven sighs.  “I know you’ll never love me, Mare.  But I can live with you using me.”

The words linger in the air, a path affixed to the edge of a cliff.  I clutch my gown, colors registering for the first time.  Black.  Red.  The mark of House Calore.

He notices my gaze.  “Red as the dawn.”  The phrase reminds me of a different Maven, one who would’ve called this person a monster.  “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Did you?”  My hand snakes to the base of his neck.  Kiss him.  Choke him.  Either path will end in tears.  “Then you’re not as smart as you look.”

“Careful.”  Maven pries my fingers away.  “You’re still bleeding.”

“And whose fault is that?”

He doesn’t answer, trailing a hand until he’s holding the handkerchief again.  The fabric has long ceased to be white, staining his fingers as he tucks it away.  It suits him.

I sniff.  “Who are we visiting, anyway?”

“A once great general and a former queen.”  He looks out the window.  “One I haven’t met in a long time.”

“Once great.”  I edge closer, and our knees brush.  “What changed?”

“Poor thing lost her mind after Coriane’s death.”  Maven dusts his fingers.  “Stopped coming to court.  Sat out of meetings.  What a tragedy.”

“I suppose Elara had nothing to do with this.”

His lips tug.  “You’re learning.”

The transport screeches to a halt, and Maven helps me onto the pavement.  The gates are gilded with orange flames, creeping along the iron as if to devour the bricks on either side.  Inside, black drapes over every surface: the windows, the tables, even the statues which line the halls.  Red and orange curl at the edges, hastily painted over in grief.  A shadow has been cast over the Lerolan estate.  And we are not here to fix it.

A woman waits in the dining hall, knuckles ripe with age.  Her spine is rigid, unyielding as Maven walks in her direction.  “Took you long enough.”

“Nanabel.”  Maven embraces her, sinking into a shallow bow.  “Apologies for our tardiness.”

She sniffs.  “Who is your . . . guest?”

My curtsey is as awkward and sloppy as I can get away with.  Her lips purse, a vision of distaste.  She can see my blood.

She does not like it.

“Our newest ambassador.”  Maven’s mask is one of cheer, though I can see the tug of dissatisfaction beneath.  “You deserve a proper introduction.”

“Mareena, was it?”  She brushes him aside, squinting as she studies my face.  Her gown is black as the rest of court, but for once I find a face to match.  Eyes flushed with silver, hands curled just short of fists.  This is a woman with names on a list.  And she wants to know if I must be one of them.

“Mare.  Mare Barrow.”

Her lip curls.  “Nice to meet you, Mareena.”

Maven cuts in before I make things worse.  “Our condolences. Your son, he–”  His throat bobs.  “He did not deserve to die as he did.”

Son.  It clicks.

“I know.”  Anabel Lerolan, mother of Tiberias the Sixth, dabs her eyes.  Lady Blonos made me memorize her name in a long list of others, though she hadn’t mentioned she was still living.  “Any news of my grandson?”

His hand squeezes a moment before relaxing.  “He is not family.  Not anymore.”

“Hmm.”  Something flickers in her eyes, a crease in her forehead which grows deeper by the moment.  “Ptolemus heads the search, I take it?”

“They’ll have him within the month.”  Maven sits down, plucking the knife from the napkin.  “Evangeline is a serpent, and her brother is a bloodhound.”

“Strange.”  Anabel dabs her chin.  “Gossip would suggest she is the one who slithers.”  A nod in my direction.  “And she’s managed to make a nest of your bed.”

Maven flushes, and my cheeks warm in kind.  Good.  Let him think me flustered.  It’ll be all the easier to pierce his guard.  I fiddle with the napkin.  “I prefer those who say I have fangs.”

She chuckles.  “Would you rather I were one of them?”

“I’d rather you take her at her word.”  Maven stands, meal long forgotten.  “People said the same of Coriane, and you still let Father marry her.”

His mother doesn’t approve, so he runs to his grandmother.  I don’t know whether to laugh or scream.

Neither does Anabel.  She exhales, fingers curling to fists.  “You want my help.”

“Your blessing.”

She stands.  “You know my price.”

He stiffens.  “I know you must be willing to negotiate.  You’ve not had a throne in a long time.  You know well the favors I could grant you.”

Anabel walks closer.  “Your mother would never allow it.  And if she did, it would never last long enough to matter.”

“Be reasonable.”  Maven shakes his head.  “You know I’d never–”

“You’re asking me to stand against Elara.”   She slams a fist on the table.  “I want insurance she won’t strike back.  You want your heart?  I want her head.”

Silence.

He takes my hand, guiding me to sit beside him in the quiet.  I glance at Anabel, still fuming.  “Is her head a dealbreaker, or would her foot suffice?”

Anabel doesn’t waver.  Maven only tightens his grip.  “When I was born, everyone thought I was a whisper.  My hair was blonde, not yet dark, and the nursemaids swore they heard voices whenever I was near.  When I cried, no one held me.  Not Father.  Not you.  Only her.”

I wait for her to deny it.  To throw the words in his face like the lie it must be.  But she only sniffs.  “If you’re trying to guilt me, it isn’t working.”

Maven exhales, gripping the table as if it were her throat.  “I’m pointing out how feeble it is to drive us apart.  How I have every reason to cast you further from our court.”

“Is this how you speak to Evangeline?  If so, keep it up.  She’ll have your head within the month.”

“We’re done here."  He snarls, storming to the door.  I should go after him.  Savor every moment spent away from her critical gaze, and use that time to better manipulate him.  But I don’t follow.  Something tells me there are secrets stowed beneath these floors.  And Maven is the one who might bar me to them.

“I saw a hawk yesterday.”

She tilts her head.  “And?”

“Blue feathers.  Sharp beak.  I saw it every day, and shuddered everytime it looked at me.”  I don’t blink.  “But when I woke this morning, it was gone.  Very strange.”

My heart pounds.  It’s risky, speaking to her in code.  Whether she’ll think me an airhead, or too clever to keep around.  But I will not make it without allies.  Not with Evangeline as an enemy.

“Do you like birdwatching, Miss Barrow?”

I startle.

Anabel takes my hand, smiling.  “I used to birdwatch with Lady Ara all the time.  They called her ‘The Panther’ for all the birds she caught.  Such a shame she disappeared.”  Her eyes glitter.  “If you find her, could you let me know?  Perhaps Maven has an idea.”

The Panther.  The greatest spy of her generation, one Elara had unkind things to say about.  I swallow.  “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thank you.  My grandson–”  She chokes on the word.  Whatever lies he fed her, she hasn’t believed them.  “Seems quite attached to you.  Make the most of it.”

My fists clench.  “I will.”

It’s the last thing I say before she dismisses me.

Chapter Text

Mare

The library is quiet, empty but for a few servants stacking the shelves.  I’m reminded of Julian and his lessons, the catharsis of my ability crackling to life.  A truth uncovered, hidden even to me.  He died for it.  For his sister , he said.

I pace through the aisles, reaching for the odd book only to pull back.  The Panther worked in the shadows.  I should not be looking in the light.  Yet I cannot bring myself to search the next place.  To ask Maven another favor when I'm already so deep.

I grit my teeth.  Part of me is tempted to beat the answer out of him, but the rest of me knows it wouldn’t work.  Maven has been trained to lie through pain, and he would call the guards before I struck a second time.  Still.  It would be fun.

Another, traitorous part of me wants this.  To pry promises from his lips as I did on the boat, sink one hand in his hair and the other in his crown.  The king’s ear.  Maven’s lover.  Both set my heart pounding in different ways.

I will never make the mistake of loving him again.  But I can pretend.  I can command my maids to add subtle touches to my makeup, to fetch a gown I know is to his taste.  I can summon him to my chambers and pretend not to notice him.  I can grab his hand in surprise, only to pull away, flustered.  “Can you–”  Head down.  Bite your lip.  “Teach me to dance?”

He frowns.  “Surely you already know how.”

“I forgot.”  Little transparent, but keep going.  “Evangeline was making fun of me for it earlier.”

“Evangeline’s opinion is worthless.”  Maven scowls.  “She’ll stop at nothing to keep you from her crown.”

“She has the respect of Court.  I don’t.”  A shameless curtsey, one he helps me up from.  “Shall we dance?”

He hesitates.  My hand fits in his like a glove, guiding him to my waist.  “You’re a natural,” he murmurs.

“Am I?”  Be humble, and he will compliment you.  “I hadn’t noticed.”

A brow raise, followed by my hand in his.  “Surely you know how to waltz.”

“Of course.”  I chuckle.  “Do you?”

Maven sighs, letting me go.  “I don’t have time for this.”

“Cal had time for this.”

That catches his attention.  His fingers entwine with mine again, closing the distance between us to impropriety.  I let my breath catch as he adjusts my stance, gentle nudges breathed against my ear.  He’s good at this.  I must be better.

When it is time to spin, I trip.  He catches me, a sharp inhale, flushing as I press my hand against his chest.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.  Not to me.”  His hand lingers over mine, unwilling to pry me away.  “I’m here to teach you, aren’t I?”

Now or never.  “Evangeline told me something strange.  A mysterious disappearance.”  I lean closer.  “You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”

A beat passes.

He chuckles.  “So that’s your aim.”

I burn, suddenly hyper aware of how I must look.  How our dance has pressed me against his chest, arms folded in an embrace.  The king of lies is not easily flustered.  Yet I can’t ignore the silver creeping across his cheeks.

“I’ve been playing this game longer than you, my darling.”  Maven shakes his head.  “Though I must admit, it was a valiant attempt.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He leans closer.  “Who wants to know?”

“I do.”  A step away, sloppy footing he must correct.  “Isn’t that enough?”

Maven catches me in his gaze, running a hand along my arm.  “It’s sensitive.  There are many who would hurt you to get ahold of it.”

“If you tell me, I can protect myself.”  My heart pounds as he touches my chin.  “What else am I to do?”

Too close.  He’s too close, too intense, too gentle as he strokes my jaw.  His thumb grazes my bottom lip.  "Who told you to seduce me for it?"

My breath catches.

"I'm not an idiot, Mare.  Someone told you to ask me about Ara Iral."  He leans as if to kiss me.  "Someone who would destroy you, if given the chance."

"I never mentioned Lady Iral."

Maven pauses.  "You didn’t."  He steps back.  "Neither did I."

I shake my head.  “Elara didn’t like her, did she?”

“Mother has many enemies.”  He shrugs.  “Who am I to keep track?”

“I’m not an idiot, Maven.”  Oh, to throw his words in his face!  “You’re her son first, and your own person second.”

His facade cracks like an egg, a glimmer of doubt before solidifying.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A raised brow.  “Elara didn’t lead me out of that cell.  But you needed her permission to keep me breathing.”

“Permission I received.”

I cluck my tongue.  “For now.  What happens if I become her enemy?”  He dips me, and my frown sharpens.  “Will I befall the same fate as Lady Iral?”

Maven rights me.  “Never.”

“Hmm.”  My head tilts.  “I don’t believe you.”

He stiffens.  “What will it take?”

“Tell me what happened to Lady Iral.”  A hand at his chest, a gaze up through my lashes.  “Tell me what the worst could be, so I can avoid it.”

Maven hesitates, letting go of my waist.  “You don’t want to know.”

“Neither do I.”  A voice rises from behind us, and I almost jump.  Evangeline leans in the doorway, studying her nails.  “Knock it off, lovebirds.”  Her teeth flash.  “The first newblood has arrived.”

Chapter Text

Mare

The whisper is a child.  Sand-brown hair, dark eyes, twig arms and legs that tremble as the council looks upon her.  There is no mistaking the bounce of her hair, the twitch of her fingers, the quiver of her voice as she names the thoughts of the Newblood.  “A servant of Governor Rhambos."  Deep breath.  “Ada Wallace.”

The woman smiles, uneasy, amber eyes creasing as Lu takes her hand.  “I can speak for myself.”

She freezes, eyes darting to the council.  Volo scoffs.  “Your word means little, Red.”

“But mine doesn’t.”  I can’t resist.  “Speak, Wallace.  The whisper will know if you lie.”

Her brown hair bobs in my direction, a head which turns to Lu and falls to a hush.  “It’s easier if you clear your mind.”

Murmurs ripple through the room, growing louder as Ada continues.  “Whispering requires your thoughts be separate, to avoid tangling yourself with another’s.  Many tear their host’s mind in the process.  I would prefer you didn’t.”

Lu startles.  “How do you–?”

“ The Art of the Hawk: How to Search a Mind,   Section 8, paragraph 20.”  Ada smiles.  “Hawk is an old name for whisper.”

Volo stands.  “What are you suggesting?”

My blood runs cold.

“The governor’s library was quite extensive.  I would spend my free moments devouring any slip of paper I could get my hands on."

He snorts.  "Chewed on them, did you?"

"The paper was too thick, I'm afraid.  I don't have the mandibles for it."  Pause.  "Bookworms, on the other hand--"

I clear my throat.  “Lady Merandus, can you sense her ability?”

Lu nods.  “She’s read every book in the governor’s library.  Every.  Single.  One.”  Her voice quivers.  “Each page is still in her memory.”

Ada soothes her arm.  “There’s no need to be scared.”

She sniffles.  “My head hurts.”

“Poor you,” someone mutters.

Volo scoffs.  “It appears we have a servant with too much time on her hands.  I suggest she find ways to better occupy it.  Perhaps in the Scullery?”

Lu takes a breath.  “That would be a waste.”

“Oh?”  His voice grows dark.  “Tell me then, with your infinite wisdom.  Surely you won't waste our time again with your . . . ”  His lip curls.  “Antics.”

Ada clutches her head as Lu stares Lord Volo in the eye.  “If it’s in a book, she can learn it.  Any instruction manual, any guide–one read, and she’s a trained professional.”

“Hogwash.”

Lu burns.  “I’m literally a mind reader.”

“A foolish one.”  He tsks.  “Your Majesty, send her back.  The governor should give her the cane for her lies.”

“I’m.  Not.  A.  Liar.”  Nobles start to wince as Lu steps forward, and my head begins to pound.  “You dare–”

Maven sighs.  “Both of you, shush.  Your theatrics bore me.”  He gestures to Volo.  “Disrupt our proceedings again, and I’ll find another Samos to fill your post.  You have many enemies, Lord Volo.  Do not give me reason to feed them.”

I rise, shaky.  “As ambassador, it is my duty to introduce her to court and find her place in it.  This is a demonstration, not a trial.”

“Well said.”  Maven nods, and I try not to imagine kissing that jaw until it bleeds.  “Dismissed.”

Ada shuffles in place as the rest of the council departs.  A few nobles jeer as they pass her by, but her head holds high and her stance firm.  She looks at me, then dips into a curtsey.  “Ambassador Barrow.”  The words send a chill down my spine.  “How may I be of service?”

Lu perks.  “You’d be a great general.  Mom was almost one, I bet she could--"

General.  Something in me twitches in recognition.  Anabel had been a general.  Perhaps she would be interested in a new army.

"Let's get you to the library."  I nudge Ada, who hasn't taken her eyes off Lu.  "They'll have twice the knowledge of the governor, I promise."

Lu bites her lip.  "You shouldn't."

Before I can ask why, the curtains ripple without a breeze, a sigh echoing from behind them.  “I can’t shake you, can I?”

“Nothing gets past me.”  Lu folds her arms, quivering.  “Not even you.”

Chuckle.  “You’re quite the prodigy.”

“Maven said you would flatter me.”

“Takes a snake to know one, I suppose.”  The curtains ripple once more, red hair curling into view.  Elane Haven takes a bow, gliding to my side and shaking my hand.  “Apologies for the dramatics.  I’m not supposed to be in these meetings.”

My cheeks flush, red blood pumping into sharp focus.  “Neither am I.”

“Tumbled into them, did you?”  She smiles, and my heart pounds a little faster.  “May I see your shoulder?”

“What for?”

Elane tilts her head.  “To check if the cream is working.”

My hands to where the wound had once been, now nothing more than smooth skin.  “How–”

“I gave it to him.”  Her hands are still entwined with mine, and she makes no move to disentangle.  “I heard what happened with the queen, and well, I couldn’t stand idle.”

I step back, wary.  “You’ve been watching me.”

“Much as I’ve been able.  I’m afraid I’ve stumbled upon my own shadow.”  She glares at Lu, but she glares right back.  She returns to me with a sigh.  “Maven has quite the eye.  You’ve fared far better than I thought you would.”

Flattery.  “I’m not falling for it.”

“What is there to fall for?  My devilish charm?”  Elane winks.  “I’m taken, I’m afraid.”

Maven, too, had pretended to be my friend.   Had let me into his heart only so I’d open mine.  Usury.  Exchange.  Debt.  Emotions are currency, and I will not let mine be spent.  “You want something.  What is it?”

A beat passes.  “Would you believe I know about Lady Iral, and want you to stop nosing around?”

My breath hitches.  “Did Maven send you?”

“Would it matter?”

I don’t know.  Nothing makes sense anymore, not after I took his hand and let him lead me to the altar.  He gave me his word.  It wasn’t worth much.  “Depends.  Can you vouch for Ada Wallace, and the rest of my Newblood brethren?”

Lu brightens.  “I can–”

“Shush.”  I pat her on the head.  “You’re what, ten?”

“Fourteen.”

“Anabel won’t take you seriously.  You saw the council.  You’re as easy to dismiss as I am.”  The words burn, but they must be borne.  “Come with me to the Lerolan estate, Lady Haven, and I won’t need to search for Iral anymore.”

Elane curls a hair around her finger, pursing her lips. “What would you have me do?”

“Convince Anabel Lerolan to help me train the incoming Reds.” I straighten, channeling the haughty poise of Mareena Titanos.  “Persuasion is your specialty, is it not?”

Her lips tug.  “It is.”

And so the deal is sealed.  But not before a Merandus glares at us both, turning to the door and exiting with a huff.

Chapter Text

Evangeline

Razors are too dull.  Spikes are what I need, spikes to tear Red flesh and pin bodies to the wall.  Steel lengthening and fracturing to my command, the one thing which never fails me.  Barrow can scheme all she wants.  She would never beat me in the arena.

“You ready?”  I nudge Tolly, clad in blades which fan across his chest like feathers.  He nods.  Together, we board the snapdragon, breathing in the thrum of steel and the blades rotating above.  Electricity pulses through it, and I hiss.  Barrow would love to send us spiraling to our deaths.

Archeon gleams below us, sprawling streets and checkered roofs.  Our target lies not here, but in Harbor Bay, a rogue Newblood we’re expected to haul to the palace.  I suggested we dispose of him instead.  Maven suggested disposing of me.

“We land in five minutes.”  Tolly lays a hand on my shoulder.  “Pretend he’s Barrow.”

The plane rocks before I can answer, heat rippling through the metal until it bends.  Fire.

Cal.

Of all times, he had to show up now.  I still remember his escape from the arena, how he protected that girl as long as he could.  She was no match for my broken pipe, the twisted metal torn from the foundation in my rage.  I didn’t leave much of the body.  I cannot make that mistake this time.

Each screw loosens and melts into a collective sheet of metal, one which hovers below the burning snapdragon.  We fall atop it, guiding another metal sheet beneath, again and again until a staircase leads to the empty square.  Someone awaits us.

It isn’t Cal.

A boy scarce more than seventeen sends a fireball from behind a fountain, a poorly aimed one at that.  Tolly flicks one of the sheets into a snake, one that curls around his wrist and flings him against the pavement.  Wolliver wheezes, more so when my boot lands on his neck.  “You have one chance to let me go.”

I laugh.  “Or what, Rat?”

A woosh of air beside me, Tolly’s yelp, a rock slamming into his head and sending his eyes shut.  They don’t open.  Dust flies as a young man with honey brown skin aims another rock at my head, disappearing once it lands on the ground.  My boot leaves Wolliver’s neck and he runs, a circle of flames rising around us.  I take hold of Tolly’s snake and send it slithering on the outskirts, thinning out as it stretches further and further.  I will not be beaten by a Newblood Swift.

The ground becomes a hashmark of metal wires as the snake covers all within the circle.  At the edges, it melts, and the flames rise higher.  Fireballs begin to hurl themselves at my head, but I am faster.

“I blame Barrow for this!”  I haul Tolly’s body upright, dodging another fireball.  “If she means anything to you, you will surrender!”

I expect absolutely nothing except more reason to hate her, only for the flames to draw tighter and tighter.  Smoke curls into my lungs and I screech, coiling the metal into a snake again.  Is this how we die?

But then the snake wraps around an ankle, another rock thrown to no avail but my own satisfaction.  The boy with brown skin is here again.

And this time, I won’t let him escape.

I tighten my grip on Tolly’s body and the snake tightens in turn.  The world grows too small, too dark, squeezing me from all angles before relenting.  The flames are gone.  So are the buildings, the fountain, the pavement beneath me.  I am crouched in an alleyway, still clutching Tolly across my aching back.

The boy has accidentally brought me with him.

My snake keeps hold of his ankle, but the iron at my sleeve sharpens to a bullet.  It hovers above my hand before searching for a target, not the boy, but another, less slippery one.  The dark is hard to discern bodies in, but I catch a silhouette of a woman beside him.

The bullet presses against her skull.  “Surrender the Newblood, and no one gets hurt.”

The boy jerks his head towards me and lunges, sending Tolly tumbling to the floor.  He presses a boot against his neck.  “I could say the same to you.”

“Don’t move.”   I give the snake fangs and make it bite.  “I have a bullet pressed against your–”  My lips purse.  “Sister?  Mother?  Cousin?”  I sigh.  “You better not be mortal enemies.”

“We are.  Kill her.  I don’t care.”

“You’re bluffing.”

His boot inches further on Tolly’s neck and my heartbeat erupts into a frenzy.  “You’re both from Samos.”

I snort.  “So it has a brain.”

“Very high up, if you’re set to marry the king.”  He eases his boot off Tolly’s throat.  “You must be seething at doing such low work.”

I sneer.  “You would know, I suppose.”

“You must know a great deal about my si–Mare Barrow and her Newbloods.”  He steels, inching the boot back on.  “Perhaps we could broker a trade.”

I tilt my head back and laugh.

“Tell us her loyalties and what state she’s being kept in.”  The words are slow, not too eager.  “And you may have the Newblood.”

The woman growls.  “Shade, don’t–”

I file away the name for later.  “Kill him, for all I care.  Maven won’t know the difference.”

“First name basis, I see.”

“Kill him too.”

He grins.  “That can be arranged.”

In the background, the woman has been jerking her head to no avail.  My bullet remains atop her skull, no matter how she tries to pry it off.

“Eve,” Tolly wheezes.  “Give him the damn info.”

The boot comes crashing down on his throat again and I almost blast her skull off.  “Let him go.”

He shakes his head.  “Her first.”

The bullet snaps to my sleeve in an instant, his boot to the ground a moment later.  Tolly sits up, coughing, and I kneel beside him.  “They’ll pay, don’t worry.”

Shade clears his throat.  “The information?”

I roll my eyes.  “Your lightning girl has betrayed you.  She dines in luxury at the king’s side, so don’t bother contacting her.”

His eyes narrow.  “Lies.”

“A deal’s a deal.”  I shrug.  “You can blame the king.  I think he made too many promises against her lips.”

He freezes.  Beside him, the woman scowls.  “I told you–”

I smirk.  “Or her hips.  You can never be sure these days.”

He almost lunges at me, but the woman holds him back.  She shakes her head.  “Wolliver’s still in the square.  Catch him if you can.”

They disappear before I can demand anything more.

I take Tolly’s hand and hug him, tears dripping from my eyes onto his shoulders.  “I’m sorry that took so long.”

He shakes his head.  “You still saved me.”

“Is your throat okay?”

Grimace.  “Nothing Wren can’t fix.”

“I’ll get the Red.”  I pat him on the shoulder.  “You rest.”

He gives me a pained smile.  “No.  You need it too, please–”

“Hush.” I slide his eyes shut.  “I’ll be back for you, I promise.”  

It’s a promise I manage to keep as I drag back Wolliver kicking and screaming.

Chapter Text

Mare

She meets me in the shadows, the alleys of the courtyard that seldom catch the eye.  There were more Newbloods this morning, a man whose skin was smooth as glass and hard as diamond.  He glared at us, me most of all.  I couldn’t help but glare back.  “I don’t trust you.”  My grip on her hand is iron, my smile a knife.  "You know that?"

Elane laughs.  "I would be a fool to guess otherwise."

A flicker of movement catches my eye, a head of sandy hair in the background.  Too tall to be Lupa.  Too bold to be a servant.  A noble without the good sense to stay away.

I snarl.  “Who’s your friend?”

She startles.  Her eyes flicker to where I’ve pointed, widening.  “Stay away from her.”  Elane tugs my sleeve.  “We’re not friends.  We’re not even enemies."

I blink.  Elane’s perfect mask has slipped, ghostly as Maven’s for the first time.  What demons lie beneath her smile?

I don’t want to find out.

Anabel’s estate was too far for my liking, an hour of Elane studying my face and peppering me with questions.  Most were benign, such as how I found Whitefire, but others were more sinister, such as whether Maven had promised the Newbloods any titles.  I don’t engage, smiling until my face falls off.

The iron gates loom darker than before, the flames starker and more ominous.  I find myself edging closer to Elane, who studies her nails and pretends I don’t exist.  My silence must’ve offended her.

A squeak resounds through the transport, and I stiffen.  “What was that?”

“The wheels.”  Elane waves a lazy hand.   “They do that sometimes.”

It’s my turn to squeak.  “What?”

“Don’t worry.  Usually there’s no accident.”  She props up her chin.  “Usually.”

I jolt, clutching the door.  “I’m getting out.”

“We’re already here.”  Her hand grips mine as if afraid I’ll flee.  “Keep to the walls.  We don’t want to be thrown out before we have an audience.”

My feet stumble onto the pavement, hands flinging against the iron bars.  Elane leads me through the gates, falling behind once we enter.  Our footsteps are louder than I expect, a strange echo off the marble.  I swallow.  “You ready?”

She chuckles.

I clutch my hand to my heart as we make our way through the halls, forcing myself not to glance behind.  At some point, the echo stops, and I keep moving.  Anabel’s chambers are guarded by sentinels, and they frown as I knock.  They don’t say anything.

“Elane.”  I turn behind me, but there’s only air.

Well.

Not quite.

 Lupa grips my hands.  “I can help, I swear, just–”

The door creaks.

I hold an arm to hide her, but it’s too late.  Anabel surveys us both, eyes darkening.  “You brought a Merandus here?”

“You recognized me?”  Lupa trips as she bows, stumbling into me.  I narrowly avoid knocking into Anabel, bowing against the door as my palms begin to sweat.  It had been her squeaking in the transport, not the wheels.  Elane must still be behind us.

I swat at the air, lunging, but she’s quicker, already long gone.  Anabel watches me, skrunkling her brow.  “Did you wish to bring me to your side by force?”

“I–”  There is nothing left to say.  Not anymore.  Even if I revealed the truth, I would be proving myself too gullible to trust.  I run, every sunbeam strengthening until they blind me.  I trip.

A voice echoes off the marble.  “Nothing personal, I promise.”

I laugh.  “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?”

“We could’ve been friends.”  Sadness, one I don’t trust.  “You shouldn’t fight Evangeline, Miss Barrow.  It only leads to heartache.”

I spit, and it lands on her cheek.  Her face darkens.  “Come back to the palace.”  Light twines around her fingers, sparkling like diamonds.  “Unless you think you can try again?”

“I’ve had enough.”  I spit again, but she ducks.  “I’ll be sure to mention this to Maven.”

She laughs.  “A king’s favor only extends so far.”

The transport ride is stiff and unyielding, even as Elane tries to make small talk.  I will not make the mistake of her company again.  No matter how she insists this is only business.

Lupa shuffles in place, fidgeting.  I glare as I never have before, a chance at power lost to the detriment of my new wards.  I cannot train them myself.  I don’t know how.

“We’re here.”  Elane finds the courage to speak again.  “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

I scoff.  “Are you?”

She sighs, shaking her head.  I am not worth wasting her breath for.  Lu grips my waist.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know–”

“Save it.”  I march off, crying into my sleeve.  I’m such a fool.  Even with my guard up, I manage to be tricked.  Even with my guard up, I manage to be betrayed.

The next day brings more Newbloods, a woman with explosive eyesight and a girl who can’t be more than fifteen.  She struggles as they haul her to the dias, as a strongarm tries to restrain her.  Her fists clench, and she breaks free, shouts ringing out as she speeds down the hall.

 making it halfway down the hall before.  They haul her back as she kicks, straining, eyes darting as they force her back to the dias.  “Stop!”  She thrashes, but it does no good.  “You can’t keep me–”

“Guards.”  I stand, barely breathing.  “Let–”

The words catch in my throat.  If I let her go, I risk looking weak, risk losing the standing of the Newbloods I have.  Lord Volo’s voice echoes in my head.  I force it out with a gnash of teeth.  “Stand down, girl.”  The command is rough, stilted, and I swallow.  “We’re here to help.”

The girl turns to me, darkening.  Her black-brown skin gleams with sweat, breath hitching as she slackens.  “Where’s my brother?”

“Doesn’t matter.”  I wave a hand, heart racing.  “You have the grain, don’t you?  He’ll be fine.”

“He’s at the front.  With the other fourteen year olds.”  She bites her lip, shoulders shaking.  “I’m not leaving until he’s with me.”

My teeth gnash.  “You’re not leaving at all.”

Evangeline leans closer.  “What shall we do with her, I wonder?  A cell would do her nicely.”

I snarl.  “She stays here.  In the meantime–”   My hand sweeps to Maven.  “Double her grain.  That should placate her.”

Volo frowns.  “Do not order us about, Red.”

“Done.”  Maven studies his nails.  “Thank you, Ambassador.”

The girl bites her lip, looking away, clutching her arm as she’s escorted off the dais.  My nails dig into my skin as she leaves, hollow and haunted.  I can’t look back.

 I think her name was Cameron.

“Next.”  I sound dead inside.  I certainly feel it.

A boy steps forward, and my heart skips a beat.  I know those eyes.  I know that hair.  I know that skin, that smile, that voice.  Shade looks up at me and announces his ability, a fake name and a lie for a backstory.  Beside me, Lupa stiffens.

She knows.  She’s gonna sell us out.

But she only nods, telling Maven he speaks true and saying no more.  He doesn’t question her.  He has no cause to.  Any deception would reflect poorly on me.

It is then that another woman steps forward.  Long sandy blonde, built like a string bean, a startling resemblance to Lupa, who lights up at her appearance.  “Gwendolyn Samos.  Former general, and Lady of House Merandus.”  Her eyes shine.  “I have come to assist Ambassador Barrow in training her new wards.  Permission?”

Maven nods to me.  “Accepted.  Ambassador?”

My eyes dart from her to Lupa, mother and daughter, an apology I can't afford not to accept.  I take her hand.  "Welcome."

"Thank you."  She grips it so tight I fear my fingers might break.  "Let's burn this place to the fucking ground."

Chapter Text

Evangeline

My parents think I don’t listen.  That my loyalty begins and ends with the crown, and they must threaten it to keep me in line.  But I am a Samos before Evangeline, daughter of fangs and steel above all else.  My ears are always open, my eyes wide for treason, my blades perked and ready for any flesh it must tear.

So when Mare swears in her newest underling, I study him.  Something tugs at his face, the shadows of familiarity, snapping into focus as he faces me.  Shade , the woman called him.  Someone who cared enough to ask of the lightning girl.

I grin.

Maven sneers as I approach, my dress shifting from chainmail to spikes.  “What is it, Lady Samos?”

“There’s a traitor in our midst.”  My lip curls.  “And Ambassador Barrow has just let him into our court.

Murmurs ripple through the council, and Maven juts his chin.  “Oh?  Lay out your proof, my dear.”

“I saw him on my mission.”

“Hmm.”  He tilts his head.  “I don’t believe you.”

My fists curl.  Around us, the council jitters, itching for a fight.  “My word is worth its weight in gold.”

“Such a shame that sound weighs nothing.”  He’s enjoying this far too much.  “Lupa, darling, does she speak true?”

She quivers.  “No.”

I sneer.  “You dare call me a liar?”

Maven sniffs.  “You have plenty of reasons to paint Ambassador Barrow as one.”

The sound of nails on metal shrieks through the room, Father folding his hands as Governor Laris begins to protest.  Maven barely reacts, gaze trained on me as my fists clench at my sides.  Bastard.  He knows what he’s doing.

And he knows I can only do so much to stop him.

My breath hitches as someone catches my eye, a turn of a head and a blink of dark eyes.  Gwendolyn Samos peers down at me, unblinking.  Elane told me how she was wandering free.  How she had lurked in the shadows, closer than she should’ve been able to dare.  Mare has drawn her out of hiding.  And if I can’t make Maven bend to my will . . . 

I might as well scare her back in.

I dismount from the dais, pinning my hair back and sliding a razor to my wrist.   There is much I could promise her, but not much I could threaten to take away.  Her life is all that’s left.

Does she even value it?

I shudder.

I expect her to keep to the shadows, not stride into the open.  Not laugh, shaking Mare’s hand and hauling Lu in her arms.  She was a general once.  Now she fights again.

Shade twitches as I approach.  He called Mare something, the hint of a secret, a relation I can easily judge from their faces.  An older brother, a protector, someone who would separate her from Maven at all costs.  If I can’t kill him, I will use him.

“Evangeline.”  Mare grits her teeth.  “You’re not welcome here.”

“Shame you can’t enforce that.”  I grin.  “Lady Gwendolyn, if you will?”

She perks, turning from the man she was coaching to gaze upon my face.  “Evangeline!”  Her face alights.  “How nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.”  My voice holds no warmth.  “May we talk in private?”

Her head tilts.  “What do you plan to say?”

I sniff.  “Come with me, and find out.”

The Reds eye me with caution, and I sneer.  They’ll meet their end soon enough.  Elara won’t stay away forever, no matter how Maven wishes her to.  Strange, his desire to hide from his own mother.

Gwendolyn meets me in the corner, jittering.  I caress the razor with a smile.  “Out of hiding, are we?”

“I was hidden from you, dear, not the other way around.”  She has the gall to smile.  “How does Larentia fare?”

I stiffen.  “My mother is none of your business.”

“Didn’t stop her from rumors of me, did it?”  There was a bitter edge to her, a knife hidden beneath her smile.  “She helmed the search for me, you know.”

“As was her right.”

“What do you want?”  She towers over me, eyes that have no right to judge me so.  “Samos always has its motives.”

“We can let you in again.”  My voice is honey, my smile soft sympathy.  “We’ve kept you out for far too long.  You have children now, insurance of loyalty.  Your sins are long in the past by now.”

She tilts her head.  “As are yours.”

I scoff.  “ My actions are only crimes to the weak.”  My eyes narrow.  “Are you weak, Lady Gwendolyn?”

She sniffs, turning away.  “I will not quit, not for Samos.  Maven is the only one to let my daughter into court.  My loyalty begins and ends with him.”

In the corner of my eye, Shade watches us.

I spin around, marching up to him.  My blade slides along his neck, and Gwendolyn jolts, her ability twitching as she fights for control of it.  She is strong, I’ll give her that.  Strong enough to wrench it from my gasp so it slides within her armor.  She doesn’t dare threaten me.  Not when I will still be queen.

My lips curls.  “Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

“Better than a fallen queen.”  Shade smiles, and I want to claw it off.  “Shall we walk, Lady Samos?”

I straighten.  What he thinks to hang over me, I don’t know.  But one wrong step, and I will make him bleed.

Chapter Text

Mare

“Burning this place to the fucking ground,” however, seemed to involve a lot less gasoline and a lot more abandoning-me-in-the-middle-of-Training-to-chat-with-my-sworn-enemy.  Silvers.  I hurl a lightning bolt at my target as our last conversation plays in my mind.

“Do you know what happens when Samos forsakes you?"  She'd stared me in the eye.  "You want revenge."

She told me the story of how she fled, her dead lover, the way she was married to a Merandus as punishment.  Little did they know what a mistake they made.

“Artemy was kind, awkward, the black sheep of the family who married out of curiosity.  When I first met him, I shielded myself in forks and knives, nearly skewering him on first sight.  He went into my mind only to halt my blade inches from his throat. But he didn’t retaliate.”  Tears streamed from her eyes.  “He only asked me not to strike him.”

Behind me, Nix coughs.  “Are you going to help us, or just stand there?”

Anger rises within me, anger I have to squash.  Shade is nowhere to be seen, not since I hugged him and whispered three sentences between us.  I breathe in and out.  “Let’s name our abilities.”

One by one, they approach, Ada at the front of the line.  I don’t know how to train her.  I don’t know how to train anyone.  But just as I begin to lose myself to my own thoughts,  Gwendolyn returns, grazing my shoulder with a firm hand.  “I’ll take it from here.”

I exhale.

Shade had few words when I had taken him aside, too wary to speak of his motives.  He’s here for me, I know, but that can’t be the only thing.  Can’t be all that he’s risking his life for.

A voice rises from behind me.  “So will I.”  Her voice is hard as Evangeline’s, yet less refined, iron ore competing against a diamond.  “Run along, worm.”

I whip around to find Atara Viper standing behind me, far too smug and far too arrogant.  A dove nestles on her shoulder and tugs at her hair, chirping in an unsteady cadence.  “Who invited you?”

Her eyes narrow.  “Hold your insults, Barrow.”

“Ambassador.”

“Yeah, yeah, you slept with–”  A glare from Gwendolyn forces her to swallow.  “Earned your position with grace and dignity.”

“Smooth.”

She studies her nails.  “Evangeline needs to be put in her fucking place.”  A flick of her hand.  “A lot of court wants what she has.  And they don’t care who helps them get it.”

“Hmm.”  I tap my chin.  “Even a Red?”

“Even a Red.”  She grits her teeth.  “Dirty games need dirty players.”

I know.  I know, and yet I need confirmation.  “What do you want from me?”

“Your place as the king’s ear.”

“Not that.”  I wave a hand.  “You want more.  You all want more.”

For a moment, she hesitates.  This is a pride she doesn’t know how to swallow.  This is a hand she doesn’t want to reveal.  “To steal her throne.”

It grows hard to breathe.  “You want me to become queen.”

Gasps and whispers ripple behind me, and I whir around.  The newbloods have gathered to listen.  And not all of them are happy.

I swallow.  “And what would you have me do for you?”

“We can work that out later.”  She waves a hand.  “For now . . . “

In the glimpse of my eye, I catch Nix staring, face hard as I take in a breath.  Atara pays him no mind.  “I told him about that boy you were flirting with earlier.”

My head jerks.  “The what?”

“You know, the one you were whispering with.”  She has the audacity to smirk.  “Antoine, right?”

I barely bite back the urge to throttle her.  “You told Maven I was flirting with–”  My brother.  “Another boy?”

“I sure hope not.”  Maven nudges Atara aside, and her dove squawks in indignance.  “We both know that would be a lie.”

My heart pounds as I force myself to look him in the eye.  He knows something, if not all, and a part of me bursts to tell the truth.  But I know Shade came here from the guard.  I know he doesn’t need me blowing his cover.  And a jealous Maven may be dangerous, but more easily manipulated.

I’ll take the hour and see how it goes.

His fingers twitch, shaking as he ushers me into the corridor.  “You knew him.”

“And?”

“He knew you.”

My cheeks grow hot.  “I don’t see the problem.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Why not?  It’s what we’re good at.”

He pauses.  “What is he to you?”

Stupid boys play stupid games, but Maven is nothing if not intelligent.  He won’t target Shade if it’ll upset me.  “Someone very dear to me.”

Maven wraps an arm around my waist.  “Has he kissed you?”  A murmur, soft as a lullaby.  “Does he know these lips as I do?”

“Cal certainly does.”

“Cal isn’t here.”

“If he were."  I place a hand on his chest, feeling for the racing heart he cannot hide, the sharp intake of breath.  “Do you think I would choose him?”

The air grows cold.  “He wouldn’t choose you.”

“You didn’t either.”

“What is this, if not a choice?”  Maven takes my hand, pulling me into a waltz.  “What are you, if not a queen?”

“A prisoner.”

He growls.  “I won’t let them hurt you.”

I let go of his hand with a curtsey.  “We both know that’s a lie.”

“You are an ambassador.  A strike against you is a strike against me.”  Our fingers entwine as he spins me, a dip in his arms that leaves little space between us.  “Evangeline is many things, but she is not stupid.”

I lean closer, letting my breath feather against his lips.  “Ambassador.  Not a queen.”

“You’re wearing my house colors.”

My hand brushes along my gown, letting the rhinestones glitter in the light.  “I’m honoring my blood, and mourning your crimes.”

Maven catches it, brushing a kiss along my knuckles.  I can't help the shudder that runs through my body.  I hope he mistakes it for more.

“I’m glad you’ve kept the newbloods safe.”  My hand climbs to his shoulder, digging.  “But I can’t trust a boy who keeps information from me.”

He hesitates.  “Is this about Ara?  I told you, it’s sensitive.”

“Hmm.” I stroke his chin, watching his pupils dilate as I lean closer.  “Are you sensitive, Maven?  Something too secret to confess?”

Whatever retort he had has fled from his lips, searching for mine.  Our fingers entwine against the wall, against the cage we built for ourselves.  My head fits neatly in the curve of his neck.  “Tell me, and I’ll kiss you.”

Maven burns, lips parted, caught in a dance he doesn’t know the steps to.  “I can’t.”  The words are breathless, too breathless, his gaze too intense as he tilts my chin upwards.  “Can I kiss you anyway?”

Part of me wants to.  The part enchanted by his soft hands and velvet voice, by his quick tongue and desperate, desperate need to be loved.  The part that dies as I hiss against his ear.  “Say that again, and I’ll spit in your face.”

He laughs.  “You never change, do you?”

“Neither do you.”  I lean into his ear, nibbling.  “You’re still begging for affection from a girl who wants you dead.”

“Do you?”  His hands are warm, achingly so.  “Could you bear the cost of my absence?”

“Life would be so much simpler.”  I adjust our footing so I lead.  “I wouldn’t have Evangeline breathing down my neck.”

Maven tilts my chin, a long, slow blink.  “Would you be with that boy?”

I almost laugh.  “We’re very close.”

“You can’t marry him.”

My lips part, so close to brushing his.  “Could I marry you?”

His hands creep to pull me into a kiss, only for me to pull away.  I put a finger to his lips.  “Earn it, my darling.”

“She’s alive.”  The words are a rasp, a plea, a promise.  “That’s all I’ll say.”

I caress his cheek.  “That’s not enough.”

“It’s all I can give you.”  He pulls away.  “All that is safe to know.”

I want more.  More information, more of him, greedy, greedy hands that tear into his collar and yank him closer.  His breath feathers against my neck, a sharp gasp against my collar.  More.  I can get more, if I only–

“Excuse me.”  An angry voice cuts me to the bone.  “What is this?”

I turn to find Nix staring me down, his brows drawn tight and his arms drawn tighter.  Gwendolyn lurks behind him, tugging at his frame, but she is little protection from his wrath.  My throat bobs.  “Winning favor for you and the others?”

Maven chuckles.  “Rest assured, she’s succeeding.”

Gasoline on a furnace.  Nix cracks his knuckles, and the sentinels stiffen.  Maven tuts.  "Don't cause a fuss.  You wouldn't want your brethren to suffer, now, would you?"

I reach to twist his arm, seduction be damned, but Nix draws back.  He still glares.  His fists still clench.  But he retreats into the night, the only sign of his presence Gwendolyn’s shaken head.  “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.  I tried to restrain him.”

“No need.”  He waves her off.  “I expected this.”

I don’t move.  I only stare, unblinking, and wonder what new horrors I've unleashed.

Chapter Text

Evangeline

Shade shadows me, gliding as if he were Elane.  What his ability is, I don’t know.  I had been so focused on my vengeance I hadn’t listened to his introduction.  But it doesn’t take long for him to show off, disappearing when I lunge for his arm and reappearing just out of reach.  It’s a game, one where I thought I held all the cards.

He leans against the wall.  “You can’t kill me.”

“I figured.”

“But we have goals in common.”

I laugh.  “I sincerely doubt that.”

"I don't want him fucking with my sister.  You don't want him fucking with my sister."

Sniff.  "Hold the 'with', dear.”

He ignores me, sliding along the edge of the wall.  His uniform is oddly spotless, gleaming as no rebel’s attire should.  I scowl.  “You stole those clothes, didn’t you.”

Shade hums, skipping.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were living in a mud camp.”

He chuckles.  “So you say.”

“Whatever,” I hiss.  “What business do you have here?  Besides scheming with that sister of yours.”

“Now, why would I spoil the fun?”  His smile doesn’t waver, yet it no longer reaches his eyes.  “Unless you have something to offer.”

I could kill him.  I could slip a blade from my shoulder and take his head, leaving all to mourn his absence.  Though “mourn” might be the wrong word.  “Nothing I would be willing to give.”

“What a shame.”  He rounds the corner, only to draw back, flattening against the wall.  A chill creeps through the air, growing deeper as I stride forward.  Shade holds up a hand.  “Don’t.”

I breeze past him with a sniff, peering down the corridor to find Mare and Maven entangled against the wall.  Their voices are muffled, yet still audible.  Maven shakes.  “You knew him.”

Mare studies her nails.  “And?”

“He knew you.”

I watch as they dance around each other, as Shade grows stiffer and stiffer until he seems to break.  She asks about Ara Iral.  She gets no answer.

“I must say, she’s sharper than I expected.”   I chuckle.  “Still hasn’t managed to make him kneel, though.”

Shade gnashes his teeth, and I wonder if he’ll bite his tongue off.  “He’s using her.”

“She’s using him.”

“This isn’t right.”  He bites his lip.  “My sister is not a toy.”

I shrug.  "She's certainly not a queen."

"No."  He crouches, ready to pounce.  "Not if I have any say in it."

"You don't."  I haul him backwards.  “You’re barely welcome here as it is.  You piss off the king, you say goodbye to your head.”

“Better than saying goodbye to Mare.”

I hiss.  "If anyone blows your cover, it's going to be me."

Shade looks at me, startled.  “Why?”

“Because you’re not a threat, now, are you?”  I flash my teeth.  “You want what I want: Mare gone, far from my throne, without any newbloods to call her own.”

His eyes darken.  “We are not toys.”

“Ask Maven.”  I lean back, studying my nails.  “I'm sure he has thoughts about that."

He wavers.  "Ara Iral.  Who is she?"

I twirl the nearest blade.  "The greatest spy of her generation, slain on one of her missions.  Missing, you could say."

His brow furrowed.  "He said she was alive."

"Good news for me."

"If we find her, Mare might leave with me."  His eyes bore into mine.  "You wouldn't have to worry she'll take your place."

I sniff.  "She couldn't if she tried."

"Why risk it?"

I pause.  There's little reason to refuse, not when I already plan to find her.  “Come with me.  And keep quiet.”

“Come with me, Volo, and keep quiet.”

Mother beckoned past me, a cluck of tongue and quiet unease.  The day had started without me, Tolly long off to helm the search for Cal.  I straightened.  “May I come with?”

She waved a hand.  “Sit, my dear.”

“I am to be queen.”  I bit my lip.  “How can I serve this house if I don’t know its secrets?”

She hesitated, on the brink, yet something made her draw back.  “Why don’t you busy yourself with Corros?”

I blinked.

“Surely you’ve heard of Corros?”  She pursed her lips.  “The prison we built, by order of the king.”

I had not.  Nor did I hear much of their conversation, however much I strained to hear it.  I caught wind of “Anabel” and “girl”, and my mind flickered back to Barrow.  How she had visited her, some foolish hope, and came away with empty hands.  Perhaps they weren’t as empty as I thought.

Shade presses forward as I linger behind, thick doors looming up ahead.  We’ve left the palace for the road to Delphie, the faint scent of death and decay in the air.  I grab his arm.  “Stay behind me.”

He nods, prying my fingers away.  I tighten my grip.  “You’re not running loose here.”

Smirk.  “No intent to.”

This was a bad idea.  Still, I stride through the gates, flashing my Samos colors to anyone who dares question us.  I am Evangeline.  I am their hope.  I am the taste of what power they could have.  And I have every intent on wielding it.

“Give me a tour.”  My chin juts, Shade sweating beneath my palm.  “Make it thorough.”

One by one, he shows us the cells.  One by one, Silver captives glare at us.  But there is one cell they will not show me.  One cell I take into my own hands.

One cell that Cal stares at me from, burning in the night.

Chapter Text

Mare

The other newbloods stare in Training, sharpening their eyes on the wheatstone of my failures.  Gwendolyn is cheerful as ever, picking up Lupa and ruffling her hair.  Her arms ripple with muscle as she sets her down, grinning like a fire has scorched her enemies to ashes.  I don’t trust her.  I can’t.  Yet I have no other options, Anabel long faded to dust on the wind.

I clench my fist.  It doesn’t matter.  I won’t let it.

None of it will matter when I am queen.

The thought startles me, moreso when Lupa glances my direction.  She heard.  She must’ve.  My thoughts are dangerous enough in my head: I can’t let them run in the open.  Still, I step towards her, shaking, a message to the Newbloods who keep looking my way.  I am not afraid.  You shouldn’t be either.

Her eyes are downcast as I approach, fingers fiddling with her sheer white ribbon.  She dresses plainer than anyone else at court, so fixated on splendor they dwarf those merely fine.  “I’m sorry.”

I jolt.

“I got you in trouble, didn’t I?  At the Lerolan estate.”  She bites her lip.  “I was so excited, I didn’t mean–”

My words are matter of fact.  “You asked your mom to help me.”

She freezes, then nods.  “Family is very important to me.  To you.  To all of us.”  Her voice is shaky, uncertain.  “His name is Shade, right?”

“Antoine.”

“Right.”  She closes her eyes.  “That’s the name he gave.”

“The name you verified.”

“I miss my dad.”  Her eyes flutter, squeezing shut.  For once, my head doesn’t pound when she’s near, still as a butterfly settling on a leaf.  “You miss him.”

I don’t respond.

“You love him.”

“Quiet,” I hiss.  Maven lurks in every corner of my vision, so close to swallowing me whole.  “Do you not understand what a secret is?”

That shuts her up.  She goes back to picking at her ribbon, staring into the distance.  “That girl.”  She points to the Newbloods, one of whom has begun to shout incoherently.  “I can’t read her.”

“Of course you can’t.”  I huff, raking a hand through my hair.  The gray ends remain, no matter how Maven urges me to chop them off.  “She’s like an Arven.  Stronger, even.”

She nods, eyes flickering to mine.  “I heard her talking, earlier.  She wanted to leave, to find someone left behind.”

He’s at the front.  With the other fourteen year olds.

My hands waver, but I can’t let them shake.  Can’t let them see my wavering resolve.  I sigh.  “Don’t we all?”

Lupa sharpens.  “You should help her.”

My bottom lip tears in my teeth.  “I should do a lot of things.”  I turn around.  “You’re Silver, Merandus.  You don’t know this fight like I do.”

“I–”  Her mouth shuts.  “You might want to rethink that.”

I look up, glancing at the Newbloods, two groups huddled on opposite sides of the room.  Both are staring.  Only one is friendly.

I swallow.  “Hello.”

No one responds, still whispering amongst themselves.  I catch the words queen and traitor , ice sinking into my veins.  Finally, Ada pokes her head out, smiling.  “Hello, my dear.”

On the other side of the room, Nix prowls, marching towards us with other Newbloods in tow.  He snarls at me, teeth bared.  “Could you explain what exactly you’re aiming for?”

Lupa pokes her head from behind me.  “Not being scary?”

For once, I’m grateful she’s there, as all his rage fixes past me to her.  She shrinks, gripping my sleeve.  “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, he seems to soften.  But only for a moment.  The next, he gestures to those behind him, skin crackling into hard, smooth armor.  Ironskin.   Above my head, the chandelier creaks, metal swaying in an invisible breeze.

Then, it explodes.

Shards rain down on us before they hover in midair, the metal weaving into sheets that hold back the glass.  Gwendolyn hisses into focus, pushing past Wolliver only to meet the wall that is Nix.  “This is not authorized.”

Wolliver pokes his head out from behind her, a flame igniting in his palm.  “We don’t take orders from you.”

The metal melds with the glass to form a snake, slithering down to coil at Gwendolyn’s waist.  “You are still Red, Newblood.  This court does not yet have a place for you.”

“It never will.”  Nix grabs the snake and attempts to throw it, only for it to slither out of the way.  The body is thin, but dozens of feet long, slithering to his neck and wrapping around it.  She’s trying to asphyxiate him.

It isn’t working.

The snake cracks against his skin, snapping in two, then three, then twelve.  He throws it at her, and it shatters, shards spiraling off in all directions.  One flies into his mouth.

Another embeds in my forehead.

I wrench it out, blood dripping down my palm.  Sparks crackle from my toes to my hair, sizzles of purple that won’t calm down.  They are mine.  They reflect me and my aims, and I cannot allow them to waste what we’ve gained.

“You’re a whisper.”  I grab Lupa, shoving her towards the fight.  “Do something!  Make them calm down!”

Gwendolyn flicks a hand, and Nix chokes, silver metal and Silver pride.  His hand claws down his throat, and I grip her arm.  “Stop this.  Both of you.”

Her eyes snap to me, thunderous and wild.  “Ambassador Barrow, do not both-sides this.”

“I can, and I will.”  I tighten my grip.  “You are my general.  I am not yours.”

She bristles.  “I belong to no one and nothing.”  Her fingers clench at the air.  “You should know that by now.”

I did.  I did, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to care.  “I speak for the king, Lady Samos.”

Her eyes darken.  Behind her, Nix continues to choke, gasping and retching as the metal refuses to come out.  “So you do.”  It’s barely a whisper.  “So you do.”

Finally, Nix coughs up the shard, blood seeping from his lips.   It seems his insides are not as iron as his outsides.  Gwendolyn extends a hand.  “Now, now.  Did I tell you you could breathe?”  She gestures to the metal, but it doesn’t move.  “What the–?”

“Don’t.”  The voice comes from behind us, soft as a whisper, yet strong as a scream.  The girl (Cameron.  Her name is Cameron.) from before clutches her chest.  “Release us, or I’ll–”  Her fingers tightened, and Gwendolyn doubled over.  Cameron’s voice grew strained.  “I’ll kill you.”

Lupa lunges at her, grabbing her collar, collapsing to her knees.  “No.”  She trembles.  “You don’t want to, I know you don’t, I–”  A gasp of air.  “I know where Morrey is.”

Cameron stills.

I swallow.  “Who’s Morrey?”

“Her brother.”  The words come out in a rush.  “I heard of him from the minds around her.  He’s at the front, with the other fourteen year olds.”  Her eyes are wild.  “We can save him.  Please.”

Cameron stares at Lupa, shaking.  “How?”

Lupa gestures to me.  “She has the king at her side.”  It becomes hard to breathe.  “She can change things, I know she can.”  She grabs my hand.  “You’re in love, aren’t you?”

“I–”

Gwendolyn rises to her feet.  “A brother.”  She  exhales.  “I don’t have any.  But I can still pull some favors.”

“And doom the rest of his legion?”  Cameron sharpens.  “I’m not delusional.  I don’t think replacing Silvers with Newbloods will change things.”

“I–”  My fists clench as I wrench away from Lupa.  “I’m not going to be queen.”

“But you want to be.”

Ada steps in, biting her lip.  “It’s not nothing.  We need power if anything will change.”

“Prove it.”  Her teeth gnash.  “Prove you can do something, anything for us besides take power for yourself.”

I stare her in the eye.  “I can lift the measures.”

Nix spits at me, still bleeding.  “You think you can control that Silver of yours?

“Watch me.”  The words hiss between my teeth.  “He’s mine.  He told me as much.”

“Where, between the sheets?”

I bristle.  “What I do with my body is none of your business.”  A step forward.  “I will be the ambassador you need.  No matter what it costs me.”

I know you’ll never love me, Mare.  But I can live with you using me.

It’s about time I tested the limits of that.

Chapter Text

Mare

Shade runs into me on the way, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me into the nearest servant’s passage.  “Mare, I found–”  He swallows.  “I found a way out.  For both of us.”

I draw back.  Chatter rises from the nearby corridor, nobles milling through the halls without care for the Reds around them.  “What do you mean?”

“This newblood, he took me aside and–”  His breath hitches.  “He promised a paradise.  He promised shelter, a new land, one where Reds are free and Silvers live beside them.  That any newblood could follow him to and aid the rebellion from afar.”

My nerves stand on end.  “As a coward?”

“As a survivor.”  He cups my cheek.  “I want you to go.  I can stay behind, but you–”  A clenched fist.  “You’re not safe here.  Not with him.”

I bristle.  “You mean Maven?”

“Yes.”  Shade frowns.  “You don’t need him, not anymore.”

“How would you know?”  My spine grows stiff, a courtly habit that’s becoming second nature.  “You haven’t seen me at work, Shade.  You don’t know what he’s willing to do to keep me.”

“What about Elara?”  His voice is pained, on the verge of cracking.  “She’s going to come back, Mare.  Are you ready for that?”

My hands tremble, and I curse them.  “I can’t leave until the Measures are gone.”

“They won’t be.  Not in time.”  He pulls me closer.  “It’s ok to run, Mare.  You don’t need to be a martyr.”

I stare him in the eye.  “And if I became queen?”

He grows still.  “No.”

“No what?”  I pull away.  “No, you won’t stand by me?  No, you won’t let me help?”

“No, I won’t let you put yourself in that much danger.”  Shade hardens.  “He’s a liar, Mare.  Whatever he promised you, it won’t come true.”

I burn.  “You think I’m in love.”

“I think you’re naive.  And if you are . . .”  He scowls.  “Excuse me if I don’t want my sister falling for a tyrant with every reason to use and discard her.”

I’ve had enough, enough to whip around and stomp away.  It does me good to have red cheeks, to catch Maven with them on the way to Council.  Maybe Elara will come back.

But maybe I can set her son against her.

I trail after him long past the point of propriety, chuckling when he finally takes me aside.  “Bit desperate, aren’t we?”

He sighs.  Around him, papers flutter, caught in a breeze from a nearby window.  “She’s imprisoned.”  His fingers trace my chin.  “Lady Iral.  The same prison we might use for your newbloods, should your plan fall through.”

Anger rises within me, and I squash it.  I can’t let myself feel, not here.  “ Our plan.”  A hand on his chest.  “We’re in this together, Maven.”  I breathe, soft and slow.  “You know it helps you as much as me.”

He closes his eyes.  “We are.”  The words brush against me, fleeting as a feather.  “It makes me want to kiss you.”

“Not yet.”  I draw back.  “Not until–”

“Mare, my sweet, be patient.”  His fingers graze my shoulders.  “Open up for me, and I will open for you.”

I stiffen.  Don’t feel.  Don’t feel.

I feel anyway.

My foot collides with his, tripping him onto the desk as my arms close around him.  We’re not touching, not anymore, but we’re damn close, a hair’s width apart as I stare down at him.  He pants, hard and fast.  “I’m not afraid of you, Mare,”

“Hmm.”  My thumb strokes his chin, testing.  “What of my wicked ways?  The ones your mother tried to protect you from?”

He falters, biting his lip, hands digging into my hip as his eyes grow wide and dark.  I aimed for a nerve.  I seem to have struck it.

“Maybe I don’t need protection.”  He pulls me closer, close enough to feel his cool breath against my lips.  “Maybe I enjoy having a snake in my bed.”

I hiss.

Maven laughs.  “Softer, dear.  You sound like a cat.”

I yank his collar, nails scraping the delicate flesh of his neck.  “Is that soft enough for you, my king ?”

His breath hitches.  “Say that again.”

“My tyrant.”  It feels good to scratch him.  “My traitor.”  It feels better to bite him.  “My corruption.”

He caresses my jaw.  “My queen.”

“Your ruin.”

Scoff.  “I can handle you.”

“You barely handle yourself.”  I shake my head.  “Three months into your reign, and you’ve already botched an execution, incited riots, and angered all of court.  Say what you will of Cal, at least he would’ve been competent.”

“Hmm.”  His eyes narrow.  “Where is Cal?  Probably huddled in a bunker somewhere, forced to bump shoulders with the Reds he claims to love.  I suspect he prefers them gowned and jeweled.”

“You’re no better.”

He chuckles.  “Yet here you are.”

“The other option was death, and you took it away.”

“We can always bring it back.”

I laugh.  “Nice try.  We both know you’re too lonely to dare.”

Maven pauses. “Perhaps.”  He wavers.  “You would’ve won, if I tossed you in the arena.”  Softness.  “Even without your powers, you’d have found a way.”

For a moment, I almost kiss him.  Let myself believe the old Maven has returned, that the desk is the wooden boards of a ship, the papers crashing waves.  I won’t lose you , he promised.  It didn’t stop me from losing him.

“You would’ve been next.”  I caress his cheek, letting the words sink in at any cost.  “Sizzled in the stands, the price of your hubris.

He sighs.  “I would’ve deserved it.”

“You still do.”  I stand upright, seduction be damned.  “One day, I’ll make sure you know how it feels to burn.”

“I don’t doubt it.”  Maven rests his chin in his palm, gazing up at me through long lashes.  He knows what he’s doing.  I know too, and yet I can’t help the flutter which roils my stomach.  “If I must die, it might as well be by your hand.”

“Not sure what’s stopping me.”  My heart pounds as he nestles against my chest.  “Nothing but your crown.”

“Would you like it?”  He curls a hand in my hair.  “I can learn to share.”

“Your mother won’t.”

His eyes burn, fists clenched, staring at some point in the distance.  “She’ll see the allies you’ve gained, the army you’ve trained, the web we’ve woven between ourselves.  You’ll be more trouble to get rid of than it’s worth.”

“What if she doesn’t?”  My fingers snare in his tempest of curls.  “Who would you choose?"

“We’re not arguing about this.”

I sit upright.  “Why not?”

“Because it won’t happen.”  Maven brushes me off him.  “I won’t let it.”

“What are you afraid of?”  I snarl, barely holding back the need to beat the answer out of him.  “You’re king, Maven.  Your mother is not your master.”

“You don’t know what she’s capable of.”  There it is again, the tremble, the quake, the hint of something I’ve never been able to grasp.  “I’ve held her back this long, Mare.  She doesn't take disobedience lightly."

“What a tyrant.”

“She is.  And so am I.”  He straightens.  “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?  You think I don’t know you want the Measures revoked?”

I stumble backwards.  “How–”

“Your brother told me.”  His eyes gleam.  “He asked me to keep my hands off you.  I told him you’ve often asked me otherwise.”

I almost lunge for his throat, barely restraining myself as I yank his collar.  “What are you afraid of, Maven?”

“Nothing.  Not even Cal.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Something cracks in him, a realization he will not confront.  He stays silent, and I come to a realization of my own.

I squint.  "It’s Elara, isn’t it?  That she’ll hurt you, hurt me, just to maintain any control she can.”

In school, we learned of the gods before us.  But we learned of monsters too, of serpents and women with snakes for hair, who turned all who looked upon them to stone.  What must it have been, to gaze upon a face so frozen in horror?

He shakes his head.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I arch a brow.  “You don’t deny it.”

“Mother hurts everyone, Mare.  It’s her nature.”  Maven edges towards the door, but my foot lands atop his.  “But it’s always for the best.  And she’s family, Mare.”

“You murdered your father!”

“Correction:  Cal murdered my father.”

“You’re a coward, Maven.  At least I don’t hide that I’m afraid.”  I grip his arm, snarling.  “You hold our lives in our hands.  Have the decency to not lie to yourself.”

He gazes outside, at the servants panicking in the courtyard.  “Mare . . . “

Before I can fire back, a door creaks open, a servant whispering in his ear as a grin spreads across his face.  He turns to me.  “Let’s pick this up later.  We have bigger plans now.”  Maven grips my hands, nearly jumping in his joy.  “Evangeline just dug her own grave.”

Chapter Text

Evangeline

I lurch from the bars, head spinning.  Perhaps I imagined it.  Perhaps he’s already dead, already buried in some unmarked Red grave.  But Samos eyes are not known for playing tricks.

A hand raises towards me in the darkness, milk-white and shivering.  Cal can’t feel the cold, but he still knows fear, how it shakes the body and muddies the mind.  I can’t imagine spending my nights in a cell.  Can’t imagine falling so far from grace.

His voice is hoarse.  “Evangeline.”

My lip almost tears in my teeth.  “Cal.”

“You helmed the search for me.”  It isn’t a question.  “You killed a seventeen-year-old.”

“A Red.”  I study my nails.  “Under orders.”

“It was supposed to be Mare.”  The words are sad, defeated.  “She let him win her over, and another girl paid the price.”

I tilt my head.  “Strange.”  My hand feathers along the bars.  “I don’t know of this deal you speak of.”

“He intended to kill us both.”  Cal stares at my hand, but doesn’t take it.  “Then Mare said she used to love him.  I think–”  He looks away.  “I think that broke him.”

I scoff.  “What an idiot.”

“He seemed desperate.”  His hands wring the bars.  “He thinks I didn’t love him.”

Softness creeps into my voice.  “You know that isn’t true.”

“Do they know I’m here?”  His eyes dart, knuckles white.  “No one seems to recognize me.”

At last, my fingers close over his.  “The smart ones do.  And the smart ones keep their mouths shut.”

Cal draws a breath, sharp and labored.   “He can’t bring himself to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”  I tighten my grip on his hand.  “Maven is not your little brother, Cal.  Not anymore.”

A wince.  “You don’t know him like I do.”

“I’m not sure you know him at all.”

He scowls.  “What are you here for?”

“Ara Iral.”  I taste the name like it will win me another crown.  “The Panther.  Our greatest spy.  And a nuisance Elara had cause to neutralize.”

His lips parted.  “You think I know where she is?”

“Do you?”

He averts his eyes, staring at the bars.  “Julian’s here.  Maven told me so himself.”

I step back, letting go of his hand.  “So he’s been down here.”

“He says he wants to kill me, but he needs to wait.”  It was hard to see, but his throat seemed to bob.  “That Elara will kill me with the sword Father died by.”

“ The sword he died by .”  I caress the blades at my wrist.  “You were holding it.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“I know.”  I eye him one last time before I turn around.  “None of us do, Calore.”

The last name stings, and I know it, my Samos cruelty ringing hollow in my bones.  Father taught my heart to be iron.  Mother taught my fangs how to hiss.  But Elane taught me to let light in my soul, to not confine myself to shadows of power and might.

I clutch my chest, growling.  Musings will not bring me closer to the truth, nor will waiting for it to pass me by.  I march, my cousins lining the walls as I pass.  The metal bars have no doors, no locks, only rising and falling at our command.  Samos holds the key to this prison.  Samos holds the keys to Maven’s power.

My teeth gnash.  He can’t get rid of me, no matter how he tries to supplant me with Barrow.  She is useless, dirt on his shoe, only here by some promise she whispered in his ear.  Desperate fool.  Taking after his father in the worst of ways.

But I don’t leave.  Not yet.  I halt at the foot of another cell, this one smaller and more cramped than the others.  I didn’t get a good look inside, too distracted by the gleam of what was ahead.  But sure enough, Jacos paces inside, Skonos laying on the bed behind him.  They make a poor sight, tattered and frail, and I force myself to look away.  Their presence is no mystery.  Their presence builds no allies.

My blades tremble, on the verge of falling.  I should blame the stone, but I know it’s my nerves, failing to harden in the face of Cal’s sorrow.  He doesn’t deserve this.  I don’t deserve this, the gentle erosion of all I was raised for.

He calls them Newbloods.   Mother’s sneer echoes in my mind.  I call them rats.

Lady Iral’s cell is spacious, but still punishing, the stone thicker than the others I’ve passed.  She lies on the floor, attempting sit ups, barely succeeding even with her rich training.  Her eyes catch mine, legs tucking under her as she sits upright.  “Lady Samos.”

I fold my arms.  “Lady Iral.”

“You should’ve been queen by now.”  Her eyes trace over me, sharp.  “It’s what Cal would have done.”

“He’s dead.”

“Hmm.”  Her hands curl against the ground before she stands. “You keep his secrets.”  She prowls, a stilted grace, fiercer than any other prisoner by far.  “Maven won’t keep yours.”

I shrug as if it rolled off me.  “I don’t give him them.”

“I saw Gwendolyn.”  Her gaze doesn’t waver.  “She patrols, sometimes, and tells the others of her rebellion.  That it takes only one move to set them all free.”

I still.  “Why don’t they report her?”

She laughs.  “You think it would matter?”

It stings far more than it should.  I turn back, prepared to leave, but something stops me.  Something that curls around the bars and wants them to break.

I can’t let myself fall to Maven and Barrow’s scheming.  I can’t let myself abandon Cal to a fate that does not serve me.  I can’t let myself be overrun by this new tide of strange Reds.

Maybe that’s why I pray my cousins do not fail me.  Perhaps that’s why I turn around to stare Lady Iral in the eye.

Perhaps that’s why the gate to her cell starts to rise.

Chapter Text

Jon

She knows who I am.  That much is clear.  I cannot falter one step without her snapping at my heels, a vengeance for crimes I have not committed.  Unless defying her is a crime.  It might as well be.

Naercy was a good choice: alleys aplenty, deafening noise, too many people for my mind to stick out.  She may shake her fist all she likes.  It won’t make her search go faster.

But her anger has claws, and they rake across all they see.  Flames upon my village, Beatrix in their wake.  A dead future.  Deader still.  Our two sons turn to ash that will never be.  I keep moving regardless.

I wonder what she wants from me.  Does she expect me to fill the void that dwells within her, the way the crown could not?  The way her son did, before she decided he too was not enough, a project she needed to polish to perfection.

It doesn’t matter how high you rise, I want to whisper.  It will never be enough.

But I cannot risk her refusal to answer, her fist clamping on my skull as she rummages through my mind.  I must keep moving until my legs wear out, until I have no choice but to snuff out my own candle.

My bones ache with every step, with every sleepless night, with every bloodstained memory which hauls me out of bed.  I am too old for this chase.  Too old to play Protagonist in a story of my own making.  Yet I am the only one capable of it.

The Guard finds me before she does, letting me go without much question.  A rambling old man with delusions of grandeur, too unhinged to bring along.  Nothing more than more ash in the wind.

My hand curls around the pill I asked for, the one Farley had tossed me after I pestered her for it.  Do the world a favor, crow.

I’d laughed.

It should be easy.  I have nothing left to keep me.  Yet still I cling, clutching the cyanide pill as if I could crush it to oblivion.  Too soon.  I cannot risk her return to the palace.  But every moment I dawdle is a moment she can find me.  A moment she can wring to disaster.

A twig snaps.

I spin around to the trees, where a Red quivers as he stares at me.  He has his orders.  He knows my fate.  He runs, and so do I, opposite directions in the middle of the park.  She must be nearby.

My time is running out.

As is my body, the bloody scratches, the worn muscles, the aching bones that fail me as my legs collapse.  I grasp for the pill, cursing.  I cannot let her draw close enough to snare me.  

I’m sorry, Barrow.

My teeth tear open the casing and bite.  But not quickly enough for a shoe to not slam down, crushing my fingers until they break.  I swallow.

Claws scrape a mind that is already fading, already dying, neurons fraying as I convulse.  She catches an image that crumbles in her hands.

And I laugh one last time before it all fades to nothing.

Chapter Text

Evangeline

Corros sprawls around us, punishing and dark, my blades catching the gleam of what little light there is.  Lady Iral is two steps behind me, weakened from the stone, but no less deadly.  I toss her the sword at my hip.  “I should’ve brought Wren.”

“And my granddaughter.”  Her fingers close around the hilt.  “She thinks I’m dead, doesn’t she?”

“Been told?  Yes.  Thinks?”  I chuckle.  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Her smirk could cut diamondglass.  “Of course.”  She strides forward, limbs sharpening with each step.  “I raised her, after all.”

The blades at my shoulders ripple with purpose, some tearing off while others harden into place.  My eyes rake across the nearest cell, a small cage of stone and iron.  Jacos paces inside, his lover idle on the bed.  I waver.  Perhaps I should’ve waited longer to free her.  But my instincts are screaming for me to strike, to ruin Maven with all my Samos wrath.

I run a hand along the bars.  “Lord Jacos.”  I chuckle.  “It seems Elara was too stupid to kill you.”

He looks up, eyes flickering past me to Lady Ara.  “And you have found a way to defy her.”

I smirk.  “It wasn’t hard.”

It’s a lie, and he knows it, grip tightening as he wars between vengeance and safety.  He’s a strange man, so obsessed with history, always insisting we learn of those below us.  “My sister would disagree.”

The words hang in the air, sharp and deadly.  They cost Sara her tongue, and him his courage.  I have no reason to speak them.  Instead, I pull away from the bars, allowing them to rise at a silent command.

The guards eye me, jittery, blades poised at their shoulders as Jacos exits his cage.  I’ve given them every reason to strike, and it gives me hope for their allegiance.  I flick my hair.  “Come.  I have someone I need you to meet.”

He wavers, waiting for his lover to stagger closer.  She steadies herself on his shoulder, looking at me with something bordering on hope.  I stride forward, head high.  “You know he’s down here, I presume.  Maven is too stupid to keep his mouth shut.”

It dawns on him, and he lunges, about to rush past me when I slam a foot over his.  “Respect your betters, Jacos.”  He flinches.  “I lead.  You follow.”

His teeth grind, but I yield no ground.  We march without much fanfare, even as Cal’s cell looms closer and closer.  Anyone else would be dead by now.  But a Samos is never “anyone else”.

I force Jacos to halt as we arrive, lights flickering as night approaches.  The guard is thinning, but still fearsome, moreso as I tap the bars.  They jitter.  I glare.

Within the cell, something creaks.

“You’re back.”  Cal’s eyes glisten in the light.  “What for?”

I step aside.  “See for yourself.”

Jacos runs to him, grabbing the bars with a knelt head.  Cal stumbles, then reaches back.  “She freed you.”

I think he’s going to cry.

“Yes.”  He softens.  “She wants to free you too.”

Cal bites his lip.  “Where would I go?”  His voice is pained, tortured.  “I’m wanted by all of Norta.  Even the Guard wouldn’t take me in.”

“We would.”  The words fall from my mouth with a startling finality.  “Maven is not our master, Cal.  So many of us want you to reign again.”

His breath catches.  “That’s not enough.”

“Am I enough?  Is your uncle enough?”  I stare him in the eye.  “You are not the only one suffering, Cal.  Maven is a tyrant to us all.”

He wavers.  “He’s–”

“Broken.”  Jacos wrings the bars, tightening as if they might break.  “I’ve always known it.  Always watched him make fun of Sara and belittle Coriane.  He’s not worth saving, Cal.  You know it in your bones.”

For a moment, he hesitates.

I play my last card, ruthless as it is.  “It’s what your father would want.”

He staggers back, wrenching away.  But even he can’t deny their truth.  Even he can’t find it in himself to argue.

“You can’t let yourself die as he did, Cal.  By Elara’s hand masquerading as your own, with Maven laughing beneath a thin veil of grief.  He would never forgive you if he did.”

“My father is dead.”  

I gnash my teeth, about to counter again when he straightens, tall as a mountain and angry as a wildfire.  His next words come in a whisper.  

“And so is my brother.”

I close my eyes, reaching for the metal that covers me head to toe.  Around us, the guards have finally caught on, metal swishing in an echo of might.  I raise my voice.  “Cousins.”  My words are stately, regal.  “Stand with me.  Stand with House Samos against the impending Red invasion.  Let us not be replaced by the rats of this new court.”

Cal grimaces, but it fades as the bars to his cell rise.  My command burns through the guards like wildfire, some joining while others remain locked in place.  One throws down a spear.  I catch it with a flash of teeth.

Shouts ring out among them, cousin turning on cousin as Huse Samos splits in half.  One by one, I open prison cells.  One by one, I add more soldiers to my army.

Cal grabs a receiver and throws it down, cracking it until sparks ripple across it.  He wastes no time in turning them to flame, a circle of ire that flares as if screaming.  “Get my uncle out of here.”  His eyes are wild, manic.  “Save yourselves, and I’ll make my last stand.”

I almost maul him then and there.  “I freed you for your crown, Tiberias.”   The name makes him flinch.  “I’m not leaving until it’s lost.”

Jacos raises his voice, humming with ability.  He, too, calls for them to fight.  He, too, knows better than to surrender.

Cal doesn’t look at me.  “You think one battle will change anything?  You think one battle will save us all?”  The flames grow higher.  “I’m here to die on my own terms.  I’m here to save as many as I can.”

“Well, too bad.”  I scowl, dodging the first wave of metal shards.  “We’re fighting for you, whether you like it or not.  It’s your choice to make it worthwhile.”

He wavers.

I snarl.  “I never took you for a coward.”

“And I never took you for a fool.”

“Enough.”  Jacos cuts between us, too close to the flames for comfort.  “There’s no time for arguments.  Not when–”  He falters.  “Not when there’s bigger things to worry about.”

Before I can ask what he means, he raises a hand, one finger pointing to the walkway above.  To the crackle of purple ripping through the air, slaying two guards that were locked in a stalemate.  To the lights flickering, lightbulbs bursting, leaving us in darkness but for Cal’s flames.

To Mare standing above, crimson glinting off her sash.

Chapter Text

Mare

Evangeline has just dug her own grave.

Maven’s words echo as I make my way to Corros.  I had asked him to come, but he refused, insisting his kingdom could not survive his absence.  Besides.  His eyes had gleamed.  I would hardly want to steal from your moment of triumph.

I tremble.  He’s so certain I’ll win, so certain I’ll live, so certain the Newbloods will follow my command.  He must know of their rebellion, that their numbers are little more than two dozen.  

He must know I will certainly die.

Shade tucks his arm around me, tight, the transport rattling around us.  Ada smiles, yet there is unease beneath it.  “You know the plan?”

“Absolutely not.”  I steady my breathing to no avail.  “I don’t know what we’re up against.  I don’t know anything anymore.  I–”

Shade turns me to face him.  “It’s okay, Mare Bear.”  His expression begs to differ.  “We’ll get through this.  I know we will.”

I swallow.  The hours flash back to me, fresh and fragile, a promise I can’t afford to reject.  The Measures can be revoked, Mare.  And all you have to do is subdue her.

My fists clench.  Of course.  Maven is who he is, and I can’t change him.  Even if it would be noble.  Even if it would be right.

“Don’t forget the bargains we’ve made.  The secrets you’re learning, the strength and power you’re so close to grasping.”  Maven leans into my ear.  “You’re good at this, Mare.  I know you are.”

I shiver.  He’s a liar, but he’s a good one, one that knows my desires and how to flatter them.  I exhale, forcing steel into my voice.  “We have to win.”  My hand digs into the cushions.  “I don’t care how.”

Shade takes my hand.  “I know.”  He kneels his head.  “I know.”

The Newblood had fled by the time we rallied the others, long gone to the train beneath the palace.  A fleeting offer of peace and safety, one that went as quick as it came.  It shakes Shade, I know.  But it only cements my resolve.

“Gwendolyn has Nix and Cameron.”  I tap my foot.  “They said they’ll fight for the Measures, but no more.”

Ada exhales.  “The Merandus girl seems to have a hold of them.  Not sure how long it’ll last.”

I sigh.

Maven’s hands still ghost my frame, kisses against my collarbone as he submits to my will.  An illusion.  Even now, he has the upper hand.  Even now, I can only beg for his mercy.

“We’re here.”  Shade jolts me from my musings.  “We can make a plan.  We can still win.”

My nails dig into my chest, and I wish I could claw to my heart.  “We shouldn’t have to.”

Ada clears her throat.  “What’s done is done.”

“Yes.”  The words weigh on my chest. ”What’s done is done.”

I will live.  I have to.  I can’t bear this weight and fight at the same time.  My thoughts turn to Anabel, the information she so desperately craved.  I have it now.  I can lure her to my side, if we stopped by her manor.

“Change the route,” I whisper.  Shade jolts, even as I explain my reasoning, even as hope hinges on bringing more to our side.  “We need Silver might.”

Months ago, I would’ve balked at the words.  Months ago, I would’ve rather torn my limbs off.  But I know better than to fall to my own pride.  I know better than to waste the chance to tear them apart.

The Lerolan estate is no brighter than last time, still mourning despite the rest of court moving on.  Even my wardrobe has more red than black now.  I steel myself.  She already thinks less of me.  I must prove her wrong.

My hand trails along the railing.  “Your Majesty.”  I keep my voice level and head bowed.  “I’ve found your bird watching partner.”

She doesn’t turn.  Doesn’t speak.  Only taps the windowsill, staring into the courtyard.  I clear my throat.  “Lady Iral, right?”

A beat passes.  I hold my breath.

“Yes.”  Her hands still, head lowering.  “But it’s too late.”

I still.  My fingers curl at my sides, searching for something they cannot grasp.  I need more leverage.  More lies.  More–

My lips part.  “I know where Elara is.”

Anabel whips around, face hard as stone.  Her nails graze the windowsill, scraping, screeching.  “Do you, now.”

“She’s searching for those like me.”  The realization hits, a hard thud against concrete.  “She’s taking those who will not come, and turning them into weapons.”

“Hmm.”  She cocks her head.  “And how is this my problem?”

My face burns, an inferno.  “Who do you think her enemies are, Your Majesty?”

“All of court.”  She doesn’t blink.  “You most of all.”

I shake my head.  “Either you use us, or she does.  And I would rather take my chance with you.”

She strides forward, fists clenched in her mourning robes.  “I will not fight.”  The words hiss like steam.  “Not for you.  Not for him.  And not for your band of Newblood freaks.”

Lightning hums beneath my fingers.

“But I am willing to observe.”

The sparks die.

Anabel takes my hand, staring me in the eye.  “Train them on my grounds.  Sheath them with my swords.  But don’t ever, ever , consider us equals.”

I stare back.  Neither Red nor Silver.

Stronger than both.

“Go.”  Anabel waves a hand.  “And come back with victory.”

I turn around.  “I shall.”

Barrow , Evangeline whispers in my head.  I’ll call you that next time we duel.

Chapter Text

Mare

The air crackles with my rage, Shade two steps behind.   The tingle of violence is all too familiar, an old friend welcoming me into its arms.  “Front of the line.”  I gesture to Nix and Cameron.  “You’re our best chance.”

Something grips my wrist, and I snarl, turning around.  Lupa stares at me, trembling, but still standing. “I’ll go first.”  Her breath comes out ragged and uneven.  “I’m the most dangerous.”

Gwendolyn balks.  “Absolutely not.”  She tugs her backwards.  “You’re too young.”

She bristles, gesturing to Cameron.  “And she isn’t?”

“That’s different.”  Her voice takes on a strained tone.  “You’re a lady.”

“And a whisper.”

I sniff.  If it were up to me, I’d throw her on the line like everyone else.  But I don’t have as much say as I’d like, and so I push forward, letting them bicker behind me.  “Lady Samos.”  My voice holds no warmth.  “You brought your daughter here.  Use her or don’t.  But don’t hold up the line.”

Gwendolyn grabs Lupa and hauls her in her arms.  “You handle them.”  My stomach sinks, but she continues.  “I need to talk some sense into her.”

My teeth gnash.  It seems everyone is intent on abandoning me, no matter how I try to prove my worth.  My grip tightens on the railing.  “Give it your all.”  I draw back, fingers twitching.  “Or die trying.”

On one side, Ada loads her gun.  On the other, Nix puts an arm around Cameron.  “You sound Silver.”

“Good.”  The word comes out in a rasp.  “It means we’ll win this thing.”

One by one, I focus on the lights.  

One by one, I make them explode.

Glass rains down on us, but I don’t stop, striding forward even as shards crack beneath my heel.  One sticks in my arm, and I grit my teeth.  Pain made me strong.  Pain made me whole.  Pain made everything else go away, if only for a minute or two.  Shouts ring out, some ahead, some behind, but all echoing through the pitch black.  My sparks are all that remain, lighting the vast cavern below.  Doors upon doors, guards upon guards, they fight amongst each other for Evangeline’s crown.  

I clench a fist.

Lightning rips through the air, striking the nearest magnetron, ash flaking off limbs and contaminating the air.  I cough despite myself, despite the mission, despite all that depends on me staying strong.  Firelight flickers in my periphery.  I whir around to glare at Wolliver.

But nothing is burning at his fingertips.

I whip around, barely breathing.  A ring of fire has risen from the stone floor, encircling three figures staring back at me.  My grip tightens on the railing.  “Evangeline.”  Sparks fly off into the ether.  “Surrender before I make you.”

The air is thick with the clash of knives, so loud I can barely think.  The flames rise higher, circle widening, and I catch flickers of the faces within.  Julian.  Evangeline.  Cal.

Maven’s voice brushes against my ear again.  The measures, Mare.

I waver, hands trembling.  I’ve never had to fight him, but I know what he’s capable of, how he defeated two Silvers in Training with a bored expression.  He was a cold-blooded killer.  One I could not help but feel guilt over.

“Wolliver.”  Weak as I am, my voice doesn’t betray me.  “Close the circle.”

His hands flail before he finds his stance, sweat beading at his forehead as he closes his eyes.  “I can’t–”  He draws back.  “He’s too strong.”

I shock the railing, and he flinches, retreating to the back of the line.  I haven’t trained them long enough, not for this.  “Gwendolyn!”  My voice echoes off the stone, lost in the screech of metal against metal.  “Get your ass over here!”

Nothing.  I scan the cavern below, making note of the metal scaffolding and how it tears and twists into spears.  At this rate, it’ll collapse.

“Cameron.”  I reach for her, stopping just short of gripping her shoulder.  “Ca–The traitor prince is below us.  Can you smother him with your ability?”

She yanks away, shaking her head.  Her braids cast shadows in my sparks, thin ribbons that cut the light to slithers.  “I don’t–”  Cameron clutches her chest.  “I barely know how to use it.”

I snap to Ada, reaching for the gun at my waist.  “We need her closer.”  Cool.  I need to stay cool, even as my hands shake and the rest of me riots.  “Can you tell which guards are on our side?”

Her brow furrows as the air starts to burn, a metallic scent that grows stronger by the second.  I jerk my head towards the source, coughing.  All I see is the ring of fire.  All I hear is the crackle of smoke.

Ada leans over the railing.  “Lory.”  Her finger points, brown and slender.  “Look.”

A new recruit, Lory had enhanced senses, sharp eyes and ears that caught all within the palace.  She peers down, squinting.  “The fire . . . “  Her nose wrinkles, and she draws back.  “It’s–”

The walkway begins to buckle, and I pull them back.  “We need Gwendolyn.”

Lory grips my shoulder.  “And air.”  Light reflects off her amber eyes. “He’s–”

Behind us, someone screams.

I whip around to Wolliver’s body dangling off a blade, to a silken silhouette and Iral house colors.  Ara Iral stares me in the eye.  Instantly, she grabs a body, one that bucks and kicks in her grip.  Shade meets my eyes for the briefest of seconds before they disappear, plunging somewhere in the dark ether.

The walkway groans, and I stagger forward.  “No time.”  I scan the doors as I run, each one opened or in the process of opening.  “Get to the ground.”  My eyes flare.  “Or die trying.”

Chapter Text

Mare

Ada is the first to obey, sprinting down the steps as the walkway groans.  Lory quickly follows, pinching her nose.  “It’s metal.”  The scaffolding rips out beneath her and she stumbles.  “Someone’s burning bullets, and letting the fumes poison the air.”

I swallow, walls closing in around me.  “It’s a suicide mission.”  A sharp intake of breath.  “He doesn’t care if he makes it out.  He’s just trying to smoke out as much of us as he can.”

Nix grunts, pushing Ada behind him.  “Let’s make this quick, then.”  His skin crackles, smoother than stoneskin, but no less deadly.  “I want what you promised, Barrow.”

I grit my teeth.  “We all do.”

The metal screeches, buckling, and I lunge forward.  There’s not enough room for all of us to make it.  Still, I have to survive, if only to make Maven keep his promise.  I raise my voice.  “Samos!”  I can barely hear myself over the clash of steel.  “We come to you by order of the crown.”

The railing rips out beneath my hand.  I stumble back, gripping the wall, only for the scaffolding to slant towards the center.  My feet slip, and I scream.

And then the walkway begins to straighten.

A head of sand-blonde hair darts past me, hands running along the buckling metal.  It straightens with each treacherous second, Gwendolyn’s eyes rippling with rage.  I catch a glimpse of Lupa, hands extended as if to clamp down on a mind.  It can’t be her mother, her movements too smooth and steady.  Instead, a nearby guard clutches his head.  I can’t tell if he’s on our side or not.  I can’t tell if I care.

Ada heaves, shaking with exertion.  It seems her ability leaves no protection for her body.  “Open the windows.”  She shoots the glass, but it bounces off.  “The air’s gonna kill us!”

Gwendolyn grabs the newly righted railing.  “Bit busy here!”  Beside her, Lupa heaves.  “You know how many magnetrons are aiming for us right now?”

My eyes harden.  “Weren’t you trying to run?”

“We got cut off on the way back.”  She grunts, a bullet inches from her face.  It rockets back to its owner with a screech.  “I will not apologize for keeping my daughter safe.”

What about the rest of us?  I want to scream.  Instead, I lock on Lupa, still standing, one fist clenched as the other searches for a target.  Electricity spreads on my fingers.  “What are you doing?”

She points ahead, eyes hollow.  It’s hard to tell in the dark, but I can vaguely discern the shape of a body.  Several bodies, actually, all slumped into question marks on the floor.  Lupa stares at me.  “I crushed their brains.”  The words quiver, a leaf in the breeze.  “I didn’t know I could do that.”

Neither did I.

My back straightens, a plan slowly weaving into place.  “Get to the ground.”  I dodge a spear that embeds in the wall.  “If we kill the prince, we can offer pardons to the rest.”  It’s a power I don’t have, but I’m not above lying.  Never have been.

Gwendolyn ducks, armor tearing off into razors.  “Good thinking.”  Her breathing comes in steady pants.  “I’ll stay here.  You light the way.”

I reach for Cameron’s arm, only for her to smack me off.  “Not a chance.”  She winces.  “I can’t–”

I sharpen.  “Do you want your brother to march into the Choke?”

She draws back, shaking.  It’s a choice, but not a real one, same as Maven’s promises to me.  Sparks jump and crackle overhead.  I let them light the way to our fate.

Someone calls after us, high and breathy.  I turn to find Lupa struggling to catch up.  Good.  She might be the most dangerous one here.  She tries to take Cameron’s hand, only to be swatted away.  Her face falls.

It’s not long before heat begins to creep across my skin.  My fingers twitch as I catch another shape in the flames.  Two, actually, both locked in combat, the circle widening as if to keep them trapped.  One disappears, reappearing just outside.

Shade.

Another shard aims for him, but it changes direction just as quickly.  Same as all the others that have aimed for us, a hundred eyes that wish us both dead and alive.  I send electricity rippling through the shards, bending and breaking them as they fly through the air.  The smell makes me reel, iron and noxious.  We have a time limit now.  I need to make it count.

Cameron takes a step back, coughing, and I almost grab her arm again.  Almost.  Lupa stares at me, and my limbs freeze midstep.  “I’m sorry.”  She, too, starts to cough.  “Run!”

They both break for the exit, and I curse.  The flames have grown painfully bright, tinging blue as I approach.  They part, and Evangeline steps through, blades gleaming flame-white and purple from my sparks.  “Barrow.”  Razors circle around her wrist.  “Doing his bidding, are we?”

Sweat beads at my forehead, and I cough despite myself.  “I’m surprised you’re still standing.  You’re closer to the fumes than any of us.”

“It’s iron.  It runs in my blood.”  She shrugs.  “A Samos can breathe it in all they want.  You, on the other hand . . . “  A grin, sharp as a knife.  “I suggest you run.”

I lunge, sparks ablaze, nearly at her throat when she pins me to the ground.  Stone grinds against my chin as one fist collides with my cheek, a razor sliding along my throat before slashing again.  My skin erupts into a million sparks.  My instincts hurl her against the wall.

I claw at my throat, smoke choking my lungs as I stagger upright.  A hand closes around mine, and I almost recoil.  But Shade’s voice registers through the haze.  “One down.”  He coughs.  “Two to go.”

Cal.  Ara Iral.  But not . . . I frown.  “Where’s Julian?”

A fireball hurls between us, yanking me and Shade apart.  My head whips around to Cal’s cold stare, burning with judgment and undue hatred.  I suppose it makes sense: I did leave him to rot in a cell.  Still, it gives me the strength to hurl back, to send lightning careening towards him, too quick to transform to flame.  He rolls away.  I strike again, harder.

The next fireballs come in quick succession, Shade grabbing me and teleporting away from the flames.  My lightning strikes from the ceiling this time.  It singes his shoulders, but nothing more.

Cal grips his head as I double over, wheezing.  “THE WINDOWS!”  My voice barely sounds like mine.  “OPEN THE FUCKING WINDOWS!”

They quiver, each section fighting for ground.  I send bolts at them, but the glass is too strong.  Diamond: wealth, strength, and power.  And it’s gonna get me killed.

Evangeline lurches forward, a razor swirling my direction.  Cal sets it on fire, scorching hot, and it almost hits me.

Would’ve, were it not for Shade’s body blocking the way.

He stumbles, flames spreading over his uniform.  It almost burns away.  Almost.  It’s fire-resistant, smothering within seconds, the fabric whole save for the smallest of holes.

But it doesn’t stop the stench of burning flesh.

I turn around, flaring, sparks shimmering below my skin.  I would’ve exploded.  Might’ve killed everyone here in a sudden burst of lightning.  But I never get the chance.

Everyone freezes, weapons dangling in midair.  Above us, footsteps echo in the newfound quiet.  Blue eyes stare down at the newfound stillness.

Elara snaps her fingers and everything goes dark.

Chapter Text

Maven

For the second, and hardly final time, Mother is not amused.

She doesn’t drag me by the ear this time, only ripping into my mind with more violence than normal.  I almost flinch.  Almost.  I’m used to this, the heavy price of her love.  The sharp sting whenever I disobey.

Her hand collides with the nearest ceramic, shattering it on the floor.  A servant kneels to clean it up.  She kicks them in the stomach.  “If you love Reds so much, why not become one?”  Her voice rises to a shriek.  “Get an Arven to forge stone chains and forsake your blood altogether.”

I swallow.  “There’s no need–”

“Shut up.”  She yanks the desk drawer open, rummaging through it.  Around us, papers still line the floor, my tryst with Mare echoing with every rustle.  “Your little schemes are going to get us killed.”

I reach for her shoulder, a tense, unsteady hand.  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Her fingers clench around a report, slamming it on the desk.  “Five snapdragons.”  The shriek is gone, leaving only cold, calm, calculation.  “You traded five snapdragons and the Measures for him.”

I force a smile, my charm hanging by a thin rope.  “Of course.”  My hand shakes as I lay it on her shoulder.  “He’s the rival heir.  Why wouldn’t I pay any price to get him back?”

She stares at me, hand clasping over mine like a vice.  “The Measures were not yours to give.”

I draw back, but she tightens her grip, forcing me in place.  “They weren’t necessary anymore.”

“Of course they were.”  She sniffs.  “They were strength.  They were power.  They were a reminder of the natural order of things.”

I don’t speak.

“They were a barrier between you and that girl.”  The blow is swift and final, rattling through me without remorse.  “Something she wanted, and you were foolish enough to give.”

My mind races, trying to outpace her.  

I fail.

“Not without strings.”  I wince despite myself, her whispers growing talons as they rake through my memories.  Her disdain rips through me and I want to tear my own skin off, set it on fire to cleanse what little soul I have left.   “She cares for me, Mother.  I’m sure we can–”

“What of Evangeline?”  Her voice rises.  “How . . . clever , letting her sniff your brother out.  Poking Samos until they split in half, all to make her break her own betrothal.”  Her whispers tighten.  “I suppose you gave no thought to the aftermath.”

I pull out a seat across from her.  “He’ll be dealt with, don’t worry.”  I steady my breathing.  “And so will she.”

Mother scrapes her nails on the table, a sharp sound ringing through my skull.  “By you?”  She rounds the table, tip, tip, tapping.  “I doubt that.”

“I’m sorry.”  The words leave me unbidden.  “I thought–”

“Son.”  She softens.  “We all have to make sacrifices.”

“Is that what you thought of Thomas?”  Cold ripples off me, an endless well.  I’m not being fair to her, I know, but the words feel right.  “That he made me weak?”

Silence.

Mother lays a hand on my shoulder.  “I did all I could, Maven.”

I know.  I know, and yet I can’t stop the words from spilling over.  “You never liked him, did you?  That he let me have someone outside you, someone I could turn to, someone I might love on my own terms?”

I snap my mouth shut.  I may be her son, but I am still beneath her, even if her love gives me some leverage.  My fingers clench around empty air as she draw back.  “You said that of Cal too.  That he loved you more than his crown and his own selfish whims.  So please, Maven, continue.  Call me a monster for wanting to keep you safe.”

It’s a lie, of course, even if I don’t care to correct it.  Cal loved me without remorse until I severed us myself.  “I never called you that.”

“Good.”  She cups my cheeks, squashing them as if I were a babe.  “At least you still have some sense.”

My hands shake as I break away, clutching my chest.  “I don’t want to be alone.”

She tightens.  “You’re not alone.”

“I know.”  My breathing is ragged, unsteady.  “I know.”

Mother stares at me, unwilling or unable to look away.  “I love you.”  Her fingers ghost mine, a gentle squeeze.  “Pull yourself together, son.  It won’t do for them to see you break.”

She’s right, however much my body may scream.  She’s right, however much my mind betrays me.

I wipe my eyes.  I steel my heart.

And I make my way towards the door, where Mare awaits my decision.

Would you like him as a wedding gift?

The words leave my mouth with rapt idiocy as I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.  His death, I mean.  I smile, taking in her scent, her voice, the little things that may not last any longer.  The way her breath hitches when I lean closer.  It’s the least you deserve, after all.

She stares at me, quiet.  I’d already offered my condolences.  I didn’t think them worth lingering on.

How can you smile, after all this?  Her slap lands on my chest with more force than I thought she had.  How can you smile, knowing what he meant to me?

I still.  Well . . . My eyes dart before focusing once more.  It’s your vengeance.  I thought it would mean more than words ever could.

Mare exhales, still staring.  You’re a monster.  Her fingers tighten on nothing but air.  But I suppose I am too, now.

You’re a warrior, Mare.  I lay a tentative hand on hers.  And he was too.  Don’t–

She yanks away.  You don’t know me.  Her breath comes out as a hiss.  You’re all poison.  You’re all–

I interrupt her with a kiss.

She grabs my hair and pulls me down, stumbling against the wall.  I’ll ruin you, she mutters against my lips.  I’ll–

I hiss into her mouth.  Not if I ruin you first.

The rest of me is far away, off scheming or dreaming or whatever it is I do when I’m not conscious.  All I know is my time is running out.  All I know is the tip, tip, tap of disapproval, the nails on the table, the echo of pain in every stray thought.

And no crown is going to stop whatever happens next.

Chapter Text

Elara

My cousins always asked how I did it.  How I managed to slip past the prickling neck, the goosebumps, the body’s natural defenses that alert of intrusion.  Try as they might, they could never avoid panic forcing them to take control.

I'd laugh.  Brutes, all of them.  Take Samson.  He never made use of himself outside the arena.  Never knew how to be anything more than a club, breaking his toys long before they could be useful.  

True whispering requires patience.  Dedication.  You must learn their fears, their hopes, their dreams, become the voice that always watches and corrects.  You can never allow yourself to be an outsider: You must convince your target you are them.

I sigh.  Maven has long surrendered to sleep, as has the girl.  I’ve half a mind to strangle her before he wakes, let a servant take the blame as he wails over her body.  As tears pour from his Merandus eyes, a scream to shatter even my frozen heart.

I never liked to see him cry.

You’re weak for him, Aunt Marjorie hisses in my ear.  An accusation I can’t help but counter.  I’ve sculpted Maven’s mind since he could walk, ensured he’d never stray far from my grasp.  I’ve held his hand through countless nightmares, soothed his ego after defeat, promised him vengeance for all his humiliations, should he only wait a few years.  He was mine, then and always, mine to love and raise as no other could.

As his weak excuse of a father couldn’t.  Didn’t even try.  Spent all his time grieving for his miserable Coriane, loving her son as though Maven were a mirage.

So I saved him.  Carved the love from his brain before it could twist to daggers.  If only I could’ve done the same with Cal.

I warned him.  I whispered all the slights so he’d never forget, never turn his back long enough for a blade to nestle within it.  But there was always doubt.  Always enough good memories for him to cling to, to insist on a love I couldn’t understand.  It took a girl to finish the job.

If only that was all she did.

My fists clench.  I won’t let her ruin him.  Not anymore.

You couldn’t bear to see him hurt.  Aunt Marjorie leers back to life, clawed fingers jabbing my spine.  Not by your own hand.

Coward.  I was a coward, chasing phantom seers so I wouldn’t have to face his heartbreak.  Not anymore.  If he hates me, so be it.

It’s for his own good.

I exhale.  When Maven was five, I took away his nightmares.  Told his mind not to dream anymore, and let the neurons grow dull with disuse.  It was the toughest call I had to make.

Perhaps it is time I give them back.

His mind is as easy to slip into as my own, worn in from decades of gentle prodding.  I lean back and close my eyes.

It begins at twilight, in the hazy hour between wake and sleep.  Somehow he goes from staring at the ceiling to rolling waves, wood swaying beneath him, the gentle wind blowing hair in her face.  Maybe this is what it is to dream.

If so, he doesn't want to wake up.

Mare brushes a hand along his arm, goosebumps trailing in her wake.  She wears a gown of purple silk, a soft thing which doesn’t suit her, but stuns him nonetheless.  “What a shame,” she murmurs.  “I was hoping to die closer to home.”

No.

This can’t be.

His arms move of their own volition, sweeping her from the deck to his lips.  Her hair twines between his fingers, slipping free no matter how he weaves.  “I won’t let them hurt you.”  She tastes like desperation and stolen dreams.  “You have my word.”

She draws him closer, close enough to murmur against his ear.  “Your word isn’t worth much.”

Thunder cracks in the distance, and she grins.   Pain splits his head in two as her hands crawl across his skin, tearing, pulling, pinching, a monster seeking flesh.  She’ll rip him apart.

Let go.

Wood splinters beneath them, winds howling in opposite directions.  She pulls him closer, begs him to hold on as she’s pulled beneath the waves.

She’s drowning me.

It burns, but he holds on, hugging her close to his chest as they plunge into the darkness.  Ice water fills his lungs, salt stinging his throat.  This is her fault.  Her fault, yet he doesn't let go.  He kisses her as if he could crawl inside her skin.

Son .

I won’t let go.

This is madness!

You don’t understand.

I love her.

She’ll rip you apart!

Then let her.

I lurch out of his mind with a jolt.  Sweat coats my palm, and I clench them until my nails threaten to draw blood.  He threw me out.  I let my guard down, and he threw me out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You are in control.

When Coriane died, I tried to erase her from Tibe.  Whispered how weak she was, how easily she was led to bleed herself out in the bathtub.  Yet he never gave her up for me.  Never stopped wailing for her ghost, wasting away for a woman long gone.

Worse, I failed to erase the other Red.  The one whose body I had to pry from his arms, a limp doll flaking to ash.  It was too late to undo the marks upon his mind.  Too late for anything but more pain, haphazard needles I could not tug free.

Perhaps it is time I stopped fighting it.  Perhaps it is time I indulged him, smoothed her mind so her resistance faded to dust.  I will not break him.  I will not leave him to Tibe’s fate.  Her, on the other hand . . .

She would make a perfect Coriane.

Chapter Text

Evangeline

My cell is clean, at least.  The Samos name holds regard enough to keep me in good condition, however much my parents may disavow me now.  They curse me for not waiting, for dishonoring the family with my reckless disobedience.  I did it for them.  I did it for them, and still they rip me to shreds.

Lady Ara struck before I did, a flicker in the firelight as her silhouette slid up the wall.  I wonder if she could even have slipped through the flames, her skill unmatched by even her greatest ancestors.  She would’ve won her queenstrial had she not been too old.  I suppose I should be grateful my parents timed me right.

Regardless, I turned to Cal.  “Brighten your flames.”  The words left me in a whisper.  “Don’t let Barrow control the light.”

Gwendolyn paces just outside.  She must be gloating, a vengeance for her loss, for all the times I’ve tried to kick her back to the dirt.  I snarl.  “Say it to my face, traitor.”

She kneels at the corner, tilting her head.  “Are you happy now?”

“Is that a joke?”

“You weren’t happy before.”  Her hand runs along the bars.  “You never will be, if you think you can please them.”

My hands shake.  “What would you know?  You haven’t had a family since we cast you out.”

Her eyes darken.  “Is that what they told you?”

The fire flared, white overtaking the yellow.  Around us, shards smoked, sailing through the air faster than I could deflect.  They vanished when they hit the flames.  “Get out of here,” he’d rasped.  “Both of you.”

“Ladies.”  A new voice echoes in the darkness, the pur of power and whisper of might.  Elara caresses the walls as she enters, stepping on a rat’s tail with distaste.  “Are we clashing our swords again?”

I clutch the bars.  “Let me loose, and I’ll skewer her.”

“Oh my.”  Elara chuckles. “What a scandal.”

Gwendolyn straightens.  “No more than what you’ve done to Artemy.”

Her brow arches.  “That man?  He’s lucky I haven’t ruined him for wasting Merandus blood on you.”

He’d managed to get Julian to break for the exit, a Singer useless in the deafening clash of metal.  I stayed, only noticing the fumes when he began to choke.  I paused.  “You’re gonna get yourself killed, Calore.”

“I can stand it longer than she can.”  He grit his teeth.  “And once she falls, I’ll stop.”

Vengeance is getting to him, or perhaps despair, the weight of all he’s lost finally too much.  I know enough to know he’d rather die in battle than by Elara’s sword.

Her fist halts inches from her face, and Elara laughs.  “Did you really think that would work?”

She pushes to no avail, finally giving up when Elara flicks her forehead.  “Stay away from my son if you know what’s good for you.”  She sneers.  “We have no time for traitors, however long it’s been.”

The bars twitch, and I hold my breath.  They don’t bend.  They don’t break.  Her rage is not enough to let me slip through.

Gwendolyn grits her teeth, drawing back.  Elara waves a hand.  “Begone, wench.  I must speak with her alone.”

She cannot disobey a queen.

Elara watches as she leaves, turning to me and softening.  “My son has been quite cruel to you, hasn’t he?”

My breath catches in my throat.

“Scorning you for a Red.”  She kicks a pebble, flicking dirt in its wake.  “Setting you up to rot in a cell.”

I clutch the bars, the metal taunting me with its silence.  “Don’t patronize me.  I fell by my own hand.”

"So you did."  Her smile doesn't waver.   “But you don’t have to scorn mine.”

Cal fell before I did, Elara’s wrath concentrating on his skin.  He’d gagged on his own spittle before collapsing to the ground.  I’d thought him dead.  I’d thought him vanquished.  But it seems Elara’s spite always gets the best of her.

Whatever retort I had dies in my throat.  “You said to put her to the test.”

Elara hummed.  “I did.”

“I failed.”

“Not quite.”  Her nails tap against the bars, manicured silver, so dark you could mistake it for blood.  “She hasn’t faced me yet.”

I bite my lip, wishing for death.  “What good does that do me?”

“Now, now.”  She wags a finger.  “I will free you in due time.  For now, I must placate him.”  Her lip curls.  “I did not expect to raise another Tibe.”

I have little to say to that, even as a cockroach scurries over my shoe.  “What was it like?”  My throat bobs.  “When she stole your crown?”

Elara pauses.  She studies me, soft and violent, reaching a hand between the bars.  “I cracked in two.”

My laughter is bitter, forced.  “So did I.”

“Not as visibly.”  She tuts, nails screeching against the bars.  “I kept quiet, and so did my family.  To the rest of court, we were unshakable, a united front in the face of extraordinary misfortune.”  Her teeth gnash.  “To each other, we were beasts.”

My mind flickers to Mother and Father, Atara and Sonya, all the Silvers who saw weakness in my loss.  “That’s the way of court.”

“It is.”  She cocks her head.  “Let’s make a deal, you and I.”  She strokes her hair.  “You wait for your throne as I did.  In exchange, I will ensure the rat bears no child that might usurp yours.”

It takes a second to register, my heart pounding in my ears.  “I can still–?”

“Of course.”  Her voice drips, sweet as syrup.  “Samos is owed its dues, after all.”

“And Barrow–”

“Is but a girl.”  Elara sniffs.  “A toy for my son, for as long as she lasts.”  She kicks another pebble.  “However stubborn she is proving to be.”

My teeth gnash.  “Am I expected to be here while she sits on my throne?”

She laughs.  “You’ll be freed in due time.  For now, it must at least appear that you are punished.”

I snarl, almost grabbing at her from behind the bars.  It would do no good, not when I am already at her mercy.  I had hoped she would die before Cal ascended the throne.  It seems it might be the other way around.  “Mother called Barrow a Coriane.  Will you do the same to her?”

“Hmm.”  Elara flashes her teeth.  “What did I do, exactly?”

“You killed her.”

“I had to.”  She grins, and I almost expect her to laugh.  “You and I–we were not built for the sidelines.”

Swallow.  “I know.”

Her nails tap the bars again.  “Do we have a deal?”

We do.  We don’t.  I trust Elara less than I would a starving lion, because that, at least, Mother could subdue.  I extend my hand.  “Set me free first.”

Pause.  “No.”

I burn, head falling.  Elara watches me, eyes sharp with malice.  “You failed me, Samos.  You tried to kill Barrow by aiding a rival heir.  Consider yourself lucky to even breathe.”

Her mind curled around mine, sharp with malice.  You failed.  You failed.  You failed.

And worse, I could hear my mother’s voice echoing the same.

I can’t stop the tears now, the scream, the pounding against stone to no avail.  A hand reaches through the bars and caresses my chin.  “Evangeline.”  Her voice is soft, lethal, the dust of snow on frostbite.  “Do we have a deal?”

In I breathe.  Out I lie.  And in the middle of it, I stare at her, lips parting in a mangled promise.  “We have a deal.”

Chapter Text

Mare

I wake, not for the first time, in tears.

My vision clears with a blink, and I fumble for a tissue.  I’ve taken to leaving a box at my bedside, but there’s little I can do about my sweat-soaked skin, still shivering from the latest string of nightmares.

No, something inside me hisses.  Memories.

I shiver.

This one was crisper than the last, a photograph before it falls onto a flame.  Shade’s death burns into my retinas, the twitch of dying limbs and seared flesh.  The price of Cal’s rebellion, the price of my progress, the price of Maven’s refusal to yield any ground.  I should have taken the Newblood’s offer.  Should have quit when I had the chance.

I grab a lamp and smash it without thinking, so close to taking the shards to my skin.  Is this how it feels, to lose yourself to madness?  Is this how it feels, to watch your life slip through your fingers?

Cal’s face flashes before me, and my mind grows thick with fog.  In my dreams, he throws the spike himself, burns him alive as he stumbles to the ground.  It isn’t real.  But it might as well be.

I can still feel his hand around my wrist, tightening as the lights flicker at the start of the Sun Shooting.  His fire.  His explosion.  How many died for it?

Screams ring in my ears, and I tremble.  It’s not real.  Not anymore.

But it was, wasn’t it?

The Scarlet Guard is next, Farley’s voice echoing in the dark.  Rise, red as the dawn.   In my dreams, she stands on Shade’s body.  In my dreams, she tells me it was fine.

Change must come at whatever cost it needs.

So long as they didn’t pay the price.

The uneasiness lingers as I join the newbloods in Training, urging them to push their abilities to the limit.  Cameron glares at me from the sidelines, Lupa seated next to her.  They make an odd pair, but they’ve grown closer since Corros.  Close enough to shut me out whenever I draw near.

“What is her ability?”  Anabel slides from behind me, pointing at Cameron.  “She won’t respond to me.”

“Silence, but stronger.”  The words taste of ash, of broken promises and burnt bodies.  He was just a soldier to him.  Just another Red to use and discard.

“Hmm.”  She purses her lips.  “And what do you call this new ability?”

“A smother.”  Cameron had refused to name it.  “She doesn’t like to use it.”

Anabel tuts.  “How inconvenient.”

"I don’t blame her.”  A risky maneuver, one that might cost me her favor.  “She’s here against her will.”

She sighs.  “Aren’t we all?”

I don’t have an answer.  Nor do I find one come nightfall, when I wake to a bedpost marred with ash.  The sheets lay scorched beneath me, ash flaking in branching patterns like lightning scars.  

Things.  Not people.

Not yet.

My foot finds purchase on the wooden floor, swimming with memory and delusion alike.  A wedding gift, he’d said, but I want it now.  Want to do it myself, even if it kills me.  Which it will, almost certainly, no matter how much Maven stacks the deck.

Perhaps that’s why I keep shivering, pacing until marks are seared into the floorboards.  I can’t stay in this room.

Where I’ll go, I don’t know.  I find a path somewhere in the chaos, a path of distant footsteps and my own ragged breathing.  There is a door, the slide of a lock, wood giving beneath me as I sprawl onto the floor.  No one watches.  No one helps.  I might as well not exist.

Several sobs later, I peel myself from the ground, rising to a mess of cluttered shelves and fallen papers.  I know this room.  I know these papers.  They speak of borders and military strategy, of pawns pushed across a board for glory and conquest.  They make me sick.

Sicker than they should.

I shiver.  I, too, have made battle plans.  I, too, have made meaningless sacrifices.

Shade.

Myself.

In the future . . . who knows.

Yet my ends were different.  I cared enough to risk the wrath of court, to help a people long cast aside by whatever means necessary.  He never reached for more than his ancestors gave him, and condemned me for using him as my stepping stone.

His eyes flash before me, brimming with hurt.  How does it feel to be used, Mare Barrow?

I burn, sparks crackling from my palm.  They spread without command, lapping at the papers and games until they, too, start to burn.  There is no stopping their rampage, not without help.

"Maven!"  My words are weak, lost in the wind.  The flames rise higher, and the door creaks.  Elara stares at me, head cocked, hands stroking a knife as she leans against the wall.  I grit my teeth.  “Help me!”

She chuckles.  “What an interesting development.”

Ash gathers at my feet as I flail, and the sprinklers go off.  Somewhere in the haze, someone hands me a knife.  And I look up from the floor to find a carving in the wood.

M for Mare.

M for Murder.

M for Madness.

The knife sticks in the wood as I let go, sensation ebbing in and out.  Sometimes I’m on the floor.  Sometimes I’m on the bed.  

And sometimes, I’m in the sky, crying through it all.

Chapter Text

Mare

It follows me.

It hangs on Maven’s head as he nudges me to answer in Council.  It shimmers in the air as Ketha floods the ground with shrapnel, an explosion too potent for Anabel to dismiss.  It flickers in and out of focus as Gwendolyn cheers Lupa on from the sidelines. 

I don’t remember making it.  I don’t remember anything but ash on my fingertips, heavy breathing and delirium.  It was Elara.  It had to be.  How else could I lose myself to such a pointless meltdown?

It didn’t feel pointless.  

My palms sweat, blood evaporating to fumes and adrenaline.  It’s his fault.  If he had taken my hand on the bridge, I wouldn’t be here.  Wouldn’t be pacing my room in a breathless rage.  Wouldn’t be clawing every scrap I could from Maven’s good will.  Wouldn’t be destroying myse–

Calm down.

No.

Make a mark.

Sheets tangle between my legs as I squirm awake, not to a bedroom ceiling, but my cheek pressed against hard floor.  A scrap of pillow is clutched between my fingers, feathers trailing a path contained not within my chambers, but the hallway, a hallway I did not fall asleep in.  What an interesting development.

I curse.

A glance at the window confirms my suspicions: the sun hasn't risen yet, nor has anyone else.  I should return to my chambers before they notice.

Should. 

My nails dig against my palm as if it were his back, as if his suffering were enough to lift me from the abyss.  It never is.  It never is, and yet I keep coming back.  Shade was right.  

If only I could tell him so.

Not for the first time, his death spears through me, claw marks on the floor and tears in my eyes.  I can’t let myself forget it.  Can’t let the image of his body fade.  Instead, I rise, wobbly, but still standing.  The newbloods still look to me.  The newbloods still need me. And there is one person whose heart still beats for me.  Who won’t turn me away, even as I itch and ache for his demise.  A foolish hope. 

One I can’t bear to deny myself any longer.

His room is easy to distinguish from the rest.  More guards flank the knob than any other, eyeing me with suspicion as I knock.  The creak startles me, adrenaline racing as he takes me in.  Not a king.  Not a monster.  Those masks have been packed away for the night, leaving annoyance in their stead.  “What is it?”

“I–”  Now or never.  “Can I sleep here tonight?”

He jolts.

“Not like that.”  I wince.  “I--Nightmares.”

“Oh.”  Maven parts the door.  “Of course.”

My hair is plastered to my forehead, skin slick with sweat as he guides me through gray walls and barren shelves.  It is a hollow, empty space, and I shiver.  Perhaps it was a mistake to come here.

“You can sleep there.”  Maven gestures to what must be his bed, though it barely extends past his height.  “I’ll take the floor."

My heart pounds.  "You don’t have to."

Pause.  "Is this--"

"I sleepwalk."  The words are fevered, desperate.  “I need someone to hold me down so I don’t–I–I don’t know.  This was stupid.  I should–”

Maven softens. “It’s alright.”  He tugs the blanket free, letting it ripple to the edge of my feet.  “It’ll be a tight fit.”

“I don’t care.”  I slip beside him, arms nestling in the crook of his back.  He smells like ash and lavender, a bush set aflame by the noonday sun.  At least I’m not the only one.

“If you’re having nightmares, Mother–.”

I stiffen.  My fingers loosen from his shoulders, gripping his shirt as if I could crawl inside his skin.  “Bad idea.”

“Maybe.”  He can’t meet my eyes.  “She helped me when I was younger.”

“And look how you turned out.”

“I’m serious.”  Maven shifts, pulling away as if to guard himself.  "I used to have nightmares, so much I couldn’t sleep through the night.  I’d crawl into Cal’s bed and beg him to protect me.  It was mortifying."

"You were five."

“Old enough to know better.”  He shudders.  “She cured me of my nightmares.  Of all dreams.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”  I clutch his pillow, digging past the silk coating to the stuffing beneath.  Sweat pools at the pads of my fingertips.  “What did she–”

His breath is cool against my neck.  “She couldn’t cut out the nightmares on their own.  So she ensured I’d never be forced to dream again."

Bile rises in my throat, and I force it back down.  "That's not okay."

Scoff.  "We're not okay."  He sits upright, fists clenched as if struggling to hold on.  "You shouldn't--"

"Maven."  My voice lowers to a dangerous octave.  "Elara’s been in my head enough."

And I tell him everything.

It’s hard to read him as I fumble over the details, each mistake an easy point of attack.  He grows cold as I dream of Cal’s hand in mine, colder as my initial sears on his wall, and colder still as Elara pries the knife from my hand.  My eyes squeeze shut, praying for frost: a death his mother cannot resurrect me from.

"Look at me."  A whisper, one I can’t bear to obey.  The pillow squeezes to feathers, my palm to red crescents, searching for something, anything to hold onto.  My ledge is shrinking fast.  And he cannot pull me up.

Maven sighs.  “I’ll fix this.”  His voice bleeds.  “Please.  Go to sleep.  I’ll keep the nightmares away, I-I promise.”

My heart turns to ash.  “You can’t.”

He hugs me tight, tight enough I can feel his chest beating against my own.  His hands are warm, glowing embers, and I’m reminded of another Maven, another broken promise.  I'm so good at collecting them.

"I'll make her stop."

Another hope, another lie.  I don't have the strength to argue.  No strength but to lay beneath the covers and pray sleep finds me fast.  

And that the nightmares do not follow.

Chapter Text

Maven

She didn’t tell me.

The halls are alight with the bustle of a new day, one I should already be leveraging to my advantage.  Mare has long since left my bedside.  There was no reason for her to stay.

I clench a fist against my forehead, against the migraine bubbling deep inside my temple.  Mother can use her ability as she pleases.  It’s not my place to order her otherwise.

I’ll fix this.

You can’t.

My fingers curl.  What does she know?  I’ve lived with Mother all my life, knew her better than I knew my own mind.  She wasn’t there when her skirts shielded me from the dark.  When I cried in her arms as I couldn’t in Training.

When she forced me to walk before I was ready.  When she whispered the story again and again, held it as proof she loved me more than anyone else.

My fists clench.  I can’t fix this on my own.  That much is clear.  Still, I don’t need to despair.  Mother is not a tyrant with me.  She will listen, if I beg.

It’s the only choice we have.

My hand sweeps another report off my desk, mindless busywork to distract from Evangeline’s folly.  Volo is a simple man.  He assumes I am simpler.

“I don’t blame him.”  Mother’s nails clatter against the desk, snatching the paper before it falls to the bin.  “You’ve been acting like a child.”

“Your child.”

She sighs.

Now is the time to press her, to insist there’s no need to meddle with Mare so.  That she is already firmly in my grasp.  But the words I manage to speak are quite different.  “You didn’t tell me.”

Her brows raise.  “Pardon?”

I stare at my feet, at the words I know to say shattered on the floor.  At the path I’ve always taken crumbling beneath me.  “How many times have you not told me?”

Her nails tap, a warning.  “Maven–”

I don’t have to ask.  She already knows.  She always knows, because it’s her right, her ability, her son to tinker and tear as she pleases.  I know it’s cruel to tell her to stop.  I know it’s selfish to call her love a burden.

“Maven.”

“You don’t remember.”

“Do you?"  She glides across the room, placing a hand on my shoulder.  “Come now.  We have more important matters at hand."

“ We do.”  I don’t blink.  “How many times have you not told me?”

She pauses.  “I don’t understand.”  There’s something new in her eyes, a hole I have torn beneath her feet.  “Don’t you want her to love you?”

“I–”

Mother pulls away.  “I thought you’d be happy.”

My throat bobs.  “That isn’t love.”

“It’s my love.”  She tilts her head.  “You don’t want it?”

“Of course I do.”  I clutch my heart, nails digging into my skin.  “Even if it hurts.  Even if–”  My eyes tear away.  “Even if you use it as an excuse to break her.”

Mother grabs me by the shoulders before embracing me, her limbs cold and unyielding.  “I know you love her.  And for that, she stays.”  She draws back.  “Don’t ask for more than I can give.”

I’m selfish, too selfish to do anything but stare.  I can’t let Mare cloud what little judgment I have left.  I can’t let this nonsense ruin all that Mother’s worked for.  “How many times–”

“Enough.”  She snaps my jaw shut.  “This is for the best, Maven.”

My lips pry open, but no sound comes out.  Mother turns her heel and leaves.

I stare at the floor until she’s gone.

I don’t expect to run into Evangeline.

I halt, tapping the wall, my expression morphing to a sneer.  She returns it, surrounded by Arvens, striding forward with no regard for how she looks.  My tongue sharpens to a blade.  “Who let you out of your cage, my dear?”

“Her majesty.”  She juts her chin, smirking.  “She asked I prepare myself to attend the ceremony.”  Her hand brushes over her uniform, bare of studs or blades for the first time in her life.  “It wouldn’t be a wedding if I didn’t attend it.”

I chuckle.  “You talk like you’re still a bride.”  Cal’s bride.  Cal’s queen.  She chose her allegiance just as I chose mine.  “It’s pathetic, truly.”

“Pathetic.”  Evangeline cocks her head.  “Strange, considering you talk like your lover will last the night.”

I still.  It’s too close to the truth, too close to what Mare told me last night.  She knows.  She knows Mother’s plans, Mother’s promise, Mother’s distant threat still hanging in the air.  I bury it in a cheeky grin.  “What we do in the night is not your concern, my dear.”

Her eyes flash.  She doesn’t speak.  She doesn’t lie.  Her hand runs through her hair like she’s bathing in silver blood.  “Have fun.”  Evangeline doesn’t blink.  “It’s the last either of us will ever have of it.”

I draw back, the slightest shift, eyeing the Arvens with all the ire I can muster,  “Take this traitor out of my sight, please.”  I wave a hand.  “I see no reason to let her roam.”

Several nod, tightening the circle.  One clears their throat.  “We must show her off to the houses, silenced and made common.”  He bows, a slight tremble.  “Queen’s orders, my lor–Your Majesty.”  His mistake registers too late, tremble deepening.  “Surely you can see the wisdom.”

She didn’t tell me this either.

I rub my forehead.  “Chain her, then.”  The words are slow, deliberate.  “If she is to be punished, let her be a spectacle.”

His eyes dart.  “The queen–”

“Is not a king.”  I sneer.  “Chain her, or let her rot.”

I know better to expect a reaction from her, even as a guard leaves to fetch some.  She only raises her head higher.  “Farewell, future husband.”  She wears her mask well, even if I can find the ticks and tells beneath.  “Your Mother sends her regards.”

I turn around and don’t look back.

Chapter Text

Mare

Gwendolyn finds me before I find her, stroking a blade as she steps out of the shadows.  She’s not as silent as Elane, yet the memory still strikes, a dull ache I know better than to linger on.  I clear my throat.  “Where have you been?”  I tap the marble wall.  “Besides Training, I mean.”

“Not your concern.”  She waves a hand.  “Our army is making terrific progress.”

I stiffen.  Our army.  The words feel wrong, even if I’ve said them myself.  “To what end, though?”

“Does it matter?”  Her eyes snap to mine, and they cut to the bone.  “Strength and power, Ambassador Barrow.”  She smiles, a Silver thing of tooth and fang.  “Soon to be Queen Mare.”

The title chills me, a promise made threat.  I am on a leash now, however golden, one wrong step from tightening to a noose.  “Not really.”  My hand trembles despite myself.  “Now that she’s back.”

I don’t have to say who, not when her presence hangs over us all.  Gwendolyn sheaths the blade with a sigh.  “Artemy never liked her.  Thought she was the worst of his family, however stiff the competition.”

“Good for him.”  My voice holds no mirth.  “If only that mattered.”

She hardens, glaring, nails tapping the wall as if to make it shriek.  “Don’t test me, Barrow.  You’re not queen yet.”

“We’ll see about that.”  My hands rake through my hair, mussing each perfectly coiffed curl.  “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?  Someone high enough to grant you favors?  Sorry to break it to you, but I have new strings now.”

Her voice falls to a hush.  “Then we cut them.”  A bit of armor tears off and spins in her palm.  “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

I swallow.  “I know you want revenge.”  My hand hovers over the metal, just out of reach of the blades.  “I know you think you can use me.”

Her palm snaps shut.  “Perhaps.”  There’s not a shred of shame to her.  “What has happened, exactly?”

My fingers tremble as I rush through it, eyes darting every which way.  There’s no telling what she’ll make of me.  No telling whether she’ll cast me aside.

A beat passes as she studies me, tip, tap, tapping the wall.  “We’re both in danger, then.”  Her voice takes on a strange edge.  “She threatened me when I visited Evangeline’s cell.”

We stare at each other, unmoving, neither willing to yield ground to the other.  I clear my throat.  “What do you propose?”  A step forward.  “Elara’s a whisper.  She’ll see anything we hide from her.”

Gwendolyn looks away, fixating on the portrait behind me.  I turn around to find one of the many Calore kings staring back at me, a young queen at his side.  Black hair and honey-brown eyes, she wears a military uniform instead of a gown.

And then I notice her house colors.

Gwendoln’s words are slow, methodical.  “Do you know how far the Lerolan estate is?”

My fists curl into my skirt.  “She’ll follow me.”  The nightmares tug at my periphery, and it takes all I have not to choke.  “And if she won’t, he will.”

Her hand feathers along my arm, searching.  “Then you stay here, until we can get you out.”

I yank away, scowling.  “How long will that be?”  The tears rise despite myself, despite all that depends on me staying strong.  “And who’s ‘we’?”

“Your newbloods.”  She steadies my shoulder, staring me straight in the eye.  “Elara won’t set foot near Anabel, not when she has you and Evangeline to worry about.”

I exhale.  “What of my mind?”  I grit my teeth, blinking back another round of tears.  “I’ll be lucky if I make it through the month.”

She shrugs.  “Then we strike before then.”

“What part of ‘she’ll follow me’ don’t you understand?”  My shoulders tremble, and the tears finally fall.  “Get the newbloods out of here.  And don’t look back.”

A red queen.  A red ruin.  I will be a cautionary tale, if I’m lucky, and a demon if I’m not.

Maybe I can even be a martyr.

Silence stretches between us, taut and ready to snap.  Her fingers knot in mine and don’t let go, her eyes so fierce I have to look away.  “Do you know what Maven did to Evangeline?”

I pause.  The last few days have been a haze, blurred by dreams and pain and the ever-present ache of regret.  I remember little more than the announcement, how I was forced to stand next to him and solidify our engagement.  There’d been uproar, of course, but that’s Elara’s problem now.  I shrug.  “I assume she isn’t dead.”

“She walks among us, restrained only by a circle of Arvens.”  Darkness flickers across her face.  “And her new bracelet.”

That catches my attention.  “What, is it too plain for her?”

She doesn’t laugh.  “Do you know what silent stone is?”

“Of course.”  I scoff.  “I’ve been to the dungeons, you know.”  I study her fingers, moon-pale and spotless, edged in nails that are shorn, yet not bitten.  “Where do you think Maven puts his fiancees?”

I expect a chuckle, at the very least, but Gwendolyn only shakes her head.  “I can make one for you, you know.  To keep her from prying.”  Her grip loosens, but her gaze does not.  “A silent stone bracelet.”

I still.  Lightning sparks in my hand as if on instinct, weaving a small grid in my palm.  I swallow.  “You think that’ll stop her?”

She sighs.  “It’s the only choice we have.”

I sharpen.  “And what do you get out of this?”

A beat passes.

Her gaze wanders to the window.  “You think he’d run with you, if you asked?”

Sparks jump from my hand and singe the floor, almost setting fire to the carpet.  “No.”  My vision blurs, yet my eyes are dry.  “Not in this lifetime.”

The tip, tap, tapping, returns, this time on the portrait frame.  Her eyes blaze.  “Then we take him.”

“Huh.”  I tremble, hands more spark than skin.  “An interesting proposal.”

She pulls out a velvet pouch, letting it dangle by one finger.  “I have the key.”  A sharp exhale.  “Put it on, Barrow.  We’ll work out the rest later.”

I stare at her, unmoving, finally snatching it when my lightning calms enough for me to grasp it.  A faint sketch of a plan forms in the back of my mind.  Maven would make a good hostage.  

But he would make a better corpse.

Chapter Text

Mare

The gown is gorgeous.

Cinched at the waist, the stiff corset gives way to ruffles, an explosion of taffeta that reaches the floor.  The shoulders lay bare, support surrendered to silken straps draped across the arms.  Elara picked it out.  Said it was the delicate persona I needed if I insisted on playing the Red Savior.

I hate it.

The corset will restrict my breathing, ruffles weighing down any attempt at escape.  There is no pocket through which to slide a knife, no veil to hide my anger behind.  I will be exactly as she wants me: defenseless, shivering, and transparent to all.

“Smile.”  Elara’s voice is a blade.  “He went through so much trouble for you.  The least you can do is be happy for him.”

I grip the hem as if it were a dagger.  “He’s not here.”

Wrong thing to say.  She grabs my chin, dragging my lips upward to the point of pain.  “But I am, girl.  Anything you say to me gets back to him.”

“I could say the same for you.”

She laughs.  Her fingers close around the bracelet.  “Samos work, I presume?”  My skin prickles.   “It’s a heavy ratio.  I’m surprised you’re able to walk.”

“I’ve always been full of surprises.”

Elara stands, and I almost crumple to the floor.  “You are.  It’s strange.”  She studies me, a frog under the microscope.  “You know what the most frustrating part of it all was?”

"I don’t care."

A cluck of her tongue.  “She didn’t seem to want it.  All that power, stolen from me, and for what?  For her to mope her days away, simmering in weakness as I spun her nightmare after nightmare.  There was no fire in her.  Not like you.”

I scowl.  “She was probably stronger than you think.”

Sniff.  “How would you know?”  Elara circles me, a vulture waiting for its meal.  “You weren’t in her mind.  You weren’t the one who disappointed her family by not striking first.  You didn’t have to endure their sneers, their laughter, their shame, all for a girl who didn’t even want it.”

“Are we talking about her, or you?”

She strikes me.

I stumble backwards, gripping the vanity for balance.  My face burns, breath fanning the flames as I try to steady myself.  I’ve taken a hit before.  This one shouldn’t surprise me.

Elara studies her fingers, sneering.  “You cracked my nail polish.”

I know better than to respond.  The bracelet is my shield, the only reason her eyes are not etched inside my skull.  Instead, they linger on it, hungry.  "Take that off."

"No."

She strikes me again, harder, but I will not bend.  I will not break.  I’m not a piece of clay for her to pinch and prod.  I refuse to have my edges sanded off.

“You’ll take it off eventually.”  Elara draws back, fists clenched.  “Do it now, and I’ll make it painless.”

I shake my head, prepared for a strike that never comes.  She paces, a writhing mass of fury.  “Why resist?  You’ll be happy.  I won’t leave you to Coriane’s fate.”

“You don’t want to see him cry.”

She hisses.  “I will make you perfect for him.  I will make you treasure every moment you spend together, every stolen kiss, every speech he requires you perform.  I will leave you in a blissful haze until your years burn out.”  Pause.  “Or you can suffer them in silence.  Your choice.”

The bracelet weighs heavy on my wrist.  “I choose me.”

Elara storms out of my room, servants trembling in her wake.  They scramble to apply makeup over the marks, a doll whose cracks are beginning to show.  I will not tell Maven.  I refuse to relive the humiliation.

Yet I can barely hold my tongue as he enters, pausing as if to absorb me.  His hand feathers along my skirt before resting at my waist.  “You look like a queen.”

I close my eyes.  “Coriane, maybe.”

His other hand caresses my cheek, thumb brushing past the makeup to the bruise beneath.  His breath hitches.  “Who did this?”  He falters.  “And why?”

My teeth tear into my lip.  “I banged into the dresser.”

“Mare–”

“What do you expect me to say. Maven?  ‘Your mother hit me and you’re not gonna do anything about it’?”  I lower my head.”  “She’s done much worse, you know.

His gaze drops to my wrist, drawing it closer as if to kiss my hand.  “Perhaps.”  The bracelet brushes against his lips, and he recoils.  “This dose . . . You’ll whither within a week.”

“As a queen.”  I snort.  “Maybe I’ll start a trend: Abusive-in-Law Chic.”

“She’s not–”  A defense too weak to finish, to hold his head against the truth pulling it to the ground.  His voice falls to a hush.  “And if she was.  What difference would it make?”

The sentence cuts us both.

“I still love her.  She’s still my mother.  And where would we go?  Who would take us, after all we’ve done?”  His throat bobs.  “I’d rather be in pain than alone.”

“That’s not your choice to make.”

“No.”  He cups my cheek, comes the closest he ever has to kneeling before me.  “It never is.”

My lips are not enough to bring him to his knees.  To bid him run beside me towards a new red dawn.  I’ve never been enough, not for him, not for Cal, not for the weight of a people in chains.  “What will it take?”  My fingers dig into his shoulders.  “For you to choose me?”

How slight, the difference between a laugh and a sob.  “I don’t know.”

Maybe he did know, but wished he didn’t.  Wished he could drown his regrets in my lips, bury his sorrow as deep as his hands in my hair.  Just as I call mine strategic, not desperate, not a lover’s farewell I dare not voice aloud.

Shade warned me.

I didn’t listen.

“Your gown,” he mutters.  “We’ll ruin it.”

Then ruin it!  I almost scream.  Ruin it like you’ve ruined everyone else in your life.

But I can’t afford to be stupid anymore.  So I let him smooth the wrinkles of my skirt, adjust his tie without drawing it to a noose.  Tonight, I run.

Today, I endure.

Chapter Text

Mare

Sonya and Atara have declared themselves my bridesmaids.  I submitted complaints.  They were refused.

"Can you name one of your children after me?"  Atara places a dove on my head, and I pray it doesn’t have to poop.  “I did set you up, after all.”

Sonya picks up a brush from my vanity, tapping her on the nose with it.  “Don’t spend your favors all at once, darling.  Spread them out across the decade.”

I shoo at the bird, but it stays put.  “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

Atara huffs.  “We are.  At least, I am.”  She gestures to the dove, bidding it fly onto her arm.  “Your hair’s a wreck, by the way.”

I glower at the bird.  “Wonder why.”

“You’ll be able to rest, at least.”  Sonya takes my hair in her hands, brushing and braiding it with deft fingers.  “Little will be expected of you.”

“Sit still, look pretty.  Got it.”  I’ve never been good at either.  “Are you doing anything?”

Sonya pauses.  “No.”

Atara chafes.  “Yes.”

The dove fluffs its feathers, relieving itself on the mirror.  I don’t recognize the girl who looks back at me.  The makeup has hidden the circles beneath my eyes, the sharp edges of my hunger, and the slight bruise of Elara’s slap.  She is a delicate thing, to be treasured and discarded when her youth runs dry.  She will not lead a revolution.  She barely leads herself.

“Don’t cry.”  Sonya touches my cheek, right above the bruise.  I wince, a sharp intake of breath, and she frowns.  “What is it?”  Her eyes trail from her makeup stained fingers to my cheek, widening.  “Did he do this?”

Strange.  She could stomach strangling Elane in Training, but a bruise makes her flinch.  “Does it matter?”

“We’re not brutes.”  Atara sharpens.  “We don’t hit outside of Training.”

I let my silence speak for me.  He won’t stand up for me.  He might as well take the blame.

Sonya tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.  “Here.”  She brushes some more makeup on my cheek, and I freeze.  “We can . . . “ She bites her lip.  “Make it easier.”

Silence stretches across the room, and I wonder how often this happens.  If they would help me even if it weren’t a risk.  Regardless, I grit my teeth.  “Fuck off.”  I wipe at the makeup, but it won’t come off.  “I don’t want your help.”

Atara stares at me, dove on her arm again.  She doesn’t speak.  She doesn’t flinch.  She only watches as I leave, brow furrowed and unsteady.

I will never see them again.

The corset pokes my ribs as I shuffle down the steps, the ruffles nearly tripping me as I hold my head aloft.  I will not bend.  Not here.  Not now.

"Enjoying yourself?"  Elara purs, extending a hand to lead me down the aisle. “I can make it go away, you know.”

Around us, nobles chatter around black tablecloths, red roses dripping from every surface.  Crystal goblets clink as they laugh.  I take her hand.  “I prefer my bracelet, thank you.”

Her grip tightens, threatening breakage.  “You are nothing with it, and even less without.”

“Were you talking about your ability?”

She can’t hit me in front of the guests, but she can smile as she trips me.  I burn as chuckles rise.  “Yours is little more than a parlor trick."

I almost rip off my bracelet and incinerate her on the spot.  Instead, I pull away, searching through the crowd.  A dove lands on my shoulder again, nuzzling my bruised cheek.  Its wings flutter against my chin, and my fingers creep to stroke its head.  A coo resounds in my ear.

Maven glides beside me, smiling.  “Atara’s warming up to you.”

“Perhaps.”  I don’t look at him.  “Everyone wants a piece of me right now.”

His hands slide over mine, a warm cage of uneasy comfort.  “Don’t give away anything too important.”  He squeezes, soft and silent.  “Always leave them wanting more.”

My head snaps to him with a hiss.  “Was that your strategy towards me?”

“What more do you want, Mare?”  He exhales, sharp.  “What more do you think I can give?”

I stare him in the eye.  “Everything.  Nothing.”  My shoulders shake.  “And I don't know if it’s that you can’t or you won’t . ”

His lips part, and no sound comes out.

The ceremony is far less eventful, an aisle of black velvet seeded with rose petals.  Elara grips my arm as she leads me down the aisle.  Maven swallows as we approach, careful not to look either of us in the eye.  To my surprise, a Red officiates, the robes of a judge.  A bone tossed my direction, one I refuse to chew on.  He runs through our vows, and I stumble to answer correctly.  “Do you, Mare Barrow, pledge yourself to House Calore, to Norta, and to the crown?”

I swallow.  “I pledge myself to you, Maven Calore.”

“Do you, Maven Calore–”

“I pledge myself to you, Mare Barrow.  To our future, to the crown, to the defeat of anything that seeks to separate us.  I would take up the sword if it meant we would prosper.”  He takes my hand and kisses it.  “But for now, I give you my word.”

And then he leans in for the kiss.

I wish I could say it meant nothing.  That his lips tasted like ash, his tongue a scorching flame.  But I find myself leaning into him, running my hands through his hair and tickling his ears.  It is the last time I will touch him.  The last time we will be a pair.

Behind us, the judge coughs.

We separate, breathing hard.  Elara makes a face, as does the crowd.  I don’t care.  They are not the ones I need to convince.

Maven clears his throat.  “Are we dismissed?”

The judge nods.  “Go to the marriage bed.  You’re clearly quite eager.”

I jolt.  Maven shows no emotion, leading me to my chambers by the arm.  His are too small for this, too bare, too much like a child’s.  I suppose he still is one.

A tear tugs my eye, and I wipe it away.

Maven sits upon my bed and takes off his shoes.  He wavers, not touching me, not moving, doing nothing but staring into the distance  I tap against the bedpost.  “This is what you wanted.”

His eyes flutter.  “It is.”

“This is what you schemed for.”

“If you don’t want to, we won’t.”  His fists clench and unclench.  “I’m not a monster, Mare.”

I slide beside him.  “I wouldn’t mind.”

A last goodbye.

Maven’s hands creep up my spine, his eyes liquid sapphire as he presses against me.  He’s firm, gentle, rolling into me with soft coos.  I arch into oblivion, panting, clawing at his back as I sink into the mattress.  It doesn’t last.  It can’t.  I am a leaf in the breeze, destined for another pasture.  One to which he cannot follow.

He lies on the bed, eyes lolling, unable to focus as he stares into the distance.  I touch his cheek.  “Are you drunk?”

“No.”  A pause.  “Sometimes I wish I were.”

I have nothing to say to that.  There’s a soul beneath his silken skin of lies.  One I have to end forever.

His flamemakers rest at his bedside, my fingers closing around them.  It takes a few minutes for the candle to melt the clasps.  A few minutes before I finally exhale.

My hand wavers as I pull the letter opener from my dresser, positioning it at his sleeping throat.  I had asked Gwendolyn how to slit it, opting not to mention who the lesson was for.  She’ll learn eventually.  But not until we’ve escaped.

My throat bobs.  Strange.  I didn’t shake like this an hour ago, not when it was all a far off dream.  I’ve killed before, in battle.  I’ve killed before, from a distance.  Gwendolyn taught me where to pierce, where to aim, how to strike as true as my heart sings for me to.  As it should, but doesn’t.

The blade halts an inch from his throat.

I can't kill him, but I can’t love him either.

"Goodbye,"  I whisper, pressing my lips against his cheek.  A single teardrop lands beside it, and I haven’t the courage to wipe it away.

Chapter Text

Evangeline

The wedding unfolds as Elara said it would, sneers and champagne glasses clinking through the chatter.  If I could, I’d shatter each one, letting the shrieks rise as glass skids across the marble.

Instead, I glare.

The manacle cuts into my skin every time I move, all sharp edges and silver points.  Maven requested it be painful, and the cousin who made it has certainly complied.  Something in me wants to blame Gwendolyn.  But the rest of me remembers her words in the dungeons.

Are you happy now?

Tears threaten my lids as I exhale, shaky.  Elane visited me, when I was in my cell.  When her hand stretched between the bars, feathering my own.  We were too far to kiss.  Too far to do anything but talk, her voice quivering with words too heavy to speak aloud. 

The Haven estate was last of my parade, a sea of red hair and pitying glances.  Elane forced her way to my side, forced her way through the guards for a moment of solidarity,  It didn’t last.  It couldn’t.  But I felt the weight of it all the same.

My head lolls as Sonya taps her glass.  “I don’t know what you were thinking, truly.”  She studies her nails, flexing each scarlet and navy swirl.  “If you were going to rebel, you should’ve at least waited.”

I hold my glass at an angle, polishing my court voice to perfection.  “I saw your grandmother, you know.”

She sharpens.  It’s the first time I’ve spoken to her since Corros, so keen she was to avoid me.   “Save the lies, Samos.”  She tips back some champagne.  “My grief is not for you to wield.”

On my other side, Atara hums.  “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”  She chuckles into her glass, and I realize Sonya’s is missing.  “Idiot and ax-crazy.  You guys were made for each other.”

I tamp down the urge to slice her hand off again, opting instead to give a coy smile.  My voice is soft, deadly.  “Isn’t it strange, how he won’t show the footage?”  I cock my head.  “How the Panther disappeared right when he ascended?”

Sonya tosses her hair, turning to me.  “Go back to your cell, Samos.”  Her gaze could cut glass.  “If you’re so certain you’ll see her there.”

My lips tug.  “Come with me, Sonya.”  I extend a hand.  “See for yourself, if you’re so certain I lie.”

She leans back.  “I’ll say it again.”  A flick of the nearest glass.  “Go back to your cell.”

“No.”

She stares, calm.  Behind her, the Arvens shift, awaiting orders, one wrong twitch from sweeping me away.  “Do I have to get Anabel?”

I shrug.  “Let her come.”

“That’s enough.”  Rane Arven’s hand closes around my arm, jerking me upright.  “House Calore has no time for traitors.”

A month ago, I could’ve told him to back off.  For now, I snatch my arm away.  “Very well.”  My fingers dig into my dress, black silk pooling at my thighs.  It’s not my design, not anymore.  Not when I have no ability to speak of.

Sonya smiles, and my neck hairs stand on end.  “Go on.”  She chuckles.  “I imagine you don’t care about the ceremony.”

I bristle, raking a hand through tangled and unwashed hair.  Prison life has not been kind to me, no matter how temporary Elara insists it will be.  “I don’t.”  I wave a hand.  “A different table, if you will?”

He doesn’t blink.  “Denied.”

I lean back, huffing.  A hand grazes my shoulder, and I tense, only for Elane’s voice to cut through the noise.  “Go, Eve.”  Her lips brush against my ear.  “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

I pause.  It isn’t like her to ask me to bend, to sheath my knives and hide my fangs.  Something more is going on.  Something I have been left out of.

Sonya eyes me over the rim of a new glass.  “It’s rude to stare.”  The words slide off her tongue like ice down a back.  “But I suppose you’ve no need for manners now.”

There’s something strange about her tone, as if she were hiding something.  I know Sonya can bluff better than this.  Whatever it is, she wants me to notice.

I stand, face smoothed to stone.  “I suppose not.”  The words ring hollow, but I make them sharp as my former blades.  “I won’t forget this.”

Threat, promise–either one gets the job done.  Sonya eye’s burn as I turn away, a whisper of something I don’t care to read.  Elane has disappeared, absent or invisible, and I resist the urge to dab my eyes.

The lock clicks like the lid of a tomb, and I slump against the wall.  Hours pass.  My cell closes around me, the walls increasingly tight.  I clutch my chest to steady my breath.  Stupid.  Two weeks in, and I’m already losing my mind.

Footsteps echo off the stone, and my ears perk despite myself.  The walls tap, tap, tap, and I fear I’m hallucinating, only for a figure to emerge from the shadows.  “Evangeline.”  My heart leaps into my throat as Queen Anabel studies me.  “You’ve been quite the spectacle.”

I straighten.  “All the best Silvers are.”

She chuckles.  “Of course.”

Behind her, the Arvens shift, eyes wary.  I clear my throat.  “You weren’t at the wedding.”

“Hmm.”  Her hand strays to the blade at her hip.  “I wasn’t.”

It happens so fast.

One second, the guards are silent and still.  The next, they scream, blood on the blade, Anabel standing over the first body as the next draws their gun too late.  No sound.  No scream.  Only a widening pool of silver blood.

Anabel plants the sword in the body before rifling through their pockets, a bloody key and stained fingers.  She tuts.  “Apologies for the mess.”  The key fits in the lock like a glove.  “Silent stone only leaves so many options.”

I stare, frozen in place.  The air fills with the smell of blood, bodies on a battlefield I have never fought.  I swallow, forcing a foot forward.  “You–”

She hugs me, patting my back.  “Thank you for freeing my grandson.”  A whisper in my ear.  “It’s about time I returned the favor.”

Chapter Text

Mare

The fabric is taut between my fingers as I slice through the ruffle, letting it join the rest on the floor.  My legs have room to breathe now, a half-skirt and loosened corset, and I make the most of it as I stride down the hall.  The bracelet blinds me to the cameras.  Elara’s whispers are finally quiet.

I exhale.  Gwendolyn gave me only the haziest of sketches, the pieces I need to escape without compromising anyone else.  I barely trust her, but I have few other options.  A Samos, she had the standing to avoid interrogation.  A Samos, she had the plans to the palace memorized.

Tempted as I am to flatten against the wall, a queen must act like she belongs.  I hold my head high as I stride past portraits of Calore kings and their wives, all grave and severe.  Maven’s isn’t up yet, and mine never will be.

Were I a fool, I might’ve mourned.

“Excuse me.”

My neck hairs stand on end as a hand brushes my neck, nearly tugging at the pins in my hair.  Atara still wears a dove on her shoulder, eyeing me with something I can’t place.  “What’s with your dress?”

I grimace, steadying my breath.  “We, uh–”  I press a hand to my cheek, flushing.  “Maven got a li’l carried away.”

“Oh.”  She blinks.  “I don’t suppose he . . . ”

My nails dig into my flesh, and I withdraw.  I’d forgotten the morning, the lies, the silence that spoke for me and won me their sympathy.  I’ve had months to polish my court voice now, months to stick my feelings in a box.  “None of your business.”

She bites her lip.  Behind her, Elara’s portrait looms, eyes that turn my skin to ice.  You made this wound yourself, she seems to snarl again.  Now bleed.

“Huh.”  Atara circles me, raising a brow.  “What is my business, then?”

I don’t have time for this.  “Leave us alone, Viper.”  I try to sidestep her, but she blocks me with ease.  “I need to wash up.”

“I’ll go with you.”  Her hand closes around my arm, tentative, then tight.  “You’re queen now.  You’ll need a Silver to guide you through it.”

I bristle.  “I’d rather die.”

She snorts.  Her dove flaps its wings, settling on her hair.  “You will within the week if you keep up that attitude.”

I steady myself, breaking free of her grip.  “I dismiss you, Viper.”  I straighten.  “You wanted me to be queen.  Now obey me.”

A beat passes.

She grits her teeth.  “You’re trying to escape, aren’t you?”

I stiffen.  The letter opener still rests at my hip, hidden by the remaining ruffles.  “Why would I be escaping?”  I toss my hair, dragging a pin free.  It falls to the ground, and I gesture towards it, feigning surprise.  “Pick that up, will you?”

Her dove fidgets, and she scowls.  “I’m not a servant.”

“I gave you an order, Atara.”  I smile, tugging free another pin.  I don’t even pretend it’s an accident this time.  “This is your life now.”  Two more fall to the floor, skidding at her feet.  “So long as I stay within the palace.”

Her lips part, and I wonder if she’ll do it.  If she’ll let me go, find a way to pin the blame on someone else.  But her sense is greater than her pride, and so she kneels, fingers trembling as they close around the nearest pin.

My foot holds no mercy as it collides with her stomach.

Atara gasps, clutching the tile, dove screeching as it takes flight.  I sprint down the hall, cover be damned, fumbling for some latch that will let me lose the bracelet.  A bird would be no match for my sparks.  A bird would be no match for a Mare uncaged.

“Guards!”  Atara coughs, steadying herself against the wall.  “The queen has gone mad!”

I laugh, still prying at my wrist.  The dove catches clawfuls of my hair and they rip, pain blossoming at my scalp.  I reach for the letter opener, slashing wildly.  The dove is nimble but so am I, finally catching it and stabbing it deep in the heart.  The blood is red, red, red, but I keep going, tossing the corpse for Atara to mourn.  I will not die.  Not here.  Not now.

Screams echo behind me, and I brace myself for the guards.  They won’t kill me.  Of that, I am certain.  I can already feel their stares burning, caught between my orders and Atara’s scream.  I may be queen, but I am still Red.  I may be queen, but this palace is still a prison.

I raise my voice, steady.  “Stand down.”  The letter opener drips onto the marble.  “Your queen commands you.”

Gwendolyn should be here by now.  Should already be unlocking my bracelet, the weight of our rage enough to bring down all of court.  But she’s late.  Something is keeping her occupied.  

No.

Someone.

I don’t have time to deduce who before a hand closes around my wrist.  Maven stares at me, taking in my torn dress and shorn hair.  “Where are you going?”

I stiffen.  My breath comes out ragged and heavy, an echo of the sheets we laid in barely an hour ago.  “Where are the guards?”

His eyes flicker.  “What?”

“The guards.  They’re gone.”  I rake a hand through my hair, and come back with blood.  “I don’t see them anywhere.”

“Strange.”  He draws closer, and the air chills.  “You weren’t there when I woke.”

Blood drips down my arm.  My lips part and make no sound.

“I see.”  He twines our fingers together before leaning his forehead against mine.  “You can’t leave, Mare.  You can’t–”

“Atara attacked me.”  The words rush out, so fevered you could mistake them for truth.  “She lured me down here with her dove and–”

He sighs.  “Mare, you know that’s not going to work on me.”

I bite my lip, and the nightmares return, hellish and vivid as ever.  “Let me go,”  I whisper, pulling away ever so slightly.  His blood pounds in my palm as I look up at him, searching.  “I can’t stay here anymore.”

The hallway yawns, empty and soulless, and my eyes flicker to the doors ten feet away.  There’s no way Gwendolyn has this many allies.  No way Maven’s defenses have stretched this thin.

He grits his teeth.  “There isn’t a lie I won’t tell to keep you safe from her.”

“Even to yourself?”

His lips crash against mine like the eye of a storm, fierce winds howling in every direction.  “Don’t let me go.”  His grip tightens on my arm, blood smeared on his fingers as he heats to a fever.  “Please, don’t let me do this alone.”

His hand moves to my waist, almost brushing past the letter opener.  I break away, panting.  “Then come with me.”  The words rush out before I can process them.  “Come with me, and be free of her.”

He stares, reaching for flamemakers that aren’t there, not after I melted them in my bedroom.  “Mare–”

I tug his collar.  “Run away with me, Maven.”

“Mare, stop talking nonsense.”  He scoffs, though I catch the uneasiness beneath.  “You know perfectly well neither of us–”

“I know you want to.”  My hand creeps to his wrist.  “She may not hurt you as much as she’s hurting me but–”

He pulls back.  “Mare, don’t make me call the guards.”

The air grows even colder, and my skin starts to prickle.  I have one choice.  One chance.  One option left, no matter how it pains me.  I take a deep breath.  I lean in for a kiss.

And

I

Plunge.

It’s sloppy, shallow, barely a scratch as he staggers back.  His blood mixes with the dove’s, dark and desperate, and I hiss between my teeth.  “Get away from me.”

He stares, still panting.  “You’re just like everyone else.”  A slow, tortured whisper.  “Everyone but her.”

“Good!”  I aim my foot at his chest, but he’s prepared, dodging so I only scrape his side.  “You deserve each other.”

“Perhaps.”  Maven lunges for me again, almost snagging my torn and bloody hair.  “But I’ve never gotten anything I deserve.”

“Like me?”

“No.”  He breathes, hard and heavy as another lunge fails and sends him crashing onto the marble.  “But I want you anyway.”

His fingers curl against the marble as he attempts to get up, and I step on them as I sprint towards the doors.  My hand curls around the knob.  Freedom.  Freedom.  Freedom–

It won’t budge.

Ice slips down my back as Maven’s hand grazes my shoulder, tightening to a vice.  “It’s locked during the night.”  His breath feathers my ear.  “Poor planning, my dear.”

My thoughts turn to Gwendolyn and I growl.  I shouldn’t have trusted her.  Shouldn’t have spent hours waiting when I could’ve struck at twilight.  Either she’s been killed, or . . .

My blood runs cold as the rest of the room, the ever-deepening chills that bleed through my gown.  I’ve been set up.

Of course.  She’s still Silver, no matter her vengeance.  No matter how many bargains we’ve struck.  My fingers reach up to his and tighten.  “I’m a distraction.”  My voice cracks.  “For the queen.”  I laugh, dark and humorless.  “It seems it caught you instead.”

Maven spins me around, twitching.  “Mare–”

“Where do you think the guards went?”  I press a hand on the wound at his chest, digging.  “Who do you think they’re trying to protect?”

“Mare, give me the letter opener.”

My grip tightens.  “Answer the question, Maven.”

“I’m giving you one chance–”

Behind us, something explodes.

The blade clatters to the ground as I clasp my hands over my ears, ground tremoring, bracing myself for the debris.  The portraits rattle against the walls like marching soldiers, gold frames threatening to break free of their nails.  My heartbeat roars like a lion in a cage.  

And then–

Stillness.

I look up to the same hallway, the same gold accents, the same sheen of myself reflected in the windows.  Some portraits are at an angle, but all are still attached, Elara’s in particular holding with an unjust degree of firmness. Whatever exploded, it was far enough for the doors to hold.

Maven kneels next to me, fingers curling around the fallen knife.  “There.”  Light catches on the blade.  “Was that so hard?”

I punch him in the stomach.

He grits his teeth, doubling over.  I grab his hand and try to pry it open, blade dangerously close to my wrist.  Almost.  Almost . . .

Maven yanks me towards him and we crash onto the ground.  The wrist with the bracelet begins to ache as he pins me beneath him, too faint to focus on but too worrying to ignore.  My shoulders shake.  “You were supposed to save me.”

A bitter laugh.  “And you were supposed to choose me.”

I can’t stop the tear that slides down my cheek.  “I guess the truth isn’t always what we make it.”

“Perhaps.”  He wavers.  “I don’t wanna kill you, Mare.”

“Then don’t!”  My hand snags the letter opener, pulling it by the blade.  Blood wells in my palm as it yields, one hand at the hilt with one quick fumble.  “Let me go, Maven.  Let me go, and I’ll leave you be.”

It’s his turn to laugh.  “You’re a good liar, Mare.”  His hand flies to my wrist, tightening before I can stab.   “I’ve trained you well.”

“You and all of court.”  I strain against his grip, kicking.  Blood drips from my hand onto his cheek.  “I suppose even your mother deserves some credit.”

He freezes.  “I’ve lived this life with you, Mare.”  His fingers tighten as the blade grazes his throat.  “It gets easier, believe me. 

“I don’t.”  I push to no avail, the hilt slick with blood, his grip hardening as I slam my entire weight into it.   “You don’t love me.  You’re just lonely.”

“Maybe.”  His eyes fix on mine, and I can see my reflection.  “Are you?”

“I–”  The blade trembles.  “I don’t know.”

And for one eternal second, he falters.  For one eternal second, I have an opening.

And for one eternal second, the blade clatters to the ground.

We stare, panting, the thud of battle echoing in our hearts.  It’s still in reach.  Still in reach, and yet . . .

Maven’s thumb brushes my cheek, soft as a ghost.  “You can’t do it.”

Is this how it ends?  Trapped by my own feelings, trapped by his love, trapped by a mother’s claws sinking into my very soul?  I’m a Red queen.  A Red ruin.  A Red hope crushed to dust by Silver might.

“What colors,” I mutter.  “Will you wear when I die?”

It weakens him, I know, enough for me to roll over and pin his arm to the ground.  The blade gleams an inch from his head, neither of us willing to reach for it.  I slam his hand against the floor, praying for the crack of bone.  We won’t kill, but we’ll still bruise.  We won’t kill, but we’ll still draw blood.

His next words leave in a whisper.  “If I went first.”  His hand moves to my hair.   “Would you wear mine?”

I hiss, a fist that barely misses his head.  “You’re going to kill me.” My breath is ragged, wild.  “If I stay.  You realize that, right?  That she won’t let me live for more than a month?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“Ha.  Ha.  Ha.”  My shoulders shake.  “You used to be smart, Maven.  What happened?”

“You happened.”  He grits his teeth, hand tightening at my scalp.  “You and your Red Heart and your ruthless words and your wicked kiss and–”  A strangled gasp.  “I love you, Mare.”

“Then show it!”  My arms are weakening, more than they should.  So are my calves, my chest, my hips–something has infected my body, and it’s trying to crawl out.  “I want to love you, Maven.  I–”

“You can.”  He smiles, a false thing of lies and regret.  “If we must fall, it should at least be together.”

“Then come with me.”  The words come out in a strangled hiss.

“No.”

“Come with me!”  My palm screams, wound not yet closed.  The bracelet is close to slipping off, and the thought makes me giddy with hope and exhaustion.  “Do you care about your mind at all, Maven?  Do you know where she ends and you begin?”

He falters.  I choke, almost reaching for the blade.  Almost.  His fingers entwine with mine, gaze heady, but still calculating.  I dig into him with my nails.  How am I this winded?  How is one fight making me this tired?

A beat passes.

Maven sharpens.  “How long have you been wearing this?”

I follow his gaze and find the bracelet.  “What’s it to you?”  My breath is weak, words snapping into focus.  This dose, he’d muttered.  You’ll whither within a week.

His breath hitches.  “Give me the key.”

“No.”

“ Give me the key.”   Maven rolls me over, shaking my shoulders.  I strain for my lightning, but my cage is all too strong.  “I’m not letting you die in front of me.”

“I see.  I’ll find a quiet corner, then.”

“ You’re not dying.”

“I will if you keep me here.”  I laugh, dark and deadly.  “What’s wrong, Maven?  Upset your birdie’s got a week less than you thought?”

He trembles, hands clawing over one another to scratch his wrists.  It’s what I do, when the pain is too much.  When I have to get it out by any means necessary.  I swallow.  “You think she won’t kill you too?”  My eyes snap to his, burning and electric.  “Slit your throat and call it love?”

“I love her.  I don’t care if it hurts.”

“Do you care if she hurts me?”

Footsteps echo down the hall, and I know my time is up.  Maven won’t stop staring as I stagger upright, steadying myself against the wall.  His hand digs into the wound at his chest.  My knees give in as I collapse.

“Your Majesty–ies.”  The guard flickers to me with distaste.  “Evangeline Samos has escaped.”

Strands of hair fall into my face, gray ends glinting in the light.  “Good for her.”

Maven sighs.  “I presume that’s what the explosions are about.”

“Her and–”  His throat bobs as if Maven might shoot him.  “Tiberias VII.”

The air plunges to frost as the guard continues, details flowing through me as the sketch remains.  Iral, Haven, Lerolan, all in rebellion.  I almost laugh.  Gwendolyn couldn’t have picked a better time to run.  It’s cold comfort.  If she isn’t here to rescue me, she might as well be dead.

“The queen would like to speak with you.”  The words are clipped, quiet.  “If you wish.”

Maven stiffens, eyes wild, flickering to me as if I’ll disintegrate in his hands.  I wonder if I can see her, if I stare into his eyes long enough.  If I can parse some flicker of what’s him and what’s her.  “She broke you.”  Water glints off the marble floor, and I realize I’ve started crying.  “And now we’ll all pay the price.”

His hand trembles.  Behind him, a shadow moves down the hall.  Behind him, my end draws nearer and nearer.

“Goodbye,” I whisper.

Maven kneels to reach me, one hand over mine.  He stares, rough and ragged, a sharp exhale as he brings his face to mine.

For a moment, I think he’ll kiss me.

His fingers close around my wrist as they yank me upright, tightening as I stumble.  He steadies me, turning to face the guard.  “Let us through.”  The words are cold, detached.  “By order of the crown.”

My breath hitches.  Whatever game he’s playing, I want no part in it.  “Maven–”

“Did you hear me?  Open the doors!”  His grip tightens on my waist as the guard he’s staring at looks past him.  “She needs a healer.”  A sharp exhale.  “And fast.”

I lean against him, barely breathing as I look over his shoulder.  Elara’s dress matches her portrait to the letter, embroidered, beaded and pinned to perfection.  Her eyes, on the other hand . . . 

“Maven.”  Is that fear?  “Maven, stop.”

He doesn’t look at her.  “No,” he breathes, hot and heavy.  “I can’t–I can’t do this anymore.”

“Maven.”  She brushes a hand along his neck, paying no mind to his wince.  “Come now.  This isn’t like you.”  She smiles, a soft thing that clashes with the rest of her.  “There’s no need to run.”

I break free of his grip, gasping.  Run .  He was trying to run.  My hand paws at the floor as the rest of me riots, trembling beneath the threat of her gaze.  The letter opener must still be here.  The letter opener could still save me.

“Maybe.”  Maven almost steps on me when he breaks away.  “Maybe not.  Who am I?  How much did you take from me?”

“Maven, stop it.”  Elara waves a hand and he clutches his head.  “You’re not a child anymore.”

“You still can’t answer.”

My good hand closes around cold metal, a thin line of blood as I fumble for the hilt.  I steel myself, Gwendolyn’s lessons a far off haze.  Arteries.  Bone.  Breath.  Any of them can be turned against you.  Any of them can quickly become lethal.

Her foot slams atop my palm.

Elara snatches the letter opener from the ground, leaning down to position it at my throat.  “Maven.” A whisper, soft and lethal.  “Don’t make me kill her.”

He stills.  Pain pricks my throat as she presses, blood beading on the blade.  I swallow. “Is this what you call love?”  Breathing hurts, but I press on.  “Is this what you call family?”

“Silence, girl.”  She sneers, sliding the blade along my throat in one quick motion.  I gasp, collapsing, blood staining my hands as I push myself back up.  “Worry for your head.”

Maven runs to me, pulling me upright, grabbing my shoulder as he clutches me tight.  “I’m sorry.”  His hands hold no healer’s touch, only the flimsiest of handkerchiefs.  “I’ll stay.  I’ll stay, just–”  His body trembles against mine.  “Stop.  Please stop.  Stop.  I–I–I–stop. I–”  His voice grows high, words running together.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry!”

I glare, hands tightening around his wrists.  “Not good enough.”

Elara sneers.  “What will it take for you to be quiet ?”  She hurls Maven off me, eyes ablaze.  “You’re not queen, girl.  Your word means nothing.”

“Everything.”  I spit at her, thick with blood.  “I’ll never bow.  I’ll never bend.  I’ll never let you make me your son’s Coriane.”

She reels, wiping spit off her mouth.  “You little–”

“Mother.”  Maven lays a hand on her shoulder, suddenly quiet.  “She’s already dying.”

She turns to him, softening.  “Yes.”  She adjusts his collar with a sigh.  “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

“I’m sorry too.”  He won’t look at either of us.  “For everything.”

For one eternal second, he takes her hand in his.  For one eternal second, I almost close my eyes.

And then Elara’s portrait goes up in flames.

Chapter Text

Evangeline

Ability rushes into my limbs like a lightning strike, especially once Wren runs her hands along my spine.  The metal around me snaps into focus, sharp and gleaming, a forest of blades I am quick to snatch up.  Drawer handles, doorknobs, iron accents–they all fly towards me, coating the red and black tile like land mines.  But I don’t dare take from the throne in the center.  

I turn to Anabel with a lethal smile.  “How long til the others arrive?”   

“They’re already here.”  She runs her fingers along the nearest column.  “The wedding was a perfect time to strike.”  

I couldn’t agree more.  I tug up my new boots, Samos black and metal-tipped, flexing the leather gloves.  “Where’s Cal?”  I tie back my hair with a flourish.  “I’m sure you tried to free him first.”

“Ptolemus is bringing him.”  Anabel steps on the nearest corpse, kicking it to the side.  The path to the throne room was slow and bloody, bodies piling up as the guards either died or surrendered.  “He’s not allowed near your cell.”

Of course.  Maven knew he’d be the first person to free me, the first person to even bother to try.  I stare down the hall behind us, flickering with shadows, and huff.  “What’s taking so long?”  My nails, now clad in iron tips, scrape against the marble wall.  “Did Maven send the entire army after them?”

She doesn’t laugh.  Her fingers curl against the column, close to sparking.  “He’s deeper in the dungeons than you were.”  She frowns, hand at her hip.  “We may need backup.”

I curse.  Smoke wisps from Anabel’s fingers as my razors slip from my uniform to circle me, a thin, but deadly barrier.  The buttons of my uniform quiver.  I force them still for now.  “How many Houses do we have?”

“A lot.”  Her lips tug.  “Almost half of court.”

“How long.”  My hand feathers the nearest carving.  “Have you been planning this?”

She stares me dead in the eye.  “Longer than you think.”

And then she slams her fist into the nearest column.

Cracks spread through the marble before it explodes, a deafening clap that shakes the ground.  The sound rings in my ears, too sharp to block out, and I clasp my hands over them.  I hiss.  “A little warning next time?”

She cocks her gun.  “No time.”  She peers around the corner.  “They’re here.”

I don’t have to ask who.  My blades spin faster, caught in my adrenaline as I step into the hall.  A blade embeds in the wall behind me.  I bring it into my orbit and smile.

Tolly grins as he makes his way towards me, plucking a razor from my circle.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise.”  I part my blades to hug him, pulling back with a lethal smile.  “Let’s burn this place to the fucking ground.”

The shadows flare, a new source of light as Cal emerges, flame in one fist.  “Where’s Elara?”  He growls, face dark.  “I have something to say to her.”

Anabel lays a hand on his shoulder, softening.  “Unclear.”  Shouts echo behind us, guards and allies alike.  I ready my stance, and she clears her throat.  “How many followed you?”

“Three.”  Tolly grit his teeth, tapestry rods ripping from the walls and twisting to spears.  “MacCanthos.  Tyros.  Osanos.”

Stoneskin.  Mimic.  Nymph.  My skin prickles as the air dries, water leaching towards what must be the palm of an Osanos.  Anabel slams her hand into another column, letting it crack and tumble in front of us.  It won’t stall them for long.  But it’s a small bit of cover, and I plan to make the most of it.

One of Tolly’s spears whizzes past me, careening down the hall as I slide under the fallen column.  It halts in midair, spinning.

And then it hurls back towards us.

A swipe of my hand sends it skidding to the floor.  The mimic.  A face emerges from the shadows, gray and hard, stone crackling over her features as her hands grow stone claws.  Water begins to drip from the walls.  It grows fists and tendrils, condensing from vapor, spreading through the hall like disembodied limbs.  It’ll be hard to cut through, and harder to boil.

The stoneskin marches forward, and Tolly thrusts another spear at her.  It passes through a square of flame, white-hot as the tip wedges between stone armor.  A watery fist grasps it with a sizzle.

My metal mines skid across the marble.  They cluster at her feet before they climb, another face rushing to the light.  Tirana Osanos.  Her fists curl as she steps on a doorknob, one that twists and skids beneath her.  Her tendrils swirl her above the debris.

Cal flicks his hands, and an entire wall of flame flares behind me.  Tolly’s rods sizzle with heat as they pass through it, some falling from the mimic but many striking the stoneskin.  She wails, stumbling back.  The tendrils try to cool her, but they’re thinning, busy supporting Tirana above the fray.

I am the one who deals the final blow.

An accent rushes through the flames to clamp on her boot, and she falls on the floor with a scream.  “Retreat.”  Her voice barely rises above the flames.  “Retreat!”

My metal quivers against my will, tapping against the marble.  A final face emerges, the rainbow collar of a Tyros, fingers curling as my mines build on top of each other.  A metal monster creaks into existence.  It swipes its massive claw my direction.

I grit my teeth.  My sleeve almost grazes the flames, but I whip it back, honing in on the monster.  I am a Samos, tall and proud: It is trivial to swipe its claws back around.

The Tyros stumbles back, blood seeping through his jacket.  Each button plucks itself off before rocketing into him like bullets.  He groans, then lies limp.

It was easy.

Too easy.

Behind us, Anabel goes pale, her hand suddenly fastened to her cheek.  Her voice is breathy, strained.  “Merandus!”  Her arm jerks.  “They’re gonna–”

Cal tackles her, wrenching her hand away as the air starts to sizzle.  The explosion fizzles with nothing but air to fuel it, Anabel snarling as someone screams down the hall.  “Eve.”  Oh no.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he’s–”

I raise my voice at what must surely be Lupa.  “I didn’t say you could call me that!”

Cal glares at me, hissing.  “Not the time!”  He grabs my hand, yanking me towards the exit.  I sprint past the throne, almost tripping on the dead guards.  His hand tightens, a vice.

And then it begins to heat.

I wrench away before it bursts into flames, off-kilter as the metal tips of my boots jerk out from under me.  My back crashes against the marble.  I clutch my chest as Tolly screams, his hand jerking and wavering as if pulled by a string.  The metal tips tear off my shoes, spinning into the rubble.  Tolly and I have always been equals.  With Cal in the fray, well . . .

I’m sorry!  Lupa’s voice echoes through the hall again, and it takes a moment to realize it’s in my head.  He’ll take you if I don’t–

“Quiet!”  Samson’s voice echoes through the hall, rage simmering through its every inch.  “I spared because you’re Merandus, pipsqueak.  Stay out of the fucking way.”

I snarl as Lupa whimpers, the sound echoing in my bones.  She may be in my head, but my movements are fluid, loose, unencumbered by any command she might give.  “Can you both shut the fuck up?”  My hand tightens around an accent, metal claws screeching against it as it unfurls like a whip.  “You have bigger things to worry about.”

And then the whip curls around his ankle.

Samson stumbles as I yank, fire singing the hairs off my neck.  Cal’s fireball rushes past where my head once was, having ducked out of the way just in time.  The throne burns in my stead, metal bubbling, fabric scorched, the Calore crown bending beneath the weight of its own treason.

I pant.  The whip snaps around my wrist, binding it, Tolly’s extended hand straining against Samson’s will.  His eyes are wide.  “Get him.”  A strangled gasp.  “Get him, Eve.”

He may control Cal’s body, but he doesn’t control his brains, the general who would do more than throw poorly aimed fireballs.  He’s barely made use of Tolly, barely tapped into my refusal to hurt him.  He may rule the arena, but he doesn’t rule actual combat.

I lunge, whip buckling to my will again as I tear my metal nails into his cheek.  Silver flesh dots each iron tip, scraping bone as I hiss with satisfaction.  “Do you know what happens to those who come for Samos?”  I grin.  “No one’s ever lived to tell the tale.”

Another fireball wrenches us apart, one that finally hits me in the shoulder.  I hiss.  Cal strides closer, Tolly with him, flames rising to close around me.  I’m gonna burn.  So will Tolly.  And Cal . . .

A figure drifts through the smoke and ash, one that strides closer and closer.  Elara, I almost think.  The surgeon to his butcher.  Someone who knows well how to kill a queen.  They lay a hand on his gruesome cheek.

And then his head explodes in a thousand bony shards.

Anabel laughs, dusting off her hands.  The flames die, reduced to a spark in Cal’s palm, and Tolly hauls me up.  His brow wrinkles.  “Let’s get you to Wren.”  He brushes my shoulder, and I wince.

“Um–”

My head snaps to the doorway, where Lupa continues to stand.  She clears her throat, fidgeting.  “I’m sorry I went in your head.  It was the only way to keep him out.”

I stare at her, twitching.  “Where were you going?”

She shrinks.  “Home.”  Her voice is small, caught in the wisp and hiss of smoke.  “A better home, at least.”

I sneer.  “What does that mean?”

“Evangeline.”  Cal lays a hand on my shoulder, and I hiss.  “She saved our lives.”

“Perhaps.”  Anabel strides closer, pursing her lips.  “But she is still a whisper.”  Her fingers feather the wall again, and Lupa flinches, moreso when they curl around hers.  “Tell me, whisper, what do you have to gain from this?  What is fueling you to run with the rest of us?”

“I–”  She jerks back, but Anabel holds fast.  “I can’t stay here.’

Cal clamps a hand on his grandmother’s shoulder.  “Let her go.”  His voice is low, dangerous.  “We don’t want to make her mad.”

Lupa exhales, wrenching herself away.  “I can hear her down there.”  She points through the door, the mahogany carved with a flaming crown on either side.  “Down the portrait hall.”

My breath hitches, shoulder still aching.  “Who?”

“The queen.”  She trembles, clutching her chest.  “The older one.  Not Mare.”

She’s not queen, I almost snarl, but we don’t have time.  Barrow will have to wait for another day.  Hour.  Whenever she deigns to show herself.  I open the door as Cal curls his fingers.  Paintings, rows of them, the Calore line and its queens, the hall I am destined to one day decorate.  I stare at the nearest one, blue eyes and brown hair, lip curling as I step into the hall.  My hand feathers the frame.  I look her in the eye and laugh.

Cal startles.  “What are you . . . ?”

“Nothing.”   I shake my head.  “Just musing on good times.”

If Barrow’s my Coriane, why isn’t she dead yet?

I point to the other end of the hall, where one silhouette is barely visible.  A painting hangs above her head, and Cal growls under his breath.  His fist uncurls, rising to his eyeline.

And then Elara’s portrait bursts into flames.

Chapter Text

Maven

Don’t make me kill her.

The words rip through me as I grip Mare’s shoulders, as the pleas fall from my lips and shatter on the floor.  As my handkerchief stains with her blood once more, no longer Evangeline’s but my own mother’s doing.  I can’t save her.  Not as I am.  Not as the person whose wrists she grabs like an anchor.  Not good enough.

I have to let her go.  Have to swallow back every tear, every wayward breath, every second I spend struggling in Mother’s grip.  I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

To both of them.  To my own foolish heart, trapped in a hell of its own making.  My hand tightens on Mother’s shoulder, then her hand, surrendering to my fate.  I am not built for anyone but her.  I am not built for anything but a crown.

I kneel my head.  Around us, heat rises, and I almost mistake it for my own.  Almost.

And then Mother’s portrait goes up in flames.

I stagger back, eyes flickering from the fire to those standing beside me.  Mare still sits against the wall, barely breathing.  Mother stares at me and shakes her head.  “Maven–”

“It’s not mine.”  The words rush out, even if she must already know them.  “I don’t have my flamemakers.”

Red blood pools in droplets at my feet, little flecks of pain and misery.  My fists clench, but the flames rise higher, caught in the wake of someone else’s ability.  I exhale, shaky.  “Get out of here.”  The words quiver, but I force steel behind them.  “I can’t make it stop.”

Mother closes her hand around my arm, but I jerk back.  She grits her teeth.  “No.”  The words drip off her like poison.  “You get out of here.  I’ll kill him where he stands.”

Cal.

Behind us, Mare staggers upright, neck a mess of blood and torn flesh.  I have one chance.  One choice.  One option left, no matter how it pains me.

I grab her hand and run.

Red and orange flood the hall, casting shadows deep enough to swallow.  The scent of burning canvas assaults me as ash falls, as Mare struggles to keep up as I force her forward.  She heaves.  “Did you–”

“No time.”  I don’t look at her, dismissing every guard I come across.  “Can you make it to the train?”

I don’t know what I’m doing.  Why I can’t stop trembling, sweating, panting, weakness I should’ve long excised from my body.

How many times have you not told me?

She coughs.  “I don’t–”  Blood coats her lips.  “I don’t think I can.”

And then her eyes flutter shut.

I catch her as she collapses, all blood and tired limbs.  Her body hangs limp, heavy, so heavy I have to haul her in my arms.  Heat floods my icy skin, the creep of danger.  My fists clench.  Against my better judgment, I feel for the source.  Against my better judgment, I try to smother the flames.

And then they flare even higher.

I glance behind me and wince.  It’s just a portrait.  Just paint and gilded wood.  Still, it burns to see Mother’s face go up in flames, to see the canvas turn to smoke and ash.  I bite my lip.

In my arms, Mare heaves.

I thank the stars for Training as I sprint down the hall, almost tripping on the air beneath me.  My instincts scream for me to drop her, and I hold her even tighter.  Her breath hitches, a soft murmur.  “Maven.”  I almost lose my grip.  “Maven, what are you–”

“Not now,” I hiss.  The door parts with a flick of my wrist, a guard greeting me on the other side.  I raise my voice.  “Where’s the train?”

She clears her throat.  “House Welle has occupied the area.  And Samos seems to be joining them.”

I curse.  Evangeline.  Never content to stay in her place.  “Cut a path, then.”  My words crack like a whip.  “I assume you know how.”

She grits her teeth, then nods.  I look at her badge.  Marinos .  Banshee.  Someone taps my shoulder, and I spin around, only to find Rane Arven’s eyes burning back at me.  “Put her down.”

“No.”

He shakes his head.  “She’s a hazard.  She’ll only slow you down.”

“She’s my queen, and you will treat her as such.”  My lip threatens to tear from how hard I’m biting it.  “Red blood or not.”

He opens his mouth, about to retort.

And then a blade embeds in the side of his neck.

I whip around, barely breathing, another blade piercing the banshee in the heart.  Gwendolyn Samos stares me down, a trio of newbloods beside her.  Nix, Ketha, Lory: Ironskin, bomber, and sensor.

My lips twist to a sneer.  “Lady Samos.”  I twitch.  “I thought you were better than this.”

Another blade strikes the wall behind me.  “Your Majesty.”  Her voice holds no warmth.  “I suggest you come with us.”

I laugh.  “And why would I do that?”

A swish rings in my ear, pain blooming in its wake.  I touch it and come back with blood.  “I don’t understand.”  My breath hitches.  “They hunted you down, killed your lover, married you off–

“They did.”  Gwendolyn hurls another blade, scowling.  “But I’m not running with them.”

My ear throbs, but I force a chuckle.  “My, my, my.  So many traitors tonight.”  Mare stirs in my arms, and I tighten my grip.  “I don’t suppose you want my queen.”

Her eyes flicker to her neck.  “How long have you let her bleed?”

The air, already feverish from the flames, heats to a furnace.  I glance down, fingers digging into ruined ruffles.  Red coats her bodice, seeping through the taffeta, her face so pale she might as well be Silver.  “I made you, Lady Samos, and I can unmake you.”

“Hand her over.”  She extends a hand.  “She needs a healer.”

“Yes.”  I burn, stepping back.  “Now get out of the way.”

“You think you can make it in time?”  Gwendolyn laughs, dark and humorless.  “Come with us.  We’ll bring you back when the coast is clear.”

A hand tugs my shirt, and I jolt.  Mare’s voice comes out in a hiss.  “Maven, if you have any brains–”

“Where’s your healer then, if you’re so insistent?”  I glance behind me, at the throne room crumbling before my eyes.  A column lies in pieces on the floor, the throne melted beyond repair.  I swallow.  “Is it some Newblood I’ve never met?”

“No.”  Gwendolyn gestures to Lory, and she nods.  “Someone Silver.  Someone your Mother hated, and agreed to help us if we helped her.”

I step back again, almost tripping on the ruined tile.  “Do you always speak in riddles?”  My heart races.  “I’m getting Wren.  Scram.”  My voice lowers.  “Or hit me, if you so dare.”

She hesitates.

And then Ketha lobs an explosion at my head.

I stagger back, grip slipping, Mare tumbling from my arms and crashing to the floor.  Silver floods my vision, pain at the back of my head.  Lory claps her hands over her ears.  Gwendolyn reaches for me, hand closing around my arm.

It’s the last thing I see before it all goes black.

Chapter Text

Mare

Maven’s hand burns as he tugs me through the flames, past the portraits, past the guards, past any semblance of the life we could’ve lived.  He could’ve lived.  I would’ve been six feet under.

I heave.  “Did you–”

“No time.”  He dismisses the nearest guard, still gripping me tight.  “Can you make it to the train?”

I choke, coughing up bloody spittle.  “I don’t–”  My eyes are heavy.  “I don’t think I can.”

Maven stops, lips moving in a sound I can’t hear.  My fingers press against his chest as the rest of me flies away, somewhere safe from this hell of our own making.  I faintly register his arms beneath me, the floor disappearing, the smoke growing thicker as my eyes flutter shut.

The rest is a blur.

I know Gwendolyn was there.  I know I gripped his shirt so hard it must’ve torn.  I know he started some stupid argument.  And now . . . 

I crane my head to Ketha, swallowing.  “Did you kill him?”

I didn’t expect the despair.  I didn’t expect the ache, the grief, this new hole opening in my chest.  “He was running.  He was–”  I choke.  “He was actually going to save me.”

“Calm down.”  Gwendolyn runs a hand along the ruined marble, peering through the new entrance.  “He’s still breathing.”

I heave, leaning down to check his pulse.  His cheeks are flushed, strange and gray, and I have the sudden urge to kiss him like a fairytale prince.  “Maven!”  I smack his cheek, and he stirs, a sharp exhale.  “Maven, I swear on your stupid colors–”

His hand twitches.  “Mare.”  He reaches for my cheek.  “Where are we?”

My hand flies to my neck, smooth and whole, and my heart skips a beat.  “Still in the hall.”  I swivel, scanning the walls, not yet aflame, and find a new face, one I barely remember.  I point to him, unsteady.  “Fletcher.”  My voice is hoarse.  “You’re a healer?”

He nods.  Behind me, Maven rises, staring down the hall.  “Mother.”  I wince.  “She’s down there.  Alone.”  He quivers.  “I have to–”

“No.”  I hold up a hand, eyes hard.  “If you go to her, she won’t let you leave.  She’ll hold onto your mind until the guards come back, until you’re in her cage again with nowhere to run.”  I stare him dead in the eye.  “She might even take away the parts that disobeyed her.”

Maven halts.  He wavers, stepping back, then forward, rooted to the spot as I lay a hand on his shoulder.  I lean closer, caressing his chin.  “Do you want to leave, Maven?”

I hold my breath.  There’s something in him that saved me, something in him that wants to finally breathe.  The way he faltered when I asked what was still his.  

“Yes.”  Maven pulls away.  “But I can’t–”

“She’s a whisper.”  I shake my head.  “She’ll be fine.”

He stares at me, a flicker of hesitation, and I grab his hand and pull him towards the hole in the wall.  My wrists feel lighter, more electric, and I realize the bracelets are gone.  Gwendolyn holds them in one hand, face grim.  “We might need these later.”  She eyes Maven, who finally climbs through the rubble.  “Just in case.”

My mind races, tallying our losses.  “Where’s Lupa?”  I swallow.  “And the rest of the newbloods?”

“On the train.”  She tucks the bracelets in her bag, swinging it back over her shoulder.  “Sara’s missing.”  Her voice is low, almost a growl.  “You’re right, Your Majesty.  So many traitors tonight.”

Maven sneers, and I shove him forward.  “Keep moving.”  I can’t hide the shake beneath my words.  “We can’t afford to dawdle.”

He exhales, gripping my hand.  “Of course.”  He looks into my eyes, a desperate plea, and I find myself squeezing back.  “You don’t think–”

“Quit it, lovebirds.”  Gwendolyn snaps her fingers between us, and Maven glowers.  “We have a train to catch.”

I nod, almost collapsing as I stumble on a vine.  Maven helps me up, lips parting before he’s suddenly yanked to the ground.  Flowers bloom at his feet, and so do their thorns, slicing through skin as I slash the letter opener through them.  Maven yelps, foot going limp as he falls flat on the pavement.

Gwendolyn sends a flurry of shards through the dimly lit room, silver catching on some while others sail through the dark.  I search for lights, and find none.  But the cameras fall with a flick of my fingertips.

More vines snake past us as the ceiling begins to writhe, tendrils dropping down and curling around each other to form walls.  I catch a glimpse of Heron through the dense thicket, her father by her side.  I shake my head with a scoff.  “Maven!”  Worry creeps through my voice despite me.  “What’s taking so long?”

He pushes himself up, collapsing a moment later.  His foot is twisted at a painful angle, and my fingers crackle, sizzling the nearest vine.  Maven‘s voice is thick with pain.  “Are you going to leave me?”

I close my eyes, rippling with sparks.  “No.”  My fingers twitch, and I thrust all my energy into the canopy.  “Not this time.”

Something flickers in my periphery, a spark, then a roar, a burst of electricity not far from our feet.  The train.  Someone has turned it on.

Someone is trying to leave without us.

A bolt of lightning cracks through the clearing, and it takes a second to register as my own.  Maven stares, eyes wide with awe as I sear through the thicket.  The remnants rain down on us, but the vines still wriggle below, climbing over Maven as he kicks and squirms.  “Mare!” A stem twines around his hand, but he has no flamemakers to burn it.  “Mare, I can’t–”

Gwendolyn’s shards wrap around him, slicing, leaving nicks all over his bare skin, tiny, but no doubt painful.  Better than suffocation by vine.

He winces, dragging himself across the ground.  He won’t make it.  He can’t make it.

My arms are not gentle as I slide them beneath his body, cradling him as I sprint towards what must be the train.  “Where’s Lady Samos?”  His heart beats faster than mine, faster still as he grips my shoulder.  “I–”  He falters.  “She better know how that train works.”

“Shut up.”  My blood, still crusting my gown, mixes with the silver seeping from his cuts.  “Shut up, you–you–”  A vine sizzles against my hair, no doubt aiming for my neck.  “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

He has the audacity to smile.  “Your bastard.”

“For the love.”  I almost toss him then and there, wincing as another thicket begins to weave in front of us.  I swallow.  “Gwendolyn!”  My heart roars in my ears.  “Gwendolyn, now would be a great time to–”

“On it!”  A different voice cuts through the shadows, Lupa rushing past us with greater speed than I thought possible.  The vines go limp, curling back, screams ringing out in their wake.  Lupa pales.  She pushes forward regardless.

“LUPA.”  Gwendolyn’s voice carries through the chaos to send shudders down my spine.  “WHY AREN’T YOU ON THE TRAIN?”

“Cameron told me–”  Her mouth snaps shut, but it’s too late.  All of Gwendolyn’s shards collide with the ground at once, sending us stumbling back.  Her gaze could weather stone to ash.  Lupa swallows.  “You guys needed me.”  Her voice is small, feeble.  “I know–”

My tongue is leaden.  “Not now.”  I tighten my grip on Maven, who tightens his in turn.  “Get on the train.”  I lower my voice.  “Before it leaves without us.”

As if on cue, something moves in the dark, the creak of metal and whisper of smoke.  I kick the vines out of my way as the train sputters to life, Maven almost jumping in my grip.  Lupa cups her hands around her mouth.  “Cameron!”  She rushes along the edge, closer enough to fall onto the tracks.  “Cameron, I’m back!”

The train screeches to a halt, but the doors don’t open.  I lay a hand on the metal.  “Open, or I’ll shock everyone inside.”

Stillness.

Light spills from the car ahead as the doors slide open, a head popping out before Gwendolyn shoots past us.  She knocks the person back, hands splayed at her neck.  “You have three seconds to tell me why you let my daughter off this train.”

“Mom!”  Lupa’s voice rips through my brain and makes me want to clutch my ears, and it seems I’m not the only one.  Maven rubs the side of his head.  Gwendolyn stumbles back like she’s been burned.

Ada massages her throat, coughing.  “Thank you, dear.”  Her eyes, once alight with curiosity, now gleam with dull terror.  “She left on her own.  We didn’t think–”

“Shut up.”  Gwendolyn twitches, blades nestling at her back to form razor-sharp wings.  “I don’t care.”

“Mom, listen.”  Lupa hugs her, barely avoiding the blades at her back.  “I wanted to see where you were.  I-I-I–”  She buries her face in her chest.  “Cameron told me you weren’t there.  So I made them let me out.”

Made them.   From a Merandus, even one so small, the words are sharp as a threat.  “Lady Samos.”  I step forward, setting Maven on the train floor.  “Can you save the dramatics for when we’re off the train?”

Her wings twitch, and Lupa plucks a blade from them.  “She will.”  She grins, and for a moment, I’m almost proud.  Almost.  Gwendolyn starts bickering with Nix, gripping Lupa tight against her.  The whisper girl turns the blade over in her fingers.  “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere.”  I slump against the wall, drained.  Maven shifts so his head is in my lap, fingers tracing the path of blood on my arm.  “Montfort, maybe.”

If someone corrects me, I don’t know, lost in the clamor of Nix and company shutting the doors.  The train shifts again, racing through the tracks, and I loll my head.  Maven looks up at me, trembling. I almost laugh. “Why’d you do it?”

The blood smears onto his fingertips.  “I lived that life for long enough.”  He closes his eyes.  “I don’t know if I’ll live again.”

I scoff.  “Gwendolyn’s not gonna kill you.  I won’t let her.”

He laughs, eyes fluttering with something I can’t place.  “You’re my wife now.”

“But not your queen.”

“Right.”  His fingers feather over mine as I lay a hand on his chest.  “I left for me, Mare.”  A shuddering breath.  “Not you.”

“Of course.”  My chest tightens.  “I didn’t think you had.”

He closes his eyes again, and my heart skips a beat.  “I’m scared.”  His shoulders shake.  “I’m so fucking scared.”

I force him upright, beckoning Fletcher over.  “You think she’ll come back.”

“I don’t know.”  He grips my hand so hard it might break.  “She’s either dead, or coming for me as we speak.”  A shaky exhale.  “I know which is worse, but–”

I shut him up with a kiss, cupping his cheek with my bloodstained fingertips.  His blood, still seeping from the cuts, just as mine still coats my bodice.  He looks down, head tilting.  “You ever gonna change out of that?”

“It’s the nicest dress I’ve ever worn.”  I fiddle with the torn tulle.  “And now it’s covered in blood.”

Maven eyes the new silver dotted amidst the crimson.  “Yours and mine.”

A single tear runs down his cheek, and I kiss that too, only pausing to let Fletcher mend his foot.  Maven stares into the distance.  “You’re right, Mare.  I am a coward.”

My hands ghost over the cuts, little wounds already starting to scab over.  I don’t tell him he isn’t, not when it took him this long to run.  I only squeeze his hand.  “When you killed your father, you said that girl seduced Cal to do it.”  I squeeze harder, unwilling or unable to let it go.  “I wonder what lies they’ll make about us.”

The train rumbles on, dark and steady, fading like ink in the rain as it pulls us into the night.

Chapter Text

Evangeline

The portrait takes a while to burn.

Smoke wisps from the edges as the canvas curls, fumes rising as the paint burns with it.  My lips tug with satisfaction as Elara’s eyes snap to us.  It fades soon enough.

Cal draws the flame towards him, lining the walls.  “The smoke will kill her.”  His voice is low, dangerous.  “If we stay out of her range long enough.”

I nod, squinting down the hall, a few shapes flickering through the flames.  Dark hair, pale skin, military uniform–Maven Calore has made his entrance, feeble as it may be.  He can’t burn.  But perhaps Barrow will.

The smoke grows thicker, coalescing down the hall, and I turn to Cal.  “Can you direct the smoke?”

He frowns.  “Vaguely.”  A sharp exhale.  “It’ll be better with a windweaver.”

The rest, well . . .

Smoke.

Blades.

My silent stone manacles.

It’s all it takes to bring her to her knees.  All it takes to turn a queen to a prisoner.  It’s a feeling I know all too well.  A feeling that rings dead in my chest as I stand above her.  I force her to look me in the eye.  “If Barrow’s my Coriane . . . “  I smile, soft and deadly.  “What does that make you?”

It’s the last thing she sees before the smoke blacks her out.

I could do worse.

Cal lays a hand on my shoulder, and I bristle.  It’s not the gentle sweep of Elane’s fingers, nor the reassuring squeeze of Tolly’s.  Instead, I’m reminded of this morning, of my parents announcing the plans they left me out of.

You were too close, my dear.  We couldn’t risk her plucking the details from your mind.

They knew all along.  Schemed with Anabel to pry a path to the throne, letting me rot in humiliation for as long as it took.  My betrothal is renewed.   My crown is ensured.  They did what they knew was best.

Even if it meant lying to me.

Cal clears his throat.  His flamemakers glisten in the dim light, metal quivering as I steady my breath.  “I can do it myself.”

A tempting offer.  There is nothing I want less than to stand before Elara Merandus again, to learn what happens to queens that have outlived their usefulness.  Her whispers may be silent, but her tongue is still sharp.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”  I swat his hand away.  “You’re not facing her alone.”

His fists curl, on the verge of argument before drawing back.  “You’re right.”  He glances ahead at the silent stone creeping through the marble.  “She loves poking where I’m weak.”

“It isn’t hard.”

He gives me a pointed look.  “Not now.”

“Hmpf.”  I march ahead, drawing a razor from my armor so it hovers at my wrist.  “I can do this myself.”

Cal shakes his head.  “I need to face her.”

“Suit yourself.”  I toss my hair, and it lands on his face.  “I’m here because my parents made me.”

He winces.  Parents.   Perhaps I should have chosen my words more carefully.  “I won’t tell them.  Not if you don’t want me to.”

Mother’s voice returns with a vengeance.   All I want is for you to succeed.

“She’ll be weak from the silent stone.”  His fists curl.  “She won’t be able to pry as easily as she’s accustomed to.”

“All the better for us.”  I pat his shoulder as if I weren’t having an existential crisis.  The stairs are sloppy, uneven, unfit for a guard, much less royalty.  My razor falters with each stretch of silence, clattering to the ground once we cross the threshold.  

Elara Merandus glares at us through her cell, arms drawn taut by manacles on either side.  Her feet are unbound, and she kicks in our direction.  “Unchain me, cowards.”

“Hmm.”  I circle her, stroking the chains as I would a cat.  “What do you think, Cal?  Shall we free her?”

His jaw twitches.  “No.”  The words are rough, heavy with something I don’t understand.  “I don’t think so.”

She cackles.  “Taking lessons from my son, are we?”  The chains swing, doing little to contain her manic grin.  “He learned it from me.”

Cal stiffens, a coil pressed to breakage.  “You ruined him.”

Elara scoffs.  “I made him strong.”

I step forward, clucking my tongue.  The sword gleams in Cal’s sheath, silent and still, and I curse the stone for blinding me so.  For dulling the thrum of steel, the quiver of chains, the chime of flamemakers gliding over one another.  She is less, but so am I.

I will make her suffer for it.

“Nanabel sends her greetings.”  Cal steps forward, hand at his hip.  “And her curses.”

She spits.  “Old hag.”

“Takes one to know one.”  I smirk.  “Any last words?”

“Have you killed the Barrow girl?”  Elara scowls, chains twitching.  “She made off with my son.  I would like him back.”

Cal draws his sword, a swish of metal and air, steeling as he stares her down once more.  “Worry for your head, Elara.”

“She’s smarter than your mother, at least.  What a pathetic creature.”  She swings her feet to no avail.  “What Tibe saw in her, I’ve no idea.  Weakness must prefer company.”

The blade wavers, a dull threat buckling upon deliverance.  Last time he drew it, a different head fell.  This must not have been his idea.

Elara laughs.  “What’s wrong?  Tibe caught your tongue?"

The blade halts inches from her neck.  Cal draws back, barely breathing.  This is not a vengeance he knows how to make.

But I do.

I know metal, how fire forges steel of iron and ore.  How the edges serrate to better saw through bone, the weight of the hilt balanced to keep it steady.  The blade is ceremonial, but no less deadly.

I snatch it from Cal and swing.

The blade catches on her throat and cuts deep, a wound that makes tears well from her eyes.  I slice harder, swinging at different angles until the flesh finally severs.  The head that rolls is not the one I see, too many echoing in the queen's eyes.  Anabel's, Mare's, mine--they all lie on the chopping block, one wrong step from defeat.

I hand it back, watching as he sheathes it once more.  He sighs.  “Thank you.”

My head bobs as I stare out the window, at my freedom stretching just out of reach.  I cannot let my hesitation show.  Not here.  Not now.  I can only hope for defeat, a vengeance that is not my own.

Give me a spark, Barrow.  I would love to watch it burn.

Chapter Text

I started the sequel, Red Ruin!  You can read the prologue here.

Chapter Text

Hi!  I know I've posted about this before and deleted the chapter because I thought nominations were done, but they've been extended due to low nominations/Seph being busy.  Basically, on tumblr there's an account called @nortaeventcouncil that hosts red queen fandom events (including a gift exchange last winter) and a couple years ago, they hosted a fanfic awards contest, where people nominated fics and then voted on their favorite ones.  They're hosting it again this year, and I would be honored if you nominated me!  The categories are:

Best fanfiction

Best Multichapter

Best Oneshot

Best Incomplete/Ongoing

Best AU:

Best fluff

Best Angst

Best Platonic/Gen

Best Marecal

Best Mareven

Best Evane

Best Thomaven

Best Farley/Shade

Best Rarepair

Best Artist

Best Original Character

and

Best Creator

Obviously you can vote whatever you want but if you can't choose these are my preferences (links provided):