Red Queen

“Absolutely not,” Maven rumbles. “She’s been training for only two weeks; you’ll cut her apart.”

In response, Evangeline just shrugs, letting a lazy smirk rise to her features. Her fingers dance against her leg, and I can almost feel them like claws across my skin.

“So what if she does?” Sonya breaks in, and I think I see a gleam of her grandmother in her eye. “The healers are here. There’ll be no harm done. Besides, if she’s going to train with us, she might as well do it properly, right?”

No harm done, I scoff in my head. No harm but my blood exposed for all to see. My heartbeat thumps in my head, quickening with every passing second. Overhead, the lights shine brightly, illuminating the ring; my blood will be hard to hide, and they’ll see me for what I am. The Red, the liar, the thief.

“I’d like some more time observing before I get in the ring, if you don’t mind,” I reply, trying my best to sound Silver. Instead, my voice quavers. Evangeline catches it.

“Too scared to fight?” she goads, lazily flicking a hand. One of her knives, a little thing like a tooth of silver, circles her wrist slowly in open threat. “Poor little lightning girl.”

Yes, I want to scream. Yes, I am scared. But Silvers don’t admit things like that. Silvers have their pride, their strength—and nothing else. “When I fight, I intend to win,” I say instead, throwing her words back in her face. “I’m not a fool, Evangeline, and I cannot win yet.”

“Training outside the ring can only get you so far, Mareena,” Sonya purrs, latching on to my lie with glee. “Don’t you agree, Instructor? How can she ever expect to win if she doesn’t try?”

Arven knows there’s something different about me, a reason for my ability and my strength. But what that is, he cannot fathom, and there’s a glint of curiosity in his eye. He wants to see me in the ring as well. And my only allies, Cal and Maven, exchange worried glances, wondering how to proceed across such shaky ground. Didn’t they expect this? Didn’t they think it would come to this?

Or maybe this is what I’ve been headed for all along. An accidental death in Training, another lie for the queen to tell, a fitting death for the girl who doesn’t belong. It’s a trap I willingly stepped into.

The game will be over. And everyone I love will have lost.

“Lady Titanos is the daughter of a dead war hero and you can do nothing but tease her,” Cal growls, throwing daggered glances at the girls. They barely seem to notice, almost laughing at his poor defense. He might be a born fighter, but he’s at a loss when it comes to words.

Sonya is even more incensed, her sly nature taking hold. Whereas Cal is a warrior in the ring, she is a soldier of speech, and twists his words with frightening ease. “A general’s daughter should do well in the ring. If anything, Evangeline should be afraid.”

“She wasn’t raised by a general, don’t be foolish—,” Maven sneers. He’s much better at this sort of thing, but I cannot let him win my battles. Not with these girls.

“I will not fight,” I say again. “Challenge someone else.”

When Evangeline smiles, her teeth white and sharp, my old instincts ring in my head like a bell. I barely have time to drop as her knife burns through the air, cutting through the spot where my neck was seconds before.

“I challenge you,” she snaps, and another blade flies at my face. More rise from her belt, ready to cut me to ribbons.

“Evangeline, stop—,” Maven shouts, and Cal pulls me to my feet, his eyes alive with worry. My blood sings, coursing with adrenaline, my pulse so loud I almost miss his whispered words.

“You’re faster. Keep her on the run. Don’t be afraid.” Another knife blazes by, this time digging into the ground at my feet. “Don’t let her see you bleed.”

Over his shoulder, Evangeline prowls like a predatory cat, a glittering storm of knives in her fist. In that instant, I know nothing and no one will stop her. Not even the princes. And I cannot give her the chance to win. I cannot lose.

A bolt of lightning escapes me, streaking through the air at my command. It hits her in the chest and she staggers back, colliding with the outer wall of the arena. But instead of looking angry, Evangeline regards me with glee.

“This will be quick, little lightning girl,” she snarls, wiping away a trickle of silverblood.

All around, the other students draw back, glancing between the two of us. This could be the last time they see me alive. No, I think again. I cannot lose. My focus intensifies, deepening my sense of power until it’s so strong I hardly notice the walls shifting around us. With a click, Provos re-forms the arena, locking us in together, a Red girl and a smiling Silver monster.

She grins across at me, and razor-thin pieces of metal peel off the floor, shaped to her will. They curl and shudder and scrape into a living nightmare. Her usual blades are gone, tossed aside for a new tactic. The metal things, creatures of her mind, skitter across the floor to stop at her feet. Each one has eight razored legs, sharp and cruel. They quiver as they wait to be released, to cut me apart. Spiders. A horrible crawling sensation prickles my skin, like they’re already upon me.

Sparks come to life in my hands, dancing between my fingers. The lights flicker as the energy in the room bleeds into me like water soaking into a sponge. Power races through me, driven by my own strength—and by need. I will not die here.

On the other side of the wall, Maven smiles, but his face is pale, afraid. Next to him, Cal doesn’t move. A soldier doesn’t blink until the battle is won.

“Who has the advantage?” Instructor Arven asks. “Mareena or Evangeline?”

No one raises a hand. Not even Evangeline’s friends. Instead, they stare between us, watching our abilities grow.

Evangeline’s smile fades into a sneer. She’s used to being favored, to being the one everyone’s afraid of. And now she’s angrier than ever.

Again, the lights flicker on and off, as my body hums like an overloaded wire. In the flashing darkness, her spiders scrabble over the floor, their metal legs clanging in terrible harmony.

And then all I know is fear and power and the surge of energy in my veins.

Darkness and light explode back and forth, plunging us both into a strange battle of flickering color. My lightning bursts through the darkness, streaking purple and white as it shatters through spiders at every turn. Cal’s advice echoes in my head, and I keep moving, never sticking to one spot on the floor long enough for Evangeline to hurt me. She weaves through her spiders, dodging my sparks as best she can. Jagged metal tears at my arms, but the leather suit holds firm. She’s fast, but I’m faster, even with spiders clawing around my legs. For a second, her infuriating silver braid passes through my fingertips, before she’s out of reach again. But I’ve got her on the run. I’m winning.

I hear Maven through the shriek of metal and cheering classmates, roaring for me to finish her. The lights flash, making her hard to spot, but for a brief moment, I feel what it’s like to be one of them. To feel strength and power absolutely, to know you can do what millions can’t. Evangeline feels like this every day, and now it’s my turn. I’ll teach you what it’s like to know fear.

A fist slams against the small of my back, shooting pain through the rest of my body. My knees buckle with the agony, sending me to the ground. Evangeline pauses above me, her smile surrounded by a messy curtain of silver hair.

“Like I said,” she snarls. “Quick.”

My legs move on their own, swinging out in a maneuver I’ve used in the back alleys of the Stilts a hundred times. Even on Kilorn once or twice. My foot connects with her leg, sweeping it out from under her, and she crashes to the floor next to me. I’m on her in a second, despite the exploding pain in my back. My hands crackle with hot energy, even as they collide against her face. Pain sears through my knucklebones but I keep going, wanting to see sweet silverblood.

“You’ll wish it was quick,” I roar, bearing down on her.

Somehow, through her bruising lips, Evangeline manages to laugh. The sound melts away, replaced by metallic screeching. And all around us, the fallen, electrified spiders twitch to life. Their metal bodies re-form, weaving together at the seams, into a ruinous, smoking beast.

It skitters with surprising speed, knocking me off her. I’m the one pinned now, looking up at the heaving, twisting shards of metal. The sparks die in my hands, driven away by fear and exhaustion. Even the healers won’t be able to save me after this.

A razor leg drags across my face, drawing red, hot blood. I hear myself scream, not in pain, but defeat. This is the end.

And then a blazing arm of fire knocks the metal monster off me, burning it into nothing more than a charred black pile of ash. Strong hands pull me to my feet and then go to my hair, pulling it across my face to hide the red mark that could betray me. I turn in to Maven, letting him walk me from the training room. Every inch of me shakes, but he keeps me steady and moving. A healer comes my way, but Cal heads him off, blocking my face from his sight.

Before the door slams behind us, I hear Evangeline yelling and Cal’s usually calm voice yelling right back, roaring over her like a storm.

My voice breaks when I finally speak again. “The cameras, the cameras can see.”

“Sentinels sworn to my mother man the cameras, trust me, they aren’t what we should be worrying about,” Maven says, almost tripping over his words. He keeps a tight grip on my arm, like he’s afraid I might be pulled away from him. His hand ghosts over my face, wiping away the blood with his sleeve. If anyone sees . . .

“Take me to Julian.”

“Julian’s a fool,” he mutters.

Figures appear at the far end of the hall, a pair of roaming nobles, and he pushes us down a service passage to avoid them.

“Julian knows who I am,” I whisper back, grabbing on to him. As his grip tightens, so does mine. “Julian will know what to do.”

Maven looks down on me, conflicted, but finally nods. By the time we reach Julian’s quarters, the bleeding has stopped, but my face is still a mess.

He opens the door on the first knock, looking his usual haphazard self. To my surprise, he frowns at Maven.

“Prince Maven,” he says, bending into a stiff, almost insulting bow. Maven doesn’t respond, only pushes me past Julian into the sitting room beyond.

Julian has a small set of rooms, made smaller by darkness and stale air. The curtains are drawn, blotting out the afternoon sun, and the floor is slippery with loose stacks of paper. A kettle simmers in the corner, on an electric piece of metal meant to replace a stove. No wonder I never see him outside of Lessons; he appears to have everything he needs right here.

“What’s going on?” he asks, waving us to a pair of dusty chairs. Obviously he doesn’t entertain much. I take a seat, but Maven refuses, still standing.

I draw aside my curtain of hair, revealing the shining red flag of my identity. “Evangeline got carried away.”

Julian shifts, uncomfortable on his own two feet. But it’s not me making him squirm; it’s Maven. The two glare at each other, at odds over something I don’t understand. Finally, he turns his gaze back on me. “I’m not a skin healer, Mare. The best I can do is clean you up.”

“I told you,” Maven says. “He can’t do anything.”

Julian’s lip curls into a snarl. “Find Sara Skonos,” he snaps, his jaw tightening as he waits for Maven to move. I’ve never seen Maven this angry, not even with Cal. But then, it’s not anger spilling out from Maven or Julian—it’s hate. They absolutely despise each other.

“Do it, my prince.” The title sounds like a curse coming from Julian’s lips.

Maven finally concedes and slips out the door.

“What’s that all about?” I whisper, gesturing between Julian and the door.

“Not now,” he says, and tosses me a white cloth to clean myself with. It stains a dark red as my blood ruins the fabric.

“Who’s Sara Skonos?”

Again, Julian hesitates. “A skin healer. She’ll take care of you.” He sighs. “And she’s a friend. A discreet friend.”

I didn’t know Julian had friends beyond me and his books, but I don’t question him.

When Maven slips back into the room a few moments later, I’ve managed to clean my face properly, though it still feels sticky and swollen. I’ll have a few bruises to hide tomorrow, and I don’t even want to know what my back looks like now. Gingerly, I touch the growing lump where Evangeline punched me.

“Sara’s not . . .” Maven pauses, mulling over the words. “She’s not who I would have chosen for this.”

Before I can ask why, the door opens, revealing the woman I assume is Sara. She enters silently, barely raising her eyes. Unlike the others, the Blonos blood healers, her age is displayed proudly on her face, in every wrinkle and her sunken, hollow cheeks. She looks to be about Julian’s age, but her shoulders droop in a way that tells me her life has felt far longer than his.

“Nice to meet you, Lady Skonos.” My voice is calm, like I’m asking about the weather. It seems my Protocol lessons might be sinking in after all.

But Sara doesn’t respond. Instead, she drops to her knees in front of my chair and takes my face in her rough hands. Her touch is cool, like water on a sunburn, and her fingers trail over the gash on my cheek with surprising gentleness. She works diligently, healing over the other bruises on my face. Before I can mention my back, she slips a hand down to the injury, and something like soothing ice bleeds through the pain. It’s all over in a few moments, and I feel like I did when I first came here. Better, in fact. My old aches and bruises are completely gone.

“Thank you,” I say, but again, I get no response.

“Thank you, Sara,” Julian breathes, and her eyes dart to his in a flash of gray color. Her head bows slightly, in the tiniest nod. He reaches forward, a hand brushing her arm as he helps her to her feet. The two of them move like partners in a dance, listening to music no one else can hear.

Maven’s voice shatters their silence. “That will be all, Skonos.”

Sara’s quiet calm melts into barely concealed anger as she spins out of Julian’s grip, scrambling for the door like a wounded animal. The door shuts behind her with a slam, shaking the framed maps in their glass prisons. Even Julian’s hands shake, trembling long after she’s gone, like he can still feel her.

He tries to hide it, but not well: Julian was in love with her once, and maybe even still is. He looks at the door like a man haunted, waiting for her to come back.

“Julian?”

“The longer you’re gone, the more people will start to talk,” he mutters, gesturing for us to leave.

“I agree.” Maven moves to the door, ready to open it and shove me back out.

“Are you sure no one saw?” My hand moves to my cheek, now smooth and clean.

Maven pauses, thinking. “No one who would say anything.”

“Secrets don’t stay secrets here,” Julian mutters. His voice quivers with rare anger. “You know that, Your Highness.”

“You should know the difference between secrets,” Maven snaps, “and lies.”

His hand closes around my wrist, pulling me back out into the hall before I can bother to ask what’s going on. We don’t make it far before a familiar figure stops us.

“Trouble, dear?”

Queen Elara, a vision in silk, addresses Maven. Strangely, she’s alone, with no Sentinels to guard her. Her eyes linger on his hand still in mine. For once, I don’t feel her try to push her way into my thoughts. She’s in Maven’s head right now, not mine.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Maven says, tightening his grip on me like I’m some kind of anchor.

She raises an eyebrow, not believing a word he says, but doesn’t question him. I doubt she really questions anyone; she knows all the answers.

“Best hurry up, Lady Mareena, or you’ll be late for luncheon,” she purrs, finally turning her ghostly eyes on me. And then it’s my turn to hold on to Maven. “And take a little more care in your Training sessions. Red blood is just so hard to clean up.”

“You would know,” I snap, remembering Shade. “Because no matter how hard you try to hide it, I see it all over your hands.”

Her eyes widen, surprised at my outburst. I don’t think anyone’s ever spoken to her this way, and it makes me feel like a conqueror. But it doesn’t last long.

Suddenly my body twitches backward, throwing itself into the passage wall with a resounding smack. She makes me dance like a puppet on violent strings. Every bone rattles and my neck cracks, slamming my head back until I see icy blue stars.

No, not stars. Eyes. Her eyes.

“Mother!” Maven shouts, but his voice sounds far away. “Mother, stop!”

A hand closes around my throat, holding me in place as control of my own body ebbs away. Her breath is sweet on my face, too sweet to stand.

“You will not speak to me like that again,” Elara says, too angry to bother whispering in my head. Her grip tightens, and I couldn’t even agree with her if I wanted to.

Why doesn’t she just kill me? I wonder as I gasp for breath. If I’m such a burden, such a problem, why doesn’t she just kill me?

“That’s enough!” Maven roars, the heat of his anger pulsing through the passage. Even through the hazy darkness eating at my vision, I see him pull her off me with surprising strength and boldness.

Her ability’s hold on me breaks, letting me slump against the wall. Elara almost stumbles herself, reeling with shock. Now her glare turns on Maven, on her own son standing against her.

“Return to your schedule, Mare.” He seethes, not breaking eye contact with his mother. I don’t doubt she’s screaming in his head, scolding him for protecting me. “Go!”

Heat crackles all around, radiating off his skin, and for a moment I’m reminded of Cal’s guarded temper. It seems Maven hides a fire as well, an even stronger one, and I don’t want to be around when it explodes.

As I scramble away, trying to put as much distance as I can between myself and the queen, I can’t help but look back at them. They stare at each other, two pieces squaring off in a game I don’t understand.

Back in my room, the maids wait silently, another gilded dress laid across their arms. While one slips me into the spectacle of silk and purple gemstones, the others fix my hair and makeup. As usual, they don’t say a word, even though I look frantic and harried after such a morning.

Lunch is a mixed affair. Usually the women eat together to discuss the upcoming weddings and all the silly things rich ladies talk about, but today is different. We’re back on the terrace overlooking the river, the red uniforms of servants floating through the crowd, but there are far more military uniforms than ever before. It seems like we’re dining with a full legion.

Cal and Maven are there as well, both glittering in their medals, and they smile through pleasant conversation while the king himself shakes hands with the soldiers. All the soldiers are young, in gray uniforms cut with silver insignia. Nothing like the ratty red fatigues my brothers and any other Reds get when they’re conscripted. These Silvers are going to war, yes, but not to the real fighting. They’re the sons and daughters of important people, and to them, the war is just another place to visit. Another step in their training. To us, to me once, it is a dead end. It is doom.

But I still have to do my duty, to smile and shake their hands and thank them for their brave service. Each word tastes bitter, until I have to duck away from the crowd to an alcove half hidden by plants. The noise of the crowd still rises with the midday sun, but I can breathe again. For a second, at least.

“Everything okay?”

Cal stands over me, looking worried but strangely relaxed. He likes being around soldiers; I suppose it’s his natural habitat.

Even though I want to disappear, my spine straightens. “I’m not a fan of beauty pageants.”

He frowns. “Mare, they’re going to the front. I’d think you of all people would want to give them a proper send-off.”

The laugh escapes me like gunfire. “What part of my life makes you think I’d care about these brats going off to war like it’s some kind of vacation?”

“Just because they’ve chosen to go doesn’t make them any less brave.”

“Well, I hope they enjoy their barracks and supplies and reprieves and all the things my brothers were never given.” I doubt these willing soldiers will ever want for so much as a button.

Even though he looks like he wants to yell at me, Cal swallows the urge. Now that I know what his temper is capable of, I’m surprised he can keep himself in check at all.

“This is the first completely Silver legion going into the trenches,” he says evenly. “They’re going to fight with the Reds, dressed as Reds, serving with Reds. The Lakelanders won’t know who they are when they get to the Choke. And when the bombs fall, when the enemy tries to break the line, they’re going to get more than they bargained for. The Shadow Legion will take them all.”

Suddenly I feel hot and cold at the same time. “Original.”

But Cal doesn’t gloat. Instead, he looks sad. “You gave me the idea.”

“What?”

“When you fell into Queenstrial, no one knew what to do. I’m sure the Lakelanders will feel the same.”

Though I try to speak, no sound comes out. I’ve never been a point of inspiration for anything, let alone combat maneuvers. Cal stares at me like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t speak. Neither of us knows what to say.

A boy from our training, the windweaver Oliver, claps a hand on Cal’s shoulder while the other clutches a sloshing drink. He wears a uniform too. He’s going to fight.

“What’s with the hiding, Cal?” He chuckles, gesturing to the crowd around us. “Next to the Lakelanders, this bunch will be easy!”

Cal meets my eyes, a silver blush tingeing his cheeks. “I’ll take the Lakelanders any day,” he replies, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re going with them?”

Oliver answers for Cal, smiling much too wide for a boy going off to war. “Going?” he says. “Cal’s leading us! His own legion, all the way to the front.”

Slowly, Cal shifts out of Oliver’s grip. The drunk windweaver doesn’t seem to notice and keeps babbling. “He’ll be the youngest general in history and the first prince to fight on the lines.”

And the first to die, a morose voice in my head whispers. Against my better instincts, I reach out to Cal. He doesn’t pull away from me, allowing me to hold his arm. Now he doesn’t look like a prince or a general or even a Silver, but that boy at the bar, the one who wanted to save me.

My voice is small but strong. “When?”

“When you leave for the capital, after the ball. You’ll go south,” he murmurs, “and I’ll go north.”

A cold shock of fear ripples through me, like when Kilorn first told me he was going to fight. But Kilorn is a fisher boy, a thief, someone who knows how to survive, how to slip through the cracks; not like Cal. He’s a soldier. He’ll die if he has to. He’ll bleed for his war. And why this frightens me, I don’t know. Why I care, I can’t say.

“With Cal on the lines, this war will finally be over. With Cal, we can win,” Oliver says, grinning like a fool. Again, he takes Cal by the shoulder, but this time he steers him away, back toward the party—leaving me behind.

Someone presses a cold drink into my hand, and I down it in a single gulp.

“Easy there,” Maven mutters. “Still thinking about this morning? No one saw your face, I checked with the Sentinels.”

But that’s the farthest thing from my mind as I watch Cal shake hands with his father. He pastes a magnificent smile on his face, donning a mask only I can see through.

Maven follows my gaze and my thoughts. “He wanted to do this. It was his choice.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to like it.”

“My son the general!” King Tiberias booms, his proud voice cutting through the din of the party. For a second, when he pulls Cal close, putting an arm around his son, I forget he’s a king. I almost understand Cal’s need to please him.

What would I give to see my mother look at me like that, back when I was nothing but a thief? What would I give now?

This world is Silver, but it is also gray. There is no black-and-white.

When someone knocks at my door that night, long after dinner, I’m expecting Walsh and another cup of secret-message tea, but Cal stands there instead. Without his uniform or armor, he looks like the boy he is. Barely nineteen, on the edge of doom or greatness or both.

I shrink in my pajamas, wishing very much for a robe. “Cal? What do you need?”

He shrugs, smirking a little bit. “Evangeline almost killed you in the ring today.”

“So?”

“So I don’t want her to kill you on the dance floor.”

“Did I miss something? Are we going to be fighting at the ball?”

He laughs, leaning against the doorframe. But his feet never enter my room, like he can’t. Or he shouldn’t. You’re going to be his brother’s wife. And he’s going to war.

“If you know how to dance properly, you won’t have to.”

I remember mentioning how I can’t dance for my life, let alone under Blonos’s terrible direction, but how can Cal help me here? And why would he want to?

“I’m a surprisingly good teacher,” he adds, smiling crookedly. When he stretches out a hand to me, my body shivers.

I know I shouldn’t. I know I should shut the door and not go down this road.

But he’s leaving to fight, maybe to die.

Shaking, I put my hand in his and let him pull me out of my room.