Red Queen

Lady Mareena Titanos, born to Lady Nora Nolle Titanos and Lord Ethan Titanos, general of the Iron Legion. Heiress to House Titanos. Mareena Titanos. Titanos.

My new name echoes in my head as the Red maids prepare me for the coming onslaught. The three girls work quickly and efficiently, never speaking to one another. They don’t ask me questions either, even though they must want to. Say nothing, I remember. They’re not allowed to speak to me, and they certainly aren’t allowed to talk about me to anyone else. Even the strange things, the Red things, I’m sure they see.

Over many agonizing minutes, they try to make me suitable, bathing me, styling me, painting me into the silly thing I’m supposed to be. The makeup is the worst, especially the thick white paste applied to my skin. They go through three pots of it, covering my face, neck, collarbone, and arms with the glittery wet powder. In the mirror, it looks like the warmth is leeched from me, as if the powder has covered the heat in my skin. With a gasp, I realize it’s supposed to hide my natural flush, the red bloom in my skin, the red blood. I’m pretending to be Silver, and when they finish painting my face, I actually look the part. With my newly pale skin and darkened eyes and lips, I look cold, cruel, a living razor. I look Silver. I look beautiful. And I hate it.

How long will this last? Betrothed to a prince. Even in my head, it sounds crazy. Because it is. No Silver in their right mind would marry you, let alone a prince of Norta. Not to calm rebellion, not to hide your identity, not for anything.

Then why do this?

When the maids pinch and pull me into a gown, I feel like a corpse being dressed for her funeral. I know it’s not far from the truth. Red girls do not marry Silver princes. I will never wear a crown or sit on a throne. Something will happen, an accident maybe. A lie will raise me up, and one day another lie will bring me down.

The dress is a dark shade of purple spattered with silver, made of silk and sheer lace. All houses have a color, I remember, thinking back to the rainbow of families. The colors of Titanos, my name, must be purple and silver.

When one of the maids reaches for my earrings, trying to take away the last bit of my old life, a surge of fear pulses through me. “Don’t touch them!”

The girl jumps back, blinking quickly, and the others freeze at my outburst.

“Sorry, I—” A Silver wouldn’t apologize. I clear my throat, collecting myself. “Leave the earrings.” My voice sounds strong, hard—regal. “You can change everything else, but leave the earrings.”

The three cheap pieces of metal, each one a brother, aren’t going anywhere.

“The color suits you.”

I whirl around to see the maids stooped in identical bows. And standing over them: Cal. Suddenly, I’m very glad the makeup covers the blush spreading over me.

He gestures quickly, his hand moving in a brushing motion, and the maids scurry from the room like mice fleeing from a cat.

“I’m sort of new to this royal thing, but I’m not sure you’re supposed to be here. In my room,” I say, forcing as much disdain into my voice as I can muster. After all, it’s his fault I’m in this forsaken mess.

He takes a few steps toward me, and on instinct, I take a step back. My feet catch on the hem of my dress, making me choose between not moving or falling over. I don’t know which is less desirable.

“I came to apologize, something I can’t really do with an audience.” He stops short, noting my discomfort. A muscle twitches in his cheek as he looks me over, probably remembering the hopeless girl who tried to pickpocket him only last night. I look nothing like her now. “I’m sorry for getting you into this, Mare.”

“Mareena.” The name even tastes wrong. “That’s my name, remember?”

“Then it’s a good thing Mare’s a suitable nickname.”

“I don’t think anything about me is suitable.”

Cal’s eyes rake over me, and my skin burns under his gaze. “How do you like Lucas?” he finally says, taking an obliging step back.

The Samos guard, the first decent Silver I’ve met here. “He’s all right, I suppose.” Perhaps the queen will take him away if I reveal how gentle the officer was to me.

“Lucas is a good man. His family thinks him weak for his kindness,” he adds, eyes darkening a little. As if he knows the feeling. “But he’ll serve you well, and fairly. I’ll make sure of it.”

How thoughtful. He’s given me a kind jailer. But I bite my tongue. It won’t do any good to snap at his mercy. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

The spark returns to his eyes, and a smirk to his lips. “You know my name is Cal.”

“And you know my name, don’t you?” I tell him bitterly. “You know what I come from.”

He barely nods, as if ashamed.

“You have to take care of them.” My family. Their faces swim before my eyes, already so far away. “All of them, for as long as you can.”

“Of course I will.” He takes a step toward me, closing the gap between us. “I’m sorry,” he says again. The words resound in my head, echoing off a memory.

The wall of fire. The choking smoke. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

It was Cal who caught me earlier, who kept me from escaping this awful place.

“Are you sorry for stopping my one chance of escape?”

“You mean if you got past the Sentinels, Security, the walls, the woods, back to your village to wait until the queen herself hunted you down?” he replies, taking my accusations in stride. “Stopping you was the best thing for you and your family.”

“I could’ve gotten away. You don’t know me.”

“I know the queen would tear the world apart looking for the little lightning girl.”

“Don’t call me that.” The nickname stings more than the fake name I’m still getting used to. Little lightning girl. “That’s what your mother calls me.”

He laughs bitterly. “She’s not my mother. She’s Maven’s, not mine.” Just by the set of his jaw, I know not to press the issue.

“Oh,” is all I can say, my voice very small. It fades quickly, a faint echo against the vaulted ceiling. I crane my neck, looking around at my new room for the first time since I came in. It’s finer than anything I’ve ever seen—marble and glass, silk and feathers. The light has changed, shifting to the orange color of dusk. Night is coming. And with it, the rest of my life.

“I woke up this morning as one person,” I mutter, more to myself than to him, “and now I’m supposed to be someone else entirely.”

“You can do this.” I feel him take a step toward me, his heat filling the room in a way that makes my skin prickle. But I don’t look up. I won’t.

“How do you know?”

“Because you must.” He bites his lip, eyes shifting over me. “As beautiful as this world is, it’s just as dangerous. People who are not useful, people who make mistakes, they can be removed. You can be removed.”

And I will be. Someday. But that is not the only threat I face. “So the moment I mess up could be my last?”

He doesn’t speak, but I can see the answer in his eyes. Yes.

My fingers fiddle with the silver belt at my waist, pulling it tight. If this was a dream, I would wake up, but I don’t. This is really happening. “What about me? About”—I hold out my hands, glaring at the infernal things—“this?”

In response, Cal smiles. “I think you’ll get the hang of it.”

Then he holds up his own bare hand. A strange contraption at his wrist, something like a bracelet with two metal ends, clicks, producing sparks. Instead of disappearing in a flash, the sparks glow and burst into red flame, giving off a blast of heat. He’s a burner, he controls heat and fire, I remember. He’s a prince, and a dangerous one at that. But the flame disappears as quickly as it came, leaving only Cal’s encouraging smile and the humming of cameras hidden somewhere, watching over everything.

The masked Sentinels on the edge of my vision are a constant reminder of my new position. I’m nearly a princess, engaged to the second most eligible bachelor in the country. And I’m a lie. Cal is long gone, leaving me with my guards. Lucas isn’t so bad, but the others are stern and quiet, never looking me in the eye. The guards and even Lucas are wardens to keep me imprisoned in my own skin, red behind a silver curtain that can never be pulled away. If I fall, if I even slip, I will die. And others will die for my failure.

As they escort me toward the feast, I go over the story the queen drilled into me, the pretty tale she was going to tell the court. It’s simple, easy to remember, but it still makes me cringe.

I was born at the war front. My parents were killed in an attack on the camp. A Red soldier saved me from the rubble and brought me home to a wife who always wanted a daughter. They raised me in the village called the Stilts, and I was ignorant of my birthright or my ability until this morning. And now I am returned to my rightful place.

The thought makes me sick. My rightful place is at home, with my parents and Gisa and Kilorn. Not here.

The Sentinels lead the way through the maze of passages in the upper levels of the palace. Like the Spiral Garden, the architecture is all curves of stone, glass, and metal, slowly turning downward. Diamondglass is around every corner, showing breathtaking views of the marketplace, the river valley, and the woods beyond. From this height, I can see hills I didn’t know existed rising in the distance, silhouetted against the setting sun.

“The last two floors are royal apartments,” Lucas says, pointing up the sloping, spiraling hallway. Sunlight glitters like a firestorm, throwing speckles of light down on us. “The lift will take us down to the ballroom. Just here.” Lucas reaches out, stopping next to a metal wall. It reflects us dully, then slides away when he waves a hand.

The Sentinels usher us into a box with no windows and harsh lighting. I force myself to breathe, even though I’d rather push out of what feels like a giant metal coffin.

I jump a mile when the lift suddenly moves, making my pulse race. My breath comes in short gasps as I look around in wide-eyed fright, expecting to see the others reacting in the same way. But no one else seems to mind the fact that the box we’re in is dropping. Only Lucas notices my discomfort, and he slows our descent a little.

“The lift moves up and down, so we don’t have to walk. This place is very big, Lady Titanos,” he murmurs with the ghost of a smile.

I’m torn between wonder and fear as we drop, and I breathe a sigh of relief when Lucas opens the lift doors. We march out into the mirrored hall I ran through this morning. The broken mirrors are already fixed—it looks like nothing ever happened.

When Queen Elara appears around the corner, her own Sentinels in tow, Lucas sweeps into a bow. Now she wears black and red and silver, her husband’s colors. With her blond hair and pale skin, she looks downright ghoulish.

She grabs me by the arm, pulling me to her as we walk. Her lips don’t move, but I hear her voice all the same, echoing in my head. This time it doesn’t hurt or make me nauseous, but the sensation still feels sick and wrong. I want to scream, to claw her out of my head. But there’s nothing I can do except hate her.

The Titanos family were oblivions, she says, her voice all around. They could explode things with a touch, like the Lerolan girl did at Queenstrial. When I try to remember the girl, Elara projects an image of her directly into my brain. It flashes, barely there, but still I see a young girl in orange blow up rock and sand like military bombs. Your mother, Nora Nolle, was a storm like the rest of House Nolle. Storms control the weather, to an extent. It’s not common, but their union resulted in your unique abilities to control electricity. Say no more, if anyone asks.

What do you really want with me? Even in my head, my voice quivers.

Her laughter bounces inside my skull, the only answer I’ll get.

Remember the person you’re supposed to be, and remember well, she continues, ignoring my question. You are pretending to be raised Red, but you’re Silver by blood. You are now Red in the head, Silver in the heart.

A shiver of fear shoots through me.

From now until the end of your days, you must lie. Your life depends on it, little lightning girl.