EPIGRAPH
Neverdoubtthatyouarevaluableandpowerfulanddeservingofevery
chanceandopportunityintheworldtopursueandachieveyourowndreams.
âHRC
MAP
CONTENTS
EpigraphMap
OneTwoThreeFourFiveSixSevenEightNineTenElevenTwelveThirteenFourteenFifteenSixteenSeventeenEighteenNineteenTwentyTwenty-OneTwenty-TwoTwenty-ThreeTwenty-FourTwenty-FiveTwenty-SixTwenty-SevenTwenty-EightTwenty-NineEpilogue
AcknowledgmentsBackAdsAbouttheAuthorBooksbyVictoriaAveyardCreditsCopyrightAboutthePublisher
ONEMare
Irisetomyfeetwhenheletsme.
The chain jerks me up, pulling on the thorned collar at my throat. Itspointsdig in,notenough todrawbloodânotyet.But Iâmalreadybleedingfrom thewrists. Slowwounds,worn fromdays of unconscious captivity inrough,rippingmanacles.Thecolorstainsmywhitesleevesdarkcrimsonandbrightscarlet,fadingfromoldbloodtonewinatestamenttomyordeal.ToshowMavenâscourthowmuchIâvesufferedalready.
He stands over me, his expression unreadable. The tips of his fatherâscrown make him seem taller, as if the iron is growing out of his skull. Itgleams,eachpointacurlingflameofblackmetalshotwithbronzeandsilver.I focus on the bitterly familiar thing so I donât have to look intoMavenâseyes.Hedrawsmeinanyway,tuggingonanotherchainIcanâtsee.Onlyfeel.
Onewhitehand circlesmywoundedwrist, somehowgentle. In spite ofmyself,myeyessnaptohisface,unabletostayaway.Hissmileisanythingbutkind.Slimand sharp as a razor, biting atmewith every tooth.Andhiseyesareworstofall.Hereyes,Elaraâseyes.OnceIthoughtthemcold,madeoflivingice.NowIknowbetter.Thehottestfiresburnblue,andhiseyesarenoexception.
Theshadowoftheflame.Heiscertainlyablaze,butdarknesseatsathisedges.Bruise-likesplotchesofblackandbluesurroundeyesbloodshotwithsilverveins.Hehasnotslept.Heâs thinner than I remember, leaner,crueler.His hair, black as a void, has reached his ears, curling at the ends, and hischeeksarestillsmooth.SometimesIforgethowyoungheis.Howyoungwebothare.Beneathmyshiftdress,theMbrandonmycollarbonestings.
Maventurnsquickly,mychaintightinhisfist,forcingmetomovewithhim.Amooncirclingaplanet.
âBear witness to this prisoner, this victory,â he says, squaring hisshoulders to the vast audience before us. Three hundred Silvers at least,noblesandcivilians,guardsandofficers.IâmpainfullyawareoftheSentinelsontheedgeofmyvision,theirfieryrobesaconstantreminderofmyquickly
shrinking cage.MyArven guards are never out of sight either, their whiteuniforms blinding, their silencing ability suffocating. I might choke on thepressureoftheirpresence.
Thekingâsvoiceechoesacross theopulentstretchesofCaesarâsSquare,reverberating through a crowd that responds in kind. There must bemicrophones and speakers somewhere, to carry the kingâs bitter wordsthroughoutthecity,andnodoubttherestofthekingdom.
âHere is the leader of theScarletGuard,MareBarrow.â In spite ofmypredicament,Ialmostsnort.Leader.Hismotherâsdeathhasnotstemmedhislies. âAmurderer, a terrorist, a great enemy to our kingdom.And now shekneelsbeforeus,baretoherblood.â
Thechainjerksagain,sendingmescuttlingforward,armsoutstretchedtocatchmybalance.Ireactdully,eyesdowncast.Somuchpageantry.AngerandshamecurlthroughmeasIrealizetheamountofdamagethissimpleactwilldototheScarletGuard.RedsacrossNortawillwatchmedanceonMavenâsstrings and think us weak, defeated, unworthy of their attention, effort, orhope.Nothingcouldbefurtherfromthetruth.ButthereisnâtanythingIcando,notnow,nothere,standingontheknifeedgeofMavenâsmercy.IwonderaboutCorvium, themilitarycitywe sawburningonourway to theChoke.There was rioting after my broadcast message. Was it the first gasp ofrevolutionâorthelast?Ihavenowayofknowing.AndIdoubtanyonewillbothertobringmeanewspaper.
Calwarnedmeagainstthethreatofcivilwaralongtimeago,beforehisfatherdied,beforehewasleftwithnothingbutatempestuouslightninggirl.Rebelliononbothsides,hesaid.Butstandinghere, leashedbeforeMavenâscourtandhisSilverkingdom,Iseenodivision.EventhoughIshowedthem,told them ofMavenâs prison, of their loved ones taken away, of their trustbetrayedbyakingandhismotherâIamstill theenemyhere. Itmakesmewanttoscream,butIknowbetter.Mavenâsvoicewillalwaysbelouderthanmine.
AreMomandDadwatching? The thought of it brings a freshwave ofsorrow,andIbitehardagainstmyliptokeepmoretearsatbay.Iknowthereare video cameras nearby, focused on my face. Even if I canât feel themanymore,Iknow.Mavenwouldnotmisstheopportunitytoimmortalizemydownfall.
Aretheyabouttoseemedie?
Thecollartellsmeno.Whybotherwiththisspectacleifheâsjustgoingto
killme?Anothermightfeelrelieved,butmyinsidesturncoldwithfear.Hewillnotkillme.NotMaven.Ifeelitinhistouch.Hislong,palefingersstillclingtomywrist,whilehisotherhandstillholdsmyleash.Evennow,whenIam painfully his, hewonât let go. Iwould prefer death to this cage, to thetwistedobsessionofamadboyking.
Irememberhisnotes,eachoneendingwiththesamestrangelament.
Untilwemeetagain.
He continues speaking, but his voice dulls inmy head, the whine of ahornetcomingtooclose,makingeverynervestandonedge.I lookovermyshoulder.Myeyesdriftthroughthecrowdofcourtiersbehindus.Allofthemstandproudandvileintheirmourningblack.LordVoloofHouseSamosandhis son, Ptolemus, are splendid in polished, ebony armorwith scaled silversashesfromhiptoshoulder.Atthesightofthelatter,Iseescarlet,ragingred.I fight theurge to lungeandrip theskinfromPtolemusâs face.TostabhimthroughhisheartthewayhedidmybrotherShade.Thedesireshows,andhehas the spine to smirk at me. If not for the collar and the silent guardsrestrictingeverythingIam,Iwouldturnhisbonestosmokingglass.
Somehowhis sister, an enemyof somanymonths ago, isnât looking atme.Evangeline,hergownspikedwithblackcrystal,isevertheglitteringstarof such a violent constellation. I suppose sheâll be queen soon, havingsufferedherbetrothaltoMavenlongenough.Hergazeisonthekingâsback,darkeyesfixedwithburningfocusonthenapeofhisneck.Abreezepicksup,stirringherglossycurtainofsilverhair,blowingitbackfromhershoulders,butshedoesnâtblink.Onlyafteralongmomentdoessheseemtonoticemestaring. And even then, her eyes barely flick to mine. They are empty offeeling.Iamnolongerworthyofherattention.
âMareBarrowisaprisonerofthecrown,andshewillfacethecrownandcouncilâsjudgment.Hermanycrimesmustbeansweredfor.â
Withwhat?Iwonder.
The crowd roars in response, cheering his decree.They areSilvers, butâcommon,â not of noble descent. While they revel in Mavenâs words, hiscourtdoesnotreact.Infact,someofthemturngray,angry,stone-faced.Nonemore so than HouseMerandus, their mourning garb slashed with the darkblue of the dead queenâswretched colors.While Evangeline did not noticeme, they fixonmy facewith startling intensity.Eyesof burningblue fromeverydirection. I expect to hear theirwhispers inmyhead, a dozenvoicesburrowing likeworms througha rottenapple. Instead, there isonly silence.
PerhapstheArvenofficersflankingmearenot just jailers,butprotectorsaswell,smotheringmyabilityaswellastheabilitiesofanyonewhowouldusethemagainstme.Mavenâsorders,Iassume.Nooneelsemayhurtmehere.
Noonebuthim.
But everything hurts already. It hurts to stand, hurts to move, hurts tothink.Fromthejetcrash,fromthesounder,fromthecrushingweightofthesilencing guards. And those are only physical wounds. Bruises. Fractures.Painsthatwillhealifgiventhetime.Thesamecannotbesaidoftherest.Mybrother isdead. Iamaprisoner.AndIdonâtknowwhat reallyhappened tomy friendshowevermanydaysagowhen I struck thisdevilâsbargain.Cal,Kilorn,Cameron,mybrothersBree andTramy.We left thembehind in theclearing,buttheywerewounded,immobilized,vulnerable.Mavencouldhavesentanynumberofassassinsback tofinishwhathestarted. I tradedmyselfforthemall,andIdonâtevenknowifitworked.
MavenwouldtellmeifIaskedhim.Icanseeitinhisface.Hiseyesdartto mine after every vile sentence, punctuating every lie performed for hisadoring subjects. To make sure Iâm watching, paying attention, looking athim.Likethechildheis.
Iwillnotbeghim.Nothere.Notlikethis.Ihaveprideenoughforthat.
âMymother and father died fighting these animals,â he rails on. âTheygavetheirlivestokeepthiskingdomwhole,tokeepyousafe.â
DefeatedasIam,IcanâthelpbutglareatMaven,meetinghisfirewithahiss ofmy own.We both remember his fatherâs death. Hismurder. QueenElarawhisperedherwayintoCalâsbrain,turningthekingâsbelovedheirintoa deadly weapon. Maven and I watched as Cal was forced to become hisfatherâskiller,cuttingoffthekingâsheadandanychanceCalhadofruling.Ihaveseenmanyhorriblethingssincethen,andstillthememoryhauntsme.
IdonâtremembermuchofwhathappenedtothequeenoutsidethewallsofCorrosPrison.The state of her body afterwardwas testament enough towhatunbridledlightningcandotohumanflesh.IknowIkilledherwithoutquestion,withoutremorse,withoutregret.MyravagingstormfedbyShadeâssudden death. The last clear image I have of the Corros battle is of himfalling, his heart pierced by Ptolemusâs needle of cold, unforgiving steel.SomehowPtolemusescapedmyblindrage,butthequeendidnot.AtleasttheColonelandImadesuretheworldknewwhathappenedtoher,displayinghercorpseduringourbroadcast.
IwishMavenhadsomeofherability,sohecouldlookintomyheadand
seeexactlywhatkindofendingIgavehismother.IwanthimtofeelthepainoflossasterriblyasIdo.
His eyes are on me as he finishes his memorized speech, one handoutstretchedtobetterdisplaythechainbindingmetohim.Everythinghedoesismethodical,performedforanimage.
âI pledge myself to do the same, to end the Scarlet Guard and themonsterslikeMareBarrow,ordieintheattempt.â
Die,then,Iwanttoscream.
Theroarofthecrowddrownsoutmythoughts.Hundredscheeron theirkingandhistyranny.Icriedonthewalkacrossthebridge,inthefaceofsomanyblamingmefortheirlovedonesâdeaths.Icanstillfeelthetearsdryingonmycheeks.NowIwanttoweepagain,notinsadness,butanger.Howcantheybelievethis?Howcantheystomachtheselies?
Like a doll, I am turned from the sight.With the last ofmy strength, Icranemy neck over one shoulder, hunting for the cameras, the eyes of theworld. Seeme, I beg. See how he lies. My jaw tightens, my eyes narrow,paintingwhat I pray is apictureof resilience, rebellion, and rage. I am thelightninggirl.Iamastorm.Itfeelslikealie.Thelightninggirlisdead.
ButitisthelastthingIcandoforthecause,andforthepeopleIlovestilloutthere.Theywillnotseemestumbleinthisfinalmoment.No,Iwillstand.AndthoughIhavenoideahow,Ihavetokeepfighting,evenhereinthebellyofthebeast.
Anothertugforcesmetospinaroundtofacethecourt.ColdSilversstareback,theirskinundertonedbyblueandblackandpurpleandgray,leachedoflife,withveinsofsteelanddiamondratherthanblood.Theyfocusnotonme,butonMavenhimself.InthemIfindmyanswer.InthemIseehunger.
For a split second, I pity the boy king alone on his throne. Then, deepdown,Ifeeltheteasingbreathofhope.
Oh,Maven.Whatamessyouârein.
Icanonlywonderwhowillstrikefirst.
TheScarletGuardâor the lords and ladies ready to slitMavenâs throatandtakeeverythinghismotherdiedfor.
HehandsmyleashovertooneoftheArvensassoonaswefleetheWhitefiresteps,retreatingintotheyawningentrancehallofthepalace.Strange.Hewassofixatedongettingmeback,onputtingmeintohiscage,buthetossesmy
chains awaywithout somuch as a glance.Coward, I tellmyself. He canâtbringhimselftolookatmewhenitisnâtforspectacle.
âDid you keep your promise?â I demand, breathless.My voice soundsraspyfromdaysofdisuse.âAreyouamanofyourword?â
Hedoesnâtanswer.
The rest of the court falls in behind us. Their lines and rows are wellpracticed,basedonthecomplicatedintricaciesofstatusandrank.OnlyIamout of place, the first one to follow the king, walking a few steps behindwhereaqueenshouldbe.Icouldnotbefurtherfromthetitle.
Iglanceatthelargerofmyjailers,hopingtoseesomethingbesidesblindloyaltyinhim.Hewearsawhiteuniform,thick,bulletproof,zippedtightuphis throat. Gloves, gleaming. Not silk, but plasticârubber. I flinch at thesight.Despitetheirsilencingability,theArvenswonâttakeanychanceswithme. Even if I manage to slip a spark past their continuous onslaught, thegloveswillprotecttheirhandsandallowthemtokeepmecollared,chained,caged.ThebigArvendoesnâtmeetmygaze,hiseyesfocusedaheadwhilehislipspurseinconcentration.Theotherisjustthesame,flankingmeinperfectstepwithhisbrotherorcousin.Theirnakedscalpsgleam,andIâmremindedof Lucas Samos. My kind guard, my friend, who was executed because Iexisted,andbecause Iusedhim. Iwas lucky then, thatCalgavemesuchadecentSilvertokeepmeprisoner.And,Irealize,Iamluckynow.Indifferentguardswillbeeasierformetokill.
Becausetheymustdie.Somehow.Someway.IfIamtoescape,ifIwanttoreclaimmylightning,theyarethefirstobstacles.Therestareeasytoguess.MavenâsSentinels,theotherguardsandofficerspostedthroughoutthepalace,andofcourseMavenhimself.IâmnotleavingthisplaceunlessIleavebehindhiscorpseâormine.
I think about killing him. Wrapping my chain around his neck andsqueezing the life fromhisbody. Ithelpsme ignore the fact thateverysteptakesmedeeperintothepalace,overwhitemarble,pastgilded,soaringwalls,beneathadozenchandelierswithcrystallightscarvedofflame.AsbeautifulandcoldasIremember.Aprisonofgoldenlocksanddiamondbars.AtleastIwonâthavetofaceitsmostviolentanddangerouswarden.Theoldqueenisdead.Still,Ishiveratthethoughtofher.ElaraMerandus.Hershadowghoststhroughmy head. Once she tore throughmymemories. Now sheâs one ofthem.
An armored figure cuts throughmy glare, sidling aroundmy guards to
plant himself between the king and me. He keeps pace with us, a doggedguardian even though he doesnât wear the robes or mask of a Sentinel. IsupposeheknowsIâmthinkingaboutstranglingMaven.Ibitemylip,bracingmyselfforthesharpstingofawhisperâsassault.
Butno,heisnotofHouseMerandus.Hisarmorisobsidiandark,hishairsilver,hisskinmoonwhite.Andhiseyes,whenhelooksoverhisshoulderatmeâhiseyesareemptyandblack.
Ptolemus.
I lungeteethfirst,notknowingwhatIâmdoing,notcaring.SolongasIleavemymark.IwonderifSilverbloodtastesdifferentfromRed.
Ineverfindout.
Mycollarsnapsbackward,pullingmesoviolentlymyspinearchesandIcrashtothefloor.AbitharderandIwouldâvebrokenmyneck.Thecrackofmarble on skullmakes theworld spin, but not enough to keepme down. Iscramble,mysightnarrowingtoPtolemusâsarmoredlegs,nowturningtofaceme.AgainIlurchforthem,andagainthecollarpullsmeback.
âEnoughofthis,âMavenhisses.
Hestandsoverme,haltingtowatchmypoorattemptstorepayPtolemus.Therestoftheprocessionhasstoppedtoo,manycrowdingforwardtoseethetwistedRedratfightinvain.
Thecollarseemstotighten,andIgulpagainstit,reachingformythroat.
Maven keeps his eyes on the metal as it shrinks. âEvangeline, I saidenough.â
Despitethepain,Iturntoseeheratmyback,onefistclenchedatherside.Like him, she stares atmy collar. It pulses as itmoves. Itmustmatch herheartbeat.
âLetmelooseher,âshesays,andIwonderifImisheard.âLetmelooseherrighthere.Dismissherguards,andIâllkillher,lightningandall.â
Isnarlbackather,everyinchthebeasttheythinkIam.âTryit,âItellher,wishingwith allmyheart thatMavenwould agree.Evenwithmywounds,mydaysofsilence,andmyyearsofinferioritytothemagnetrongirl,Iwantwhatsheoffers.Ibeatherbefore.Icandoitagain.Itisachance,atleast.AbetterchancethanIcouldeverhopefor.
Mavenâseyessnapfrommycollartohisbetrothed,hisfacefallingintoatight,searingscowl.Iseesomuchofhismotherinhim.âAreyouquestioning
theordersofyourking,LadyEvangeline?â
Herteethflashbetweenlipspaintedpurple.Hershroudofcourtlymannerthreatens to fall away,butbefore shecan say something trulydamning,herfathershiftsjustso,hisarmbrushingherown.Hismessageisclear:Obey.
âNo,âshegrowls,meaningyes.Herneckbends,incliningherhead.âYourMajesty.â
Thecollarreleases,wideningbacktosizearoundmyneck.Itmightevenbelooserthanbefore.SmallblessingthatEvangelineisnotsometiculousasshestrivestoappear.
âMareBarrowisaprisonerofthecrown,andthecrownwilldowithherasitseesfit,âMavensays,hisvoicecarryingpasthisvolatilebride.Hiseyessweepthroughtherestofthecourt,makinghisintentionsclear.âDeathistoogoodforher.â
Alowmurmurripplesthroughthenobles.Iheartonesofopposition,butevenmoreagreement.Strange.Ithoughtallofthemwouldwantmeexecutedintheworstway,strunguptofeedvulturesandbleedawaywhatevergroundtheScarletGuardhasgained.ButIsupposetheywantworsefatesforme.
Worsefates.
ThatâswhatJonsaidbefore.Whenhesawwhatmyfutureheld,wheremypathled.Heknewthiswascoming.Knew,andtoldtheking.BoughtaplaceatMavenâssidewithmybrotherâslifeandmyfreedom.
I find Jon standing in the crowd, given awide berth by the others.Hiseyesarered,livid;hishairprematurelygrayandtiedintoaneattail.AnothernewbloodpetforMavenCalore,butthisonewearsnochainsthatIcansee.BecausehehelpedMavenstopourmissiontosavealegionofchildrenbeforeitcouldevenbegin.ToldMavenourpathsandourfuture.Gift-wrappedmefortheboyking.Betrayedusall.
Jonisalreadystaringatme,ofcourse.Idonâtexpectanapologyforwhathedid,anddonotreceiveone.
âWhataboutinterrogation?â
AvoiceIdonotrecognizesoundstomyleft.Still,Iknowhisface.
SamsonMerandus. An arena fighter, a savage whisper, a cousin to thedeadqueen.Heshouldershiswaytowardme,andIcanâthelpbutflinch.InanotherlifeIsawhimmakehisarenaopponentstabhimselftodeath.Kilornsatbymysideandwatched,cheering,enjoyingthelasthoursofhisfreedom.
Thenhismasterdied,andourentireworldshifted.Ourpathschanged.AndnowIsprawlacrossflawlessmarble,coldandbleeding,lessthanadogatthefeetofaking.
âIs she too good for interrogation, Your Majesty?â Samson continues,pointing onewhite hand inmy direction. He catchesme beneath the chin,forcing me to look up. I fight the urge to bite him. I donât need to giveEvangelineanotherexcusetochokeme.âThinkofwhatsheâsseen.Whatsheknows.Sheâstheirleaderâandthekeytounravelingherwretchedkind.â
Heâswrong,butstillmyheartbeatthrumsinmychest.Iknowenoughtobeofgreatdamage.Tuckflashesbeforemyeyes,aswellastheColonelandthe twins from Montfort. The infiltration of the legions. The cities. TheWhistlesacrossthecountry,nowferryingrefugeestosafety.Precioussecretscarefullykept,andsoontoberevealed.Howmanywillmyknowledgeputindanger?Howmanywilldiewhentheycrackmeopen?
Andthatâs justmilitaryintelligence.Worsestillare thedarkpartsofmyownmind. The corners where I keep my worst demons.Maven is one ofthem.TheprinceIrememberedandlovedandwishedwerereal.ThenthereâsCal. What Iâve done to keep him, what Iâve ignored, and what lies I tellmyselfabouthisallegiances.Myshameandmymistakeseataway,gnawingonmyroots.IcanâtletSamsonâorMavenâseesuchthingsinsideme.
Please,Iwanttobeg.Mylipsdonotmove.AsmuchasIhateMaven,asmuch as Iwant to see him suffer, I knowheâs the best chance I have.Butpleading formercy before his strongest allies andworst enemies will onlyweakenanalready-weakking.SoIkeepquiet,tryingtoignoreSamsonâsgriponmyjaw,focusingonlyonMavenâsface.
Hiseyesfindmineforthelongestandshortestofmoments.
âYouhaveyourorders,âhesaysbrusquely,noddingtomyguards.
Theirgripisfirmbutnotbruisingastheyliftmetomyfeet,usinghandsandchainstoguidemeoutofthecrowd.Ileavethemallbehind.Evangeline,Ptolemus,Samson,andMaven.
He turnsonhisheel, heading in theoppositedirection, toward theonlythinghehaslefttokeephimwarm.
Athroneoffrozenflames.
TWOMare
Iamneveralone.
The jailers donot leave.Always two, alwayswatching, alwayskeepingwhat I am silent and suppressed. They donât need anything more than alockeddoortomakemeaprisoner.NotthatIcanevengetclosetothedoorwithout being manhandled back to the center of my bedchamber. TheyârestrongerthanIam,andforevervigilant.Myonlyescapefromtheireyesisthesmallbathroom,achamberofwhitetileandgoldenfixings,withaforbiddinglineofSilentStonealongthefloor.Thereareenoughofthepearlygrayslabstomakemyheadpoundandmythroatconstrict.Ihavetobequickinthere,and make use of every strangling second. The sensation reminds me ofCameron and her ability. She can kill someone with the strength of hersilence. As much as I hate my guardsâ constant vigil, I will not risksuffocatingonabathroomfloorforafewextraminutesofpeace.
Funny, I used to thinkmygreatest fearwasbeing left alone.Now I amanythingbut,andIâveneverbeenmoreterrified.
Ihavenotfeltmylightninginfourdays.
Five.
Six.
Seventeen.
Thirty-one.
I notch each day in the baseboard next to the bed, using a fork to dig thepassingtime.Itfeelsgoodtoleavemymark,toinflictmyownsmallinjuryontheprisonofWhitefirePalace.TheArvensdonâtmind.Theyignoremeforthemostpart,focusedonlyontotalandabsolutesilence.Theykeeptotheirplacesbythedoor,seatedlikestatueswithlivingeyes.
This is not the same room I slept in the last time I was at Whitefire.Obviouslyitwouldnâtbepropertohousearoyalprisonerinthesameplaceasa royalbride.But Iâmnot inacelleither.Mycage iscomfortableandwellfurnished,with a plush bed, a bookshelf stockedwith boring tomes, a few
chairs, a table to eat at, even fine curtains, all in neutral shades of gray,brown,andwhite.Leachedofcolor,astheArvensleachpowerfromme.
Islowlygetusedtosleepingalone,butnightmaresplaguemewithoutCaltokeep themaway.Withoutsomeonewhocares forme.Every timeIwakeup, I touch the earrings dotting my ear, naming each stone. Bree, Tramy,Shade,Kilorn.Brothersinbloodandbond.Threeliving,oneaghost.IwishIhadanearring tomatch theoneIgaveGisa,soIcouldhaveapieceofhertoo.Idreamofhersometimes.Nothingconcrete,butflashesofherface,herhairredanddarkasspilledblood.Herwordshauntmelikenothingelse.Onedaypeoplearegoingtocomeandtakeeverythingyouhave.Shewasright.
There are nomirrors, not even in the bathroom. But I knowwhat thisplace isdoing tome.Despite theheartymealsand the lackofexercise,myface feels thinner.Mybonescutbeneath skin, sharper thaneveras Iwaste.ThereisnâtmuchmoretodothansleeporreadoneofthevolumesonNortantax code, but still, exhaustion set in days ago.Bruises blossom from everytouch.AndthecollarfeelshoteventhoughIspendmydayscold,shivering.Itcouldbeafever.Icouldbedying.
NotthatIhaveanyonetotell.Ibarelyevenspeakthroughthedays.Thedooropensforfoodandwater,forthechangeinmyjailers,andnothingmore.IneverseeaRedmaidorservant,thoughtheymustexist.Instead,theArvensretrievemeals,linens,andclothesdepositedoutside,bringingtheminformetouse.Theycleanupaswell,grimacingastheyperformsuchalowlytask.Isuppose lettingaRed inmyroomis toodangerous.The thoughtmakesmesmile. So the Scarlet Guard is still a threat, enough to warrant such rigidprotocolthatevenservantsarenâtallowednearme.
But then, it seemsnooneelse iseither.Noonecomes togawkorgloatoverthelightninggirl.NotevenMaven.
TheArvensdonottalktome.Theydonâttellmetheirnames.SoIgivethemsomeofmyown.Kitten,theolderwomansmallerthanme,withatinyfaceandkeen,sharpeyes.Egg,hisheadround,white,andbaldliketherestofhis guardian kin. Trio has three lines tattooed down his neck, like thedragging of perfect claws. And green-eyed Clover, a girl near my age,unwaveringinherduties.Sheistheonlyonewhodareslookmeintheeye.
When I first realized Maven wanted me back, I expected pain, ordarkness,orboth.Mostofall Iexpectedtoseehimandenduremytormentunderhisblazingeyes.ButIreceivenothing.NotsincethedayIarrivedandwasforcedtokneel.Hetoldmethenhewouldputmybodyondisplay.But
no executioners have come. Neither have the whispers, men like SamsonMerandusandthedeadqueen,toprymyheadopenandunspoolmythoughts.Ifthisismypunishment,itisaboringone.Mavenhasnoimagination.
Therearestill thevoicesinmyhead,andsomany,toomanymemories.Theycutwithabladeâsedge.Itrytodullthepainwithevendullerbooks,butthe words swim before my eyes, letters rearranging until all I see are thenames of the people I left behind. The living and the dead. And always,everywhere,Shade.
Ptolemusmighthavekilledmybrother,butIwastheonetoputShadeinhispath.BecauseIwasselfish,thinkingmyselfsomekindofsavior.Because,onceagain,IputmytrustinsomeoneIshouldnâthaveandtradedlivesasagambler doesplaying cards.But you liberated a prison. You freed somanypeopleâandyousavedJulian.
Aweakthought,anevenweakerconsolation.IknownowwhatthecostofCorrosPrisonwas.AndeverydayIcometotermswiththefactthat,ifgiventhechoice,Iwouldnotpayitagain.NotforJulian,notforahundredlivingnewbloods.IwouldnâtsaveanyofthemwithShadeâslife.
And it was all the same in the end.Maven had askedme to return formonths,beggingwitheverybloodstainednote.Hehadhopedtobuymewithcorpses, with the bodies of the dead. But Iâd thought there was no trade Iwouldmake,notevenforathousandinnocentlives.NowIwishIâddoneasheasked longago.Beforehe thought to come for theones I trulycare for,knowing I would save them. Knowing that Cal, Kilorn, my familyâtheywere the only bargain I was willing to make. For their lives, I gaveeverything.
I guess he knows better than to torture me. Even with the sounder, amachinemade to usemy lightning againstme, to split me apart, nerve bynerve.
Myagonyisuselesstohim.Hismothertaughthimwell.Myonlycomfortisknowingthattheyoungkingiswithouthisviciouspuppeteer.WhileIamkept here, watched day and night, he is alone at the head of a kingdom,withoutElaraMerandustoguidehishandandprotecthisback.
ItâsbeenamonthsinceIâvetastedfreshair,andalmostaslongsinceIsawanythingbuttheinsideofmyroomandthenarrowviewmysinglewindowaffords.
Thewindowlooksoutoveracourtyardgarden,wellpastdeadattheendofautumn. Itsgroveof trees is twistedbygreenwardenhands. In leaf, they
mustlookmarvelous:averdantcrownofblossomswithspiraling,impossiblebranches.Butbare,thegnarledoaks,elms,andbeechescurlintotalons;theirdry, dead fingers scraping against one another like bones. The courtyard isabandoned,forgotten.Justlikeme.
No,Igrowltomyself.
Theotherswillcomeforme.
I dare to hope. My stomach lurches every time the door opens. For amoment, I expect to see Cal or Kilorn or Farley, perhaps Nanny wearinganotherpersonâsface.TheColonel,even.NowIwouldweeptoseehisscarleteye.Butnoonecomesforme.Nooneiscomingforme.
Itâscrueltogivehopewherenoneshouldbe.
AndMavenknowsit.
Asthesunsetsonthethirty-firstday,Iunderstandwhathemeanstodo.
Hewantsmetorot.Tofade.Tobeforgotten.
Outsideinthecourtyardofbones,earlysnowdriftsinflurriesbornofaniron-graysky.Theglassiscoldtothetouch,butitrefusestofreeze.
SowillI.
Thesnowoutsideisperfectinthemorninglight,acrustofwhitegildingbarertrees. Itâllmelt by afternoon.Bymycount, itâsDecember11.Acold, gray,deadtimeintheechobetweenautumnandwinter.Thetruesnowswonâtsetinuntilnextmonth.
Backhomeweusedtojumpofftheporchintosnowdrifts,evenafterBreebroke his leg when he landed on a buried pile of firewood. Cost Gisa amonthâswagestogethimfixedup,andIhadtostealmostofthesuppliesourso-calleddoctorneeded.ThatwasthewinterbeforeBreewasconscripted,thelasttimeourentirefamilywastogether.Thelasttime.Forever.Weâllneverbewholeagain.
Mom and Dad are with the Guard. Gisa and my living brothers too.Theyâre safe. Theyâre safe. Theyâre safe. I repeat the words as I do everymorning.Theyareacomfort,eveniftheymightnotbetrue.
Slowly, I push awaymy plate of breakfast. The now-familiar spread ofsugaryoatmeal,fruit,andtoastholdsnocomfortforme.
âFinished,âIsayoutofhabit,knowingnoonewillreply.
Kittenisalreadyatmyside,sneeringatthehalf-eatenfood.Shepicksup
theplateasonewouldabug,holdingitatarmâslengthtocarryittothedoor.I raise my eyes quickly, hoping for a single glimpse of the antechamberoutsidemyroom.Likealways,itâsempty,andmyheartsinks.Shedropstheplateonthefloorwithaclatter,maybebreakingit,butthatâsnotherconcern.Someservantwillcleanitup.Thedoorshutsbehindher,andKittenreturnstoherseat.Triooccupiestheotherchair,hisarmscrossed,eyesunblinkingashestares atmy torso. I can feel his ability and hers. They feel like a blanketwrapped too tight, keepingmy lightning pinned and hidden, far away in aplacewhereIcannotevenbegintogo.Itmakesmewanttotearmyskinoff.
Ihateit.Ihateit.
I.Hate.It.
Smash.
I throwmywater glass against the oppositewall, letting it splatter andsplinteragainsthorriblegraypaint.Neitherofmyguardsflinches.Idothisalot.
Andithelps.Foraminute.Maybe.
Ifollowtheusualschedule,theoneIâvedevelopedoverthelastmonthofcaptivity.Wake up. Immediately regret it.Receive breakfast. Lose appetite.Have food taken away. Immediately regret it. Throw water. Immediatelyregretit.Stripbedlinens.Mayberipupthesheets,sometimeswhileshouting.Immediately regret it.Attempt to read a book. Stare outwindow.Stare outwindow.Stareoutwindow.Receivelunch.Repeat.
Iâmaverybusygirl.
OrIguessIshouldsaywoman.
Eighteen is the arbitrary divide between child and adult. And I turnedeighteenweeksago.November17.Notthatanyoneknewornoticed.IdoubttheArvenscarethattheirchargeisanotheryearolder.Onlyonepersoninthisprisonpalacewould.Andhedidnotvisit,tomyrelief.Itâsthesingleblessingtomy captivity.While I am held here, surrounded by theworst people Iâlleverknow,Idonâthavetosufferhispresence.
Untiltoday.
The utter silence aroundme shatters, notwith an explosion, butwith aclick.Thefamiliar turnof thedoor lock.Offschedule,withoutwarrant.Myhead snaps to the sound, as do theArvensâ, their concentrationbreaking insurprise.Adrenalinebleedsintomyveins,drivenbymysuddenlythrumming
heart.Inthesplitsecond,Idaretohopeagain.Idreamofwhocouldbeontheothersideofthedoor.
Mybrothers.Farley.Kilorn.
Cal.
I want it to be Cal. I want his fire to consume this place and all thesepeoplewhole.
But theman standing on the other side is no one I recognize.Only hisclothes are familiarâblack uniform, silver detailing. A Security officer,nameless and unimportant.He steps intomy prison, holding the door openwith his back.More of his like gather outside the doorway, darkening theantechamberwiththeirpresence.
TheArvensjumptotheirfeet,justassurprisedasIam.
âWhatareyoudoing?âTriosneers.ItâsthefirsttimeIâveeverheardhisvoice.
Kittendoesassheis trainedtodo,steppingbetweenmeandtheofficer.Another burst of silence knocks intome, fed by her fear and confusion. Itcrasheslikeawave,eatingatthelittlebitsofstrengthIstillhaveleft.Istayrootedinmychair,loathtofalldowninfrontofotherpeople.
TheSecurityofficersaysnothing,staringatthefloor.Waiting.
Sheenters inreply, inagownmadeofneedles.Hersilverhairhasbeencombed and braidedwith gems in the fashion of the crown she hungers towear. I shudder at the sight of her, perfect and cold and sharp, a queen inbearingifnotyettitle.Becausesheâsstillnotaqueen.Icantell.
âEvangeline,âImurmur,tryingtohidethetremorsinmyvoice,bothfromfear and disuse. Her black eyes pass over me with all the tenderness of acrackingwhip.Headtotoeandbackagain,notingeveryimperfection,everyweakness.Iknowtherearemany.Finallyhergazelandsonmycollar,takinginthepointedmetaledges.Herlipcurlsindisgust,andalsohunger.Howeasyitwouldbeforhertosqueeze,todrivethepointsofthecollarintomythroatandbleedmebone-dry.
âLadySamos,youarenotpermittedtobehere,âKittensays,stillstandingbetweenus.Iâmsurprisedbyherboldness.
Evangelineâseyesflickertomyguard,hersneerspreading.âYouthinkIwoulddisobeytheking,mybetrothed?âSheforcesacoldlaugh.âIamhereonhisorders.Hecommandsthepresenceoftheprisoneratcourt.Now.â
Eachwordstings.Amonthofimprisonmentsuddenlyseemsfartooshort.PartofmewantstograbontothetableandforceEvangelinetodragmeoutofmycage.Butevenisolationhasnotbrokenmypride.Notyet.
Notever,Iremindmyself.SoIstandonweaklimbs,jointsaching,handsquivering.AmonthagoIattackedEvangelineâsbrotherwithlittlemorethanmyteeth. I try tosummonasmuchof that fireas Ican, ifonly tostandupstraight.
Kittenkeepsherground,unmoving.Herhead tips toTrio, lockingeyeswithhercousin.âWehadnoword.Thisisnotprotocol.â
Again Evangeline laughs, showing white, gleaming teeth. Her smile isbeautifulandviolentasablade.âAreyourefusingme,GuardArven?âAsshespeaks,herhandswandertoherdress,runningperfectwhiteskinthroughtheforestofneedles.Bitsof it stick toher likeamagnet, and shecomesawaywith a handful of spikes. She palms the clinging slivers of metal, patient,waiting, one eyebrow raised. The Arvens know better than to extend theircrushingsilencetoaSamosdaughter,letalonethefuturequeen.
The pair of them exchange wordless glances, clearly coming down oneither side of Evangelineâs question. Trio furrows his brow, glaring, andfinallyKittensighsaloud.Shestepsaway.Shebacksdown.
âAchoiceIâllnotforget,âEvangelinemurmurs.
I feelexposedbeforeher,alone in frontofherpiercingeyesdespite theother guards and officers looking on. Evangeline knowsme, knowswhat Iam,what I can do. I almost killed her in the Bowl of Bones, but she ran,afraidofmeandmylightning.Sheiscertainlynotafraidnow.
Deliberate, I take a step forward. Toward her. Toward the blissfulemptinessthatsurroundsher,allowingherability.Anotherstep.Intothefreeair, intoelectricity.WillIfeelit immediately?Willitcomerushingback?Itmust.Ithasto.
Buthersneerbleedsintoasmile.Shematchesmypace,movingback,andIalmostsnarl.âNotsofast,Barrow.â
Itâsthefirsttimesheâseversaidmyrealname.
Shesnapsherfingers,pointingatKitten.âBringheralong.â
Theydragme like theydid the firstdayIarrived,chainedat thecollar,myleashtightlygraspedinKittenâsfist.HersilenceandTrioâscontinue,beatinglikeadruminmyskull.ThelongwalkthroughWhitefirefeelslikesprinting
miles,thoughwemoveataneasypace.Asbefore,Iamnotblindfolded.Theydonâtbothertotrytoconfuseme.
I recognizemore andmore as we get closer to our destination, cuttingdown passages and galleries I explored freely a lifetime ago. Back then Ididnâtfeeltheneedtosortthem.NowIdomybesttomapthepalaceinmyhead. Iâll certainlyneed toknow its layout if I everplan toget out of herealive.Mybedchamberfaceseast,anditisonthefifthfloor;thatmuchIknowfrom counting windows. I remember Whitefire is shaped like interlockingsquares,witheachwingsurroundingacourtyardliketheonemyroomlooksout on. The view out the tall, arched windows changes with every newpassageway.A courtyard garden,Caesarâs Square, the long stretches of thetraining yard where Cal drilled with his soldiers, the distant walls and therebuilt Bridge of Archeon beyond. Thankfully we never pass through theresidences where I found Julianâs journal, where I watched Cal rage andMavenquietlyscheme.Iâmsurprisedbyhowmanymemoriestherestofthepalaceholds,despitemyshorttimehere.
We pass a block of windows on a landing, looking west across thebarracks to the Capital River and the other half of the city beyond it. TheBowlofBonesnestlesamong thebuildings, itshulking form too familiar. Iknow this view. I stood in front of thesewindowswithCal. I lied to him,knowinganattackwouldcomethatnight.ButIdidnâtknowwhatitwoulddoto either of us. Cal whispered then that he wished things were different. Isharethelament.
Cameras must follow our progress, though I can no longer feel them.Evangelinesaysnothingaswedescendto themainfloorof thepalacewithherofficersintow,aflockingtroopofblackbirdsaroundametalswan.Musicechoesfromsomewhere.Itpulseslikeaswollenandheavyheart.Iâveneverheard such music before, not even at the ball I attended or during Calâsdancing lessons. It has a life of its own, something dark and twisting andoddlyinviting.Aheadofme,Evangelineâsshouldersstiffenatthesound.
Thecourt level isoddlyempty,withonlyafewguardspostedalongthepassages.Guards,notSentinels,whowillbewithMaven.Evangelinedoesnâtturn right, as I expect, to enter the throne room through the grand, archingdoors.Instead,shesurgesforward,allofusintow,pushingintoanotherroomIknowalltoowell.
Thecouncil chamber.Aperfect circleofmarbleandpolished,gleamingwood. Seats ring the walls, and the seal of Norta, the Burning Crown,dominates the ornate floor. Red and black and royal silver, with points of
burstingflame.Ialmoststumbleatthesightofit,andIhavetoshutmyeyes.Kittenwillpullmethroughtheroom,Ihavenodoubtofthat.IâllgladlyletherdragmeifitmeansIdonâthavetoseeanymoreofthisplace.Walshdiedhere,Iremember.Herfaceflashesbehindmyeyelids.Shewashunteddownlikearabbit.AnditwaswolvesthatcaughtherâEvangeline,Ptolemus,Cal.TheycapturedherinthetunnelsbeneathArcheon,followingherordersfromthe Scarlet Guard. They found her, dragged her here, and presented her toQueen Elara for interrogation. It never got that far. Because Walsh killedherself. She swallowed a murderous pill in front of us all, to protect thesecretsoftheScarletGuard.Toprotectme.
Whenthemusictriplesinvolume,Iopenmyeyesagain.
Thecouncilchamberisgone,butthesightbeforemeissomehowworse.
THREEMare
Musicdancesontheair,undercutwiththesweetandsickeningbiteofalcoholasitpermeateseveryinchofthemagnificentthroneroom.Westepoutontoalandingelevatedafewfeetabovethechamberfloor,allowingagrandviewoftheraucouspartyâandafewmomentsbeforeanyonerealizesweârehere.
Myeyesdart back and forth, on edge, ondefense, searching every faceand every shadow for opportunity, or danger. Silk and gemstones andbeautiful armor wink beneath the light of a dozen chandeliers, creating ahumanconstellationthatsurgesandtwistsonthemarblefloor.Afteramonthofimprisonment,thesightisanassaultonmysenses,butIgulpitin,agirlstarved.Somanycolors,somanyvoices,somanyfamiliarlordsandladies.Fornowtheytakenonoticeofme.Theireyesdonotfollow.Theirfocusisononeanother, theircupsofwineandmulticolored liquor, theharried rhythm,thefragrantsmokecurlingthroughtheair.Thismustbeacelebration,awildone,butforwhat,Ihavenoidea.
Naturally,mymind flies.Have theywon another victory?Against Cal,againsttheScarletGuard?Oraretheystillcheeringmycapture?
OnelookatEvangelineisanswerenough.Iâveneverseenherscowlthisway, not even atme.Her catlike sneer turns ugly, angry, full of rage like Icanâtimagine.Hereyesdarken,shiftingoverthedisplay.Theyareblacklikeavoid,swallowingupthesightofherpeopleinastateofultimatebliss.
Or,Irealize,ignorance.
Atsomeoneâscommand,aflurryofRedservantspushoffthefarwallandmovethroughthechamberinpracticedformation.Theycarrytraysofcrystalgobletswith liquid like ruby,gold, anddiamond starlight.By the time theyreach the opposite side of the crowd, their trays are empty and are quicklyrefilled.Anotherpass,andthetraysemptyagain.HowsomeoftheSilversarestill standing, I have no idea. They continue in their revelry, talking ordancingwithhandsclawedaroundtheirglasses.Afewpuffonintricatepipes,blowingoddlycoloredsmokeintotheair.Itdoesnâtsmellliketobacco,whichmanyoftheeldersintheStiltsjealouslyhoard.Iwatchsparksintheirpipeswithenvy,eachoneapinprickoflight.
Worseisthesightoftheservants,theReds.Theymakemeache.WhatIwould give to take their place. To be only a servant instead of a prisoner.Stupid,Iscoldmyself.Theyareimprisonedsameasyou.Justlikeallofyourkind.TrappedbeneathaSilverboot,thoughsomehavemoreroomtobreathe.
Becauseofhim.
Evangelinedescendsfromthelanding,andtheArvensforcemetofollow.Thestairsleadusdirectlytothedais,anotherelevatedplatformhighenoughtodenoteitsultimateimportance.AndofcourseadozenSentinelsstanduponit,maskedandarmed,terrifyingineveryinch.
IexpectthethronesIremember.Diamondglassflamesforthekingâsseat,sapphire andpolishedwhite gold for the queenâs. Instead,Maven sits uponthesamekindofthroneIsawhimrisefromamonthago,whenheheldmechainedinfrontoftheworld.
No gems, no precious metals. Just slabs of gray stone swirled withsomethingshiny, flat-edged,andbrutallyabsentof insignia. It lookscold tothe touch and uncomfortable, not tomention terribly heavy. It dwarfs him,makinghimseemyoungerandsmaller thanever.To lookpowerful is tobepowerful.AlessonIlearnedfromElara,thoughsomehowMavendidnât.Heseemstheboyheis,sharplypaleagainsthisblackuniform,theonlycoloronhimthebloodredliningofhiscape,asilverriotofmedals,andtheshiveringblueofhiseyes.
KingMavenofHouseCaloremeetsmygazethemomentheknowsIâmhere.
Theinstanthangs,suspendedonathreadoftime.Acanyonofdistractionsyawnsbetweenus,filledwithsomuchnoiseandgracefulchaos,buttheroommightaswellbeempty.
Iwonder if he notices the difference inme. The sickness, the pain, thetorturemyquietprisonhasputmethrough.Hemust.Hiseyesslideovermypronouncedcheekbones tomycollar,downto thewhiteshift theydressmein.Iâmnotbleedingthistime,butIwishIwere.ToshoweveryonewhatIam,whatIâvealwaysbeen.Red.Wounded.Butalive.AsIdidbefore thecourt,beforeEvangelineafewminutesago,Istraightenmyspine,andstarewithallthe strength and accusation I have to give. I take him in, looking for thecracksonly Icansee.Shadowedeyes, twitchinghands,postureso rigidhisspinemightshatter.
Youareamurderer,MavenCalore,acoward,aweakness.
Itworks.He tears his eyes away fromme and springs to his feet, bothhandsstillgrippingthearmsofhisthrone.Hisragefallsliketheblowfromahammer.
âExplainyourself,GuardArven!âheeruptsatmyclosestjailer.
Triojumpsinhisboots.
Theoutburststopsthemusic,thedancing,andthedrinkinginthespanofaheartbeat.
âS-Sirââ Trio sputters, and one of his gloved hands grips my arm. Itbleeds silence, enough to make my heartbeat slow. He tries to find anexplanation that doesnât place blame on himself, or the future queen, butcomesupshort.
MychaintremblesinKittenâshand,buthergripisstilltight.
Only Evangeline is unaffected by the kingâs wrath. She expected thisresponse.
Hedidnâtorderhertobringme.Therewasnosummonsatall.
Mavenisnotafool.HewavesahandatTrio,endinghismumblingwithasinglemotion. âYour feeble attempt is answer enough,â he says. âWhat doyouhavetosayforyourself,Evangeline?â
In the crowd, her father stands tall, watching with wide, stern eyes.Anothermightcallhimafraid,butIdonâtthinkVoloSamoshasthepowertofeel emotion. He simply strokes his pointed silver beard, his expressionunreadable.Ptolemusisnotsogiftedathidinghisthoughts.Hestandsonthedaiswith theSentinels, theonlyonewithoutfieryrobesoramask.Thoughhis body is still, his eyes dart between the king and his sister, and one fistclenches slowly.Good. Fear for her as I feared formy brother.Watch hersufferasIwatchedhimdie.
Because what else can Maven do now? Evangeline has deliberatelydisobeyedhisorders, leapingpast theallowances theirbetrothalallows. If Iknowanything,Iknowthattocrossthekingistobepunished.Andtodoithere,infrontoftheentirecourt?Hemightjustexecuteheronthespot.
IfEvangeline thinks sheâs risking death, she doesnât show it.Her voicenever cracks or wavers. âYou ordered the terrorist to be imprisoned, shutawaylikeauselessbottleofwine,andafteramonthofcouncildeliberation,therehasbeennoagreementonwhatis tobedonewithher.Hercrimesaremany,worthyofadozendeaths,athousandlifetimesinourworstjails.She
killedormaimedhundredsof your subjects since shewasdiscovered, yourownparentsincluded,andstillsherestsinacomfortablebedchamber,eating,breathingâalivewithoutthepunishmentshedeserves.â
Maven is his motherâs son, and his court facade is nearly perfect.Evangelineâswordsdonâtseemtobotherhimintheslightest.
âThepunishment she deserves,â he repeats.Thenhe looks to the room,onecornerofhischinraised.âSoyoubroughtherhere.Really,aremypartiesthatbad?â
A thrum of laughter, both genuine and forced, ripples through the raptcrowd.Most of them are drunk, but there are enough clear heads to knowwhatâsgoingon.WhatEvangelinehasdone.
EvangelinepullsacourtlysmilethatlookssopainfulIexpectherlipstostartbleedingatthecorners.âIknowyouaregrievingforyourmother,YourMajesty,âshesayswithoutahintofsympathy.âAsweallare.Butyourfatherwouldnotactthisway.Thetimefortearsisover.â
Thoselastarenotherwords,butthewordsofTiberiastheSixth.Mavenâsfather,Mavenâsghost.Hismaskthreatenstoslipforamoment,andhiseyesflashwithequalpartsdreadandanger.Irememberthosewordsaswellashedoes.Spokenbeforeacrowdjustlikethis,inthewakeoftheScarletGuardâsexecution of political targets. Targets chosen byMaven, fed to him by hismother.Wedidtheirdirtywork,whiletheyaddedtothebodycountwithanatrocious attack of their own. They used me, used the Guard to eliminatesomeoftheirenemiesanddemonizeothersinonefellswoop.Theydestroyedmore,killedmorethananyofuseverwanted.
Icanstill smell thebloodandsmoke. I canstillhearamotherweepingoverherdeadchildren.Icanstillhearthewordsframingtherebellionforitall.
âStrength,power,death,âMavenmurmurs,histeethclicking.Thewordsscaredmethen,andtheyterrifymenow.âWhatdoyousuggest,mylady?Abeheading?Afiringsquad?Dowetakeherapart,piecebypiece?â
Myheartgallopsinmychest.WouldMavenallowsuchathing?Idonâtknow.Idonâtknowwhathewoulddo.Ihavetoremindmyself,Idonâtevenknowhim.TheboyIthoughthimtobewasanillusion.Butthenotes,brutallyleft,butfullofpleasformetoreturn?Themonthofquiet,gentlecaptivity?Perhaps thosewere false too, another trick to ensnareme.Another kind oftorture.
âWedoasthelawrequires.Asyourfatherwouldhavedone.â
Theway she says father, using the word as brutally as she would anyknife,isconfirmationenough.Likesomanypeopleinthisroom,sheknowsTiberiastheSixthdidnotendthewaythestoriessay.
Still,Mavengripshisthrone,white-knucklingthegrayslabs.Heglancesatthecourt,feelingtheireyesuponhim,beforesneeringbackatEvangeline.âNot only are you not amember ofmy council, but you did not knowmyfatherwellenoughtoknowhismind.Iamakingashewas,andIunderstandthe things that must be done for victory. Our laws are sacred, but we arefightingtwowarsnow.â
Twowars.
Adrenaline pulses through me so quickly I think my lightning hasreturned.No,notlightning.Hope.Ibitemyliptokeepfromgrinning.WeeksintomycaptivitytheScarletGuardcontinues,andthrives.Notonlyaretheystill fighting, but Maven admits it openly. They are impossible to hide ordismissnow.
Despitetheneedtoknowmore,Ikeepmymouthshut.
MavenburnsastarethroughEvangeline.âNoenemyprisoner,especiallynot one as valuable as Mare Barrow, should be wasted on commonexecution.â
âYouwasteher still!âEvangeline argues, firingback soquickly Iknowshe must have practiced for this argument. She takes a few more stepsforward,closingthedistancebetweenherselfandMaven.Itallseemsashow,anact,somethingplayedoutontheplatformforthecourttowitness.Butforwhose benefit? âShe sits collecting dust, doing nothing, giving us nothing,whileCorviumburns!â
Another jewelof information tokeepclose.More,Evangeline.Givememore.
Isawthefortresscity,theheartoftheNortanmilitary,eruptinriotswithmyowneyesamonthago. Itâs stillhappening.MentionofCorviumsobersthecrowd.Mavendoesnotmissit,andhefightstokeephiscalm.
âThe council is days away from a decision,my lady,â he says throughgrittedteeth.
âForgive my boldness, Your Majesty. I know you wish to honor yourcouncilasbestyoucan,eventheweakestpartsofit.Eventhecowardswho
cannotdowhatmustbedone.âAnotherstepcloser,andhervoicesoftenstoapurr.âButyouaretheking.Thedecisionisyours.â
Masterful, I realize. Evangeline is just as adept at manipulation as anyother.Inafewwords,sheâsnotonlysavedMavenfromappearingweak,butalsoforcedhimtofollowherwilltomaintainanimageofstrength.Inspiteofmyself,Idrawinaharriedbreath.Willhedoasshebids?Orwillherefuse,throwing fuel on the fire of insurrection already blazing through the HighHouses?
Mavenisnofool.HeunderstandswhatEvangelineisdoing,andhekeepshis focus on her. They hold each otherâs gaze, communicatingwith forcedsmilesandsharpeyes.
âQueenstrialcertainlydidbringforththemosttalenteddaughter,âhesays,takingherhand.Bothofthemlookdisgustedbytheaction.Hisheadsnapstothe crowd, looking to a lean man in dark blue. âCousin! Your petition ofinterrogationisgranted.â
SamsonMerandussnapstoattentionandemergesfromthecrowd,clear-eyed.Hebows, almost grinning.Blue robesbillow,dark as smoke. âThankyou,YourMajesty.â
âNo.â
Thewordwrenchesitselffromme.
âNo,Maven!â
Samsonmovesquickly, ascending theplatformwith controlled fury.Heclosesthedistancebetweenusinafewdeterminedstrides,untilhiseyesaretheonlythinginmyworld.Blueeyes,Elaraâseyes,Mavenâseyes.
âMaven!âIgaspagain,beggingeventhoughitwilldonothing.BeggingeventhoughitburnsmypridetothinkIâmaskinghimforanything.Butwhatelseistheretodo?Samsonisawhisper.Heâlldestroymefromtheinsideout,search everything I am, everything I know. How many people will diebecauseofwhatIâveseen?âMaven,please!Donâtlethimdothis!â
Iâm not strong enough to break Kittenâs grasp on my chain, or evenstrugglemuchwhenTrioseizesmyshoulders.Bothofthemholdmeinplacewithease.MyeyesflashfromSamsontoMaven.Onehandonhisthrone,onehandinEvangelineâs.Imissyou,hisnotessaid.Heisunreadable,butatleastheâslooking.
Good. If he wonât save me from this nightmare, I want him to see it
happen.
âMaven,â Iwhisper one last time, trying to sound likemyself. Not thelightninggirl,notMareena the lostprincess,butMare.Thegirlhewatchedthroughthebarsofacellandpledgedtosave.Butthatgirlisnâtenough.Hedropshiseyes.Helooksaway.
Iamalone.
Samson takesmy throat in his hand, squeezing above themetal collar,forcingme to look intohiswretched, familiareyes.Blueas ice,and justasunforgiving.
âYou were wrong to kill Elara,â he says, not bothering to temper hiswords.âShewasasurgeonwithminds.â
Heleansin,hungry,astarvingmanabouttodevourameal.
âIamabutcher.â
When the sounder device leveled me, I wallowed in agony for three longdays. A storm of radio waves turned my own electricity against me. Itresounded inmy skin, rattling betweenmynerves like bolts in a jar. It leftscars.Jaggedlinesofwhitefleshdownmyneckandspine,ugly things thatIâm still not used to. They twinge and tug at odd angles, making benignmovementspainful.Evenmysmilesaretainted,smallerinthewakeofwhatwasdonetome.
NowIwouldbegforitifIcould.
Thescreechingclickofasounderasitpeelsmeapartwouldbeaheaven,abliss,amercy.Iwouldratherbebrokeninboneandmuscle,shattereddowntoteethandfingernails,obliteratedineveryinch,thansufferanothersecondofSamsonâswhispers.
Icanfeelhim.Hismind.Fillingupmycornerslikeacorruptionora rotor a cancer. He scrapes inside my head with sharp skin and even sharperintentions.Anypartofmenottakenbyhispoisonwrithesinpain.Heenjoysdoing this tome.This is his revenge, after all. Forwhat I did toElara, hisbloodandhisqueen.
Shewasthefirstmemoryhetorefromme.Mylackofremorseincensedhim, and I regret it now. I wish I couldâve forced some sympathy, but theimage of her death was too frightening for much more than shock. Irememberitnow.Heforcesmeto.
In an instant of blinding pain, sucking me backward through my
memories, I findmyself back in themoment I killed her.My ability drawslightningoutoftheskyinraggedlinesofpurple-white.Onestrikesherhead-on,cascadingintohereyesandmouth,downherneckandarms,fromfingerstotoesandbackagain.Thesweatonherskinboilstosteam,herfleshcharsuntil it smokes, and thebuttonsonher jacket turn redhot, burning throughcloth and skin. She jerks, tearing at herself, trying to be rid ofmy electricrage. Her fingertips rip clean, exposing bone, while the muscles of herbeautifulfacegoslack,droopingfromtherelentlesspullofjumpingcurrents.Ash-whitehairburnsblackandsmolders,disintegrating.Andthesmell.Thesound.Shescreamsuntilhervocalcordspullapart.Samsonmakessure thescene passes slowly, his ability manipulating the forgotten memory untileverysecondbrandsitselfintomyconscience.Abutcherindeed.
Hisragesendsmespinningwithnothingtoclingto,caughtinastormIcannotcontrol.AllIcandoispraynottoseewhatSamsonissearchingfor.ItrytokeepShadeâsnamefrommythoughts.ButthewallsIputuparelittlemore thanpaper.Samson rips through themgleefully. I feeleachonebeingtorn away, another part ofmemangled.Heknowswhat Iâm trying to keepfromhim,toneverlivethroughagain.Hechasesthroughmythoughts,fasterthanmybrain,outrunningeveryweakattempttostophim.Itrytoscreamorbeg,butnosoundcomesfrommymouthormind.Heholdseverythinginthepalmofhishand.
âTooeasy.âHisvoiceechoesinme,aroundme.
LikeElaraâsending,Shadeâsdeathiscapturedinperfect,painfuldetail.Imust reliveeveryawful second inmyownbody,unable todoanythingbutwatch,trappedinsidemyself.Radiationtangstheair.CorrosPrisonisontheedgeoftheWash,closetothenuclearwastelandformingoursouthernborder.Coldmist shroudsmorning against a graydawn.For amoment, all is still,suspended in balance. I stare out, unmoving, frozen midstep. The prisonyawns at my back, still shuddering with the riot we began. Prisoners andpursuersbleedfromitsgates.Followingustofreedom,orsomethinglikeit.Cal is alreadygone,his familiar formahundredyardsaway. ImadeShadejump him first, to protect one of our only pilots, and our only manner ofescape. Kilorn is still withme, frozen as I am, his rifle tucked against hisshoulder. He aims behind us, at Queen Elara, her guards, and PtolemusSamos.Abulletexplodesfromthemuzzle,bornofsparksandgunpowder.It,too, hangs in midair, waiting for Samson to release his grip on my mind.Overhead,theskyswirls,heavywithelectricity.Myownpower.ThefeelofitwouldmakemecryifIcould.
Thememorybeginstomove,slowlyatfirst.
Ptolemusforgeshimselfalong,gleamingneedleinadditiontothemanyweaponsalreadyathand.TheperfectedgeglitterswithRedandSilverblood,eachdropletagemstonewarblingthroughtheair.Despiteherability,AraIralis not fast enough to dodge its lethal arc. It slices through her neck in onelingeringsecond.Shefallsafewfeetawayfromme,sluggishly,asifthroughwater.Ptolemusmeanstokillmeinthesamemotion,usingthemomentumofhisblowtoturntheneedleonmyheart. Instead,hefindsmybrother in theway.
Shade jumpsback to us, to teleportme to safety.His bodymaterializesfromthinair:firsthischestandhead,thenhisextremitiespaintintoexistence.Handsoutstretched,eyesfocused,hisattentiononlyonme.Hedoesnâtseetheneedle.Hedoesnâtknowheâsabouttodie.
ItwasnotPtolemusâs intent tokillShade,buthedoesnâtminddoing it.Anotherenemydeadmakesnodifferencetohim.Justanotherobstacleinhiswar,anotherbodywithnonameandnoface.HowmanytimeshaveIdonethesamething?
HeprobablydoesnâtevenknowwhoShadeis.
Was.
Iknowwhatcomesnext,butnomatterhowhardItry,Samsonwonâtletme shutmy eyes.The needle piercesmybrotherwith clean grace, throughmuscleandorgan,bloodandheart.
Somethinginmeeruptsandtheskyresponds.Asmybrotherfalls,sodoesmy rage. But I never feel the bittersweet release of it. The lightning neverstrikestheearth,killingElaraandscatteringherguardsasitshould.Samsonnever allows me that small mercy. Instead, he pulls the scene backward.Againitplays.Againmybrotherdies.
Again.
Again.
Each timehe forcesme to see somethingelse.Amistake.Amisstep.Achoice I couldâvemade to savehim.Small decisions.Stephere, turn there,runabitfaster.Itistortureoftheworstkind.
Lookwhatyoudid.Lookwhatyoudid.Lookwhatyoudid.
Hisvoiceripples,allaroundme.
OthermemoriessplinterthroughShadeâsdeath,visionsbleedingintoone
another.Eachplaysonadifferentfearorweakness.ThereâsthetinycorpseIfound in Templyn, a Red babymurdered byMavenâs newblood hunters atMavenâs command. In another instant, Farleyâs fist connectswithmy face.She screams horrible things, blamingme for Shadeâs death while her ownanguishthreatenstoconsumeher.SteamingtearsrundownCalâscheeksasaswordtremblesinhishand,thebladeedgedagainsthisfatherâsneck.Shadeâsmeager graveonTuck, alonebeneath the autumn sky.TheSilver officers Ielectrocuted in Corros, in Harbor Bay, men and women who were onlyfollowingorders.Theyhadnochoice.Nochoice.
Irememberallthedeath.Alltheheartache.Thelookonmysisterâsfacewhen anofficer brokeher hand.Kilornâsbleedingknuckleswhenhe foundout he was going to be conscripted. My brothers taken to war. My fatherreturning from the front half aman inmind and body, exiling himself to aricketywheelchairâandalifeapartfromus.Mymotherâssadeyeswhenshetoldmeshewasproudofme.Alie.Alienow.Andfinallythesickache,thehollowtruththatdoggedeverymomentofmyoldlifeâthatIwasultimatelydoomed.
Istillam.
Samsonsweepsthroughitallwithabandon.Hepullsmethroughuselessmemories,drawnuponlytosubjectmetomorepain.Shadowsjumpthroughthe thoughts.Moving images behind every painfulmoment. Samson spoolsthrough them, too fast for me to truly grasp. But I gather enough. TheColonelâsface,hisscarleteye,hislipsformingwordsIcanâthear.ButsurelySamsoncan.Thisiswhatheâslookingfor.Intelligence.Secretshecanusetocrushtherebellion.Ifeellikeaneggwithacrackedshell,slowlyseepingmyinnards.Hepullswhateverhewantsfromme.Idonâtevenhavetheabilitytofeelashamedatwhatelsehefinds.
Nights spent curled against Cal. Forcing Cameron to join our cause.Stolen moments rereading Mavenâs sickening notes. Memories of who Ithought the forgotten prince was. My cowardice. My nightmares. Mymistakes.EveryselfishstepItookthatledmehere.
Lookwhatyoudid.Lookwhatyoudid.Lookwhatyoudid.
Mavenwillknowitallsoonenough.
Thiswasalwayswhathewanted.
Thewords,scrawledinhisloopinghand,burnthroughmythoughts.
Imissyou.
Untilwemeetagain.
FOURCameron
Istillcanâtbelievewesurvived.Idreamaboutitsometimes.WatchingthemdragMareaway,herbodyheldtightlybetweenapairofgiganticstrongarms.Theywereglovedagainsther lightning,not thatshe tried touse itaftershemade her bargain.Her life for ours. I didnât expectKingMaven to followthrough. Not with his exiled brother on the line. But he kept his deal. Hewantedhermorethantherest.
Still,Iwakeupfromtheusualnightmares,afraidheandhishuntershavereturned to kill us. The snores from the rest of my bunk room chase thethoughtsaway.
They toldme the newheadquarterswas a bleeding ruin, but I expectedsomethingmorelikeTuck.Aonce-abandonedfacility,isolatedbutfunctional,rebuilt in secretwith all the amenities aburgeoning rebellionmightneed. IhatedTuckonsight.Theblockbarracksandguard-likesoldiers,eveniftheywere Red, reminded me too much of Corros Prison. I saw the island asanotherjail.AnothercellIwasbeingforcedinto,thistimebyMareBarrowinsteadof aSilver officer.But at least onTuck I had the sky aboveme.Aclean breeze in my lungs. Compared to Corros, compared to New Town,comparedtothis,Tuckwasareprieve.
Now I shiverwith the rest in the concrete tunnels of Irabelle, a ScarletGuardstrongholdon theoutskirtsof theLakelandercityofTrial.Thewallsfeelfrozentothetouch,andiciclesdanglefromroomswithoutaheatsource.A fewof theGuard officers have taken to followingCal around, if only totake advantage of his radiating warmth. I do the opposite, avoiding hislumbering presence as best I can. I have no use for the Silver prince,wholooksatmewithnothingbutaccusation.
AsifIcouldhavesavedher.
My barely trained ability was nowhere near enough. And you werenâtenougheither,YourBleedingHighness,Iwanttosnapathimeverytimewecross paths.His flamewas nomatch for the king andhis hunters.Besides,Mareofferedthetradeandmadeherchoice.Ifheâsangryatanyone,itshouldbeher.
The lightning girl did it to save us, and for that I am always thankful.Even if she was a self-centered hypocrite, she doesnât deserve whatâshappeningtoher.
TheColonelgavetheordertoevacuateTuckthemomentwewereabletoradio back to him.He knew any interrogation ofMareBarrowwould leaddirectlytotheisland.Farleywasabletogeteveryonetosafety,eitherinboatsor the massive cargo jet stolen from the prison. We were forced to traveloverland ourselves, hightailing from the crash site to rendezvous with theColonelacrosstheborder.Isayforcedbecause,onceagain,Iwastoldwhattodoandwheretogo.WehadbeenflyingtotheChokeinanattempttorescuealegionofchildsoldiers.Mybrotherwasoneofthem.Butourmissionhadtobe abandoned.For now, they told me every time I got enough courage torefuseanotherstepawayfromthewarfront.
The memory makes my cheeks burn. I shouldâve kept going. Theywouldnâthavestoppedme.Couldnâthavestoppedme.But Iwasafraid.Soclosetothetrenchline,Irealizedwhatitmeanttomarchalone.Iwouldhavediedinvain.Still,Icanâtshaketheshameofthatchoice.Iwalkedawayandleftmybrotheryetagain.
Ittookweeksforeveryonetoreunite.Farleyandherofficersarrivedlastofall.Ithinkherfather,theColonel,spenteverydayshewasgonepacingthefrigidhallsofournewbase.
At the very least, Barrowâs making her imprisonment useful. Thedistractionof such a prisoner, not tomention theboilingmessofCorvium,hasstalledanytroopmovementsaroundtheChoke.Mybrotherissafe.Well,assafeasafifteen-year-oldcanpossiblybewithagunandauniform.SaferthanMarecertainlyis.
IdonâtknowhowmanytimesIâveseenKingMavenâsaddress.Caltookoveracornerofthecontrolroomtoplayitagainandagainoncewearrived.The first time we saw it, I donât think any of us dared to breathe.We allfearedtheworst.WethoughtwewereabouttowatchMareloseherhead.Herbrothers were beside themselves, fighting tears, and Kilorn couldnât evenlook,hidinghisfaceinhishands.WhenMavendeclaredexecutionwastoogood for her, I think Bree actually fainted in relief. But Cal looked on indeafeningsilence,hisbrowsknittogetherinfocus.Deepdownheknew,likewealldid,thatsomethingmuchworsethandeathwaitedforMareBarrow.
ShekneltbeforeaSilverkingandstoodstillwhileheputacollararoundherthroat.Saidnothing,didnothing.Lethimcallheraterroristandmurderer
before theeyesofourentirenation.Partofmewishessheâdsnapped,but Iknowshecouldnâtputa toeoutof line.She justglaredat everyonearoundher,eyessweepingbackandforthbetweentheSilverscrowdingherplatform.Theyallwantedtogetclosetoher.Huntersaroundatrophykill.
In spite of the crown,Maven didnât look so kingly. Tired,maybe sick,definitelyangry.Probablybecausethegirlnexttohimhadjustmurderedhismother.He tuggedatMareâscollar, forcedher towalk inside.Shemanagedone last look over her shoulder, eyes wide and searching. But another tugturnedheraroundforgood,andwehavenâtseenherfacesince.
Sheâsbeenthere,andIâvebeenhere,rotting,freezing,spendingmydaysrewiringequipmentolderthanIam.Allofitableedingwaste.
I steal one lastminute inmybunk to think aboutmybrother,wherehemightbe,whatheâsdoing.Morrey.My twin innothingbutappearance.Hewas a soft boy in the hard alleys of New Town, constantly sick from thefactory smoke. I donât want to imagine what military training has done tohim.Dependingonwhoyouask,techieworkerswereeithertoovaluableortooweakforthearmy.UntiltheScarletGuardstartedtheirmeddling,killedafewSilvers,andforcedtheoldkingintosomemeddlingofhisown.Wewereboth conscripted, even though we had jobs. Even though we were onlyfifteen. The bloody Measures enacted by Calâs own father changedeverything.Wewereselected,toldtobesoldiers,andweweremarchedawayfromourparents.
Theysplitusupalmostimmediately.Mynamewasonsomelistandhiswasnât.Once,IwasgratefulIwastheonesenttoCorros.Morreywouldhaveneversurvivedthecells.NowIwishwecouldtradeplaces.Himfree,andmeonthelines.ButnomatterhowmanytimesIpetitiontheColonelforanotherattemptattheLittleLegion,healwaysturnsmeaway.
SoImightaswellaskagain.
The tool belt is a familiarweight aroundmy hips, thunkingwith everystep.Iwalkwithpurpose,enoughtodeteranyonewhomightbother tostopme.Butforthemostpart,thehallsareempty.Nooneisaroundtowatchmestalkpast,gnawingonabreakfastroll.Morecaptainsandtheirunitsmustbeoutonpatrolagain,scoutingTrialandtheborder.LookingforReds,Ithink,the ones lucky enough to make it north. Some come here to join up, buttheyâre always ofmilitary age orworkerswith skills useful to the cause. Idonât know where the families are sent: the orphans, the widows, thewidowers.Theoneswhowouldonlybeintheway.
Likeme.ButIgetunderfootonpurpose.Itâstheonlywaytogetanykindofattention.
TheColonelâsbroomclosetâImeanofficeâisonefloorabovethebunkrooms. I donât bother to knock, trying thedoorknob instead. It turns easily,opening into a grim, cramped room with concrete walls, a few lockedcabinets,andacurrentlyoccupieddesk.
âHeâsoverincontrol,âFarleysays,notlookingupfromherpapers.Herhandsareink-stained,andthereareevensmudgesonhernoseandunderherbloodshoteyes.SheporesoverwhatlooklikeGuardcommunications,codedmessages and orders. From Command, I know, remembering the constantwhispers about the upper levels of the ScarletGuard.No one knowsmuchabout them, leastof allme.Nobody tellsmeanythingunless I askadozentimes.
I frown at her appearance. Despite the table hiding her stomach, hercondition has begun to show. Her face and fingers look swollen. Not tomentionthethreeplatespiledwithfoodscraps.
âProbablyagoodideatosleepnowandthen,Farley.â
âProbably.âSheseemsannoyedbymyconcern.
Fine,donâtlisten.Withalowsigh,Iturnbacktothedoorway,puttingherbehindme.
âLethimknowCorviumisontheedge,âFarleyadds,hervoicestrongandcutting.Anorderbutalsosomethingelse.
Iglanceovermyshoulderather,aneyebrowraised.âEdgeofwhat?â
âTherehavebeenriots,sporadicreportsofSilverofficersturningupdead,and ammunition depots have developed a nasty habit of exploding.â Shealmost smirksat that.Almost. Ihavenât seenher smile sinceShadeBarrowdied.
âSoundslikefamiliarwork.IstheScarletGuardinthecity?â
Finallyshelooksup.âNottoourknowledge.â
âThen the legions are turning.âHope flares sharp and raw inmy chest.âTheRedsoldiersââ
âThereâs thousandsof themstationedatCorvium.Andmore thana fewhaverealizedtheysubstantiallyoutnumbertheirSilverofficers.Fourtoone,atleast.â
Fourtoone.Justlikethat,myhopesours.IâveseenwhatSilversareandwhattheycandofirsthand.Iâvebeentheirprisonerandtheiropponent,abletofightonlybecauseofmyownability.FourRedsagainstasingleSilverisstillsuicide.Stillanoutrightloss.ButFarleydoesnâtseemtoagree.
She sensesmyunease and softens asbest she can.Like a razor turningintoaknife.âYourbrotherisnâtinthecity.TheDaggerLegionisstillbehindthelinesoftheChoke.â
Stuckbetweenaminefieldandacityonfire.Fantastic.
âItâsnotMorreythatIâmworriedabout.âAtthemoment.âIjustdonâtseehowtheycanexpect to take thecity.Theymighthave thenumbers,but theSilvers are ⊠well, theyâre Silvers. A few dozen magnetrons could killhundredswithoutblinking.â
IpictureCorviuminmyhead.Iâveonlyseenit inbriefvideos,snippetstaken from Silver broadcasts or report footage filtered down through theScarlet Guard. Itâs more fortress than city, walled with foreboding blackstone,amonolithlookingnorthtothebarrenwastesofwar.SomethingaboutitremindsmeoftheplaceIreluctantlycalledhome.NewTownhadwallsofitsown,andsomanyofficersoverseeingour lives.Wewere thousands too,butouronlyrebellionswerebeinglatetoshiftorsneakingoutaftercurfew.There was nothing to be done. Our lives were weak and meaningless assmoke.
Farleyturnsbacktoherwork.âJusttellhimwhatIsaid.Heâllknowwhattodo.â
Icanonlynod,shuttingthedoorasshetriesandfailstohideayawn.
âHavetorecalibratethevideoreceivers,CaptainFarleyâsordersââ
ThetwoGuardsmenflankingthedoortocentralcontrolstepbackbeforeIevenfinishmysentence,myusuallie.Bothlookaway,avoidingmygaze,andIfeelmyfaceburnwithanashamedflush.
NewbloodsscarepeopleasmuchasSilversdo,ifnotmoreso.Redswithabilitiesarejustasunpredictable,justaspowerful,justasdangerous,intheireyes.
Afterwefirstgothereandmoresoldiersarrived, thewhispersaboutmeandtheothersspreadlikedisease.Theoldwomancanchangeherface.Thetwitchyonecansurroundyouwithillusions.Thetechiegirlcankillyouwiththoughtalone. It feels terrible tobe feared.Andworst of all, I canâtblameanyoneforit.Wearedifferentandstrange,withpowersnotevenSilverscan
claim.We are frayedwires and glitchingmachines, still learning ourselvesandourabilities.Whoknowswhatwemightbecome?
Iswallowthefamiliardiscomfortandstepintothenextroom.
Central control usually buzzes with screens and communicationequipment, but for now the room is oddly quiet.Only a single broadcasterwhirs, spitting out a long strip of correspondence paper printed with adecryptedmessage.TheColonelstandsoverthemachine,readingasthestriplengthens.Hisusualghosts,Mareâsbrothers,sitcloseby,bothofthemjumpyasrabbits.And thefourthoccupantof theroomisall Ineed toknowaboutwhateverreportiscomingin.
ThisisnewsofMareBarrow.
WhyelsewouldCalbeheretoo?
He broods, as usual, his chin resting on interlocked fingers. Long daysundergroundhavetakentheirtoll,palinghisalready-paleskin.Foraprince,hereallyletshimselfgointimesofcrisis.Rightnowhelookslikeheneedsashowerandashave,nottomentionafewwell-aimedslapstowakehimoutofhisstupor.Butheâsasoldierstill.Hiseyessnaptominebeforetheothersâ.
âCameron,âhesays,doinghisbestnottogrowl.
âCalore.âHeâsanexiledprinceatbest.Noneedfortitles.UnlessIreallywanttopisshimoff.
Like father, like daughter. Colonel Farley doesnât look up from thecommunication, but he acknowledgesmewith a dramatic sigh. âLetâs saveourselves some time, Cameron. I have neither the manpower nor theopportunitytoattemptrescuinganentirelegion.â
Imouththewordsalongwithhim.Hesaysthemtomealmosteveryday.
âAlegionofbarelytrainedchildrenwhoMavenwillslaughteroncegiventheopportunity,âIcounter.
âSoyoukeepremindingme.â
âBecause you need to be reminded! Sir,â I add, almost wincing at theword.Sir.IâmnotoathedtotheGuard,nomatterhowmuchtheytreatmelikeamemberoftheirclub.
The Colonelâs eyes narrow in on part of the message. âSheâs beeninterrogated.â
Calstandssoquicklyheknocksoverhischair.âMerandus?â
Atremorofheatpulsesthroughtheroom,andIfeelarippleofsicknessinme. Not because of Cal, but because of Mare. Because of the horrorshappeningtoher.Upset,Iknitmyhandstogetherbehindmyhead,pullingthecurlydarkhairatthenapeofmyneck.
âYes,âtheColonelreplies.âAmannamedSamson.â
Theprincecursesquitecolorfullyforaroyal.
âWhatdoesthatmean?âBree,Mareâsburlyeldestbrother,darestoask.
Tramy,theothersurvivingBarrowson,frownsdeeply.âMerandusisthequeenâshouse.Whispersâmindreaders.Theyâllpullheraparttofindus.â
âAndforsport,âCalmurmurswitha lowrumble.BothBarrowbrothersflushredat the implication.Breeblinksbackfierce,sudden tears. Iwant totakehisarm,but I stay still. Iâve seenenoughpeople flinchaway frommytouch.
âWhichiswhyMareknowsnothingofouroperationsoutsideTuck,andTuck has been thoroughly left behind,â the Colonel says quickly. Itâs true.They abandoned Tuck with blinding speed, casting off anything thatMareBarrow knew of. Even the Silvers we captured from Corrosâor rescued,depending onwho you askâwere left at the coast. Too dangerous to keepholdof,toomanytocontrol.
Iâveonlybeenwith theScarletGuardamonth,butIalreadyknowtheirwords by heart.Rise, red as the dawn, of course, and know only what youneed.Thefirstisabattlecry,thesecondawarning.
âWhatevershegives themwillbeperipheralatbest,âheadds.âNothingimportantaboutCommand,andlittleaboutourdealingsoutsideNorta.â
Noonecares,Colonel. I bitemy tongue to keep from snapping at him.Mare isaprisoner.Sowhat if theydonâtgetanythingabout theLakelands,Piedmont,orMontfort?
Montfort. The distant nation ruled by a so-called democracy, an equalbalanceofReds,Silvers,andnewbloods.Aparadise?Maybe,butIhavelongsincelearnedthatparadisedoesnotexistinthisworld.Iprobablyknowmoreabout the country than Mare now, what with the twins, Rash and Tahir,always squawking aboutMontfortâs merits. Iâm not stupid enough to trusttheirword.Nottomentionitâspuretortureholdingaconversationwiththem,always finishing each otherâs thoughts and sentences. Sometimes Iwant tousemysilenceonthemboth,tosevertheabilitythatbindstheirthoughtsintoone.Butthatwouldbecruel,nottomentionidiotic.Peoplearealreadywary
ofuswithoutwatchingnewbloodsability-bicker.
âDoeswhattheygetoutofherreallymatterrightnow?âIforcethroughgritted teeth.Hopefully theColonel understandswhat Iâm trying to say.Atleastspareherbrothersthis,Colonel.Havesomeshame.
He just blinks, one good eye and one destroyed. âIf you canât stomachintelligence,thendonâtcometocontrol.Weneedtoknowwhattheygotoutofherininterrogation.â
âSamsonMerandus is an arena fighter, thoughhehas no reason to be,âCalsaysina lowvoice.Tryingtobegentle.âHeenjoysusinghisabilitytoinflictpain. Ifhe is theone to interrogateMare, thenâŠâHestumblesoverthewords, reluctant to speak. âItâllbe torture,plainandsimple.Mavenhasgivenhertoatorturer.â
EventheColonellooksdisturbedbythethought.
Cal stares at the floor, silent for a long, stoicmoment. âInever thoughtMavenwoulddothattoher,âhemuttersfinally.âSheprobablydidnâteither.â
Then youâre both stupid, my brain screams.How many times does onewickedboyhavetobetrayyoupeoplebeforeyoulearn?
âDidyouneedsomethingelse,Cameron?âColonelFarleyasks.Herollsupthemessage,spoolingitlikeacircleofthread.Therestisclearlynotformyears.
âItâsaboutCorvium.Farleysaysitâsontheedge.â
TheColonelblinks.âThosewereherwords?â
âThatâswhatIsaid.â
SuddenlyIâmnolongerthefocusofhisattention.Instead,hiseyessweeptoCal.
âThenitâstimetopush.â
TheColonellookseager,butCalcouldnotseemmorereluctant.Hekeepsstill, knowing that any twitch might betray his true feelings. The lack ofmovementisjustasdamning.âIâllseewhatIcancomeupwith,âhefinallyforcesout.ThatseemstobeenoughfortheColonel.HeduckshischininanodbeforeturninghisattentiontoMareâsbrothers.
âBestletyourfamilyknow,âhesays,puttingonashowofbeinggentle.âAndKilorn.â
I shift, uncomfortable watching them digest the painful news of their
sisterandaccept theburdenofcarrying it to the restof their family.Breeâswords stick, but Tramy has strength enough to speak for his older brother.âYes, sir,â he replies. âThough I donât know where Warren gets to thesedays.â
âTrythenewbloodbarracks,âIoffer.âHeâstheremoreoftenthannot.â
Indeed,KilornspendsmostofhistimewithAda.AfterKethadied,Adatookonthearduoustaskofteachinghimtoreadandwrite.ThoughIsuspecthe stickswith us because he has no one else. The Barrows are the closestthing he has to family, and they are a family of ghosts now, haunted bymemories.Iâveneverevenseenherparents.Theykeeptothemselves,deepinthetunnels.
WetakeourleaveoftheColoneltogether,fourofustroopingoutofthecontrol room in awkward, stilted single file. Bree and Tramy peel awayquickly,stompingtheirwaytowardtheirfamilyâsquartersontheothersideofthebase.Idonotenvythem.IrememberhowmymotherscreamedwhenmybrotherandIweretakenaway.Iwonderwhathurtsmoreâtohearnothingofyour children, knowing they are in danger, or to be fed news of their painpiecebypiece.
Not that Iâll ever find out. There is no place for children, especiallychildrenofmine,inthisstupid,ruinedworld.
I give Cal space, but quickly think better of it.Weâre nearly the sameheight,andcatchinguptohisharriedstrideisnoproblem.
âIfyourheartâsnotinthis,youâregoingtogetalotofpeoplekilled.â
Hewhirls,almostknockingmeonmyasswiththespeedandforceofhismovement. Ihaveseenhisfirefirsthand,butneversostronglyas theflameblazinginhiseyes.
âCameron,my heart is quite literally in this,â he hisses through grittedteeth.
Swooningwords.Aromanticdeclaration.Icanbarelystopmyeyesfromrolling.
âSaveitforwhenwegetherback,âIgrumble.When,notif.HenearlysetthecontrolroomonfirewhentheColoneldeniedhisrequesttoexplorewaysto get messages to Mare within the palace. I donât need him melting thehallwayoverapoorchoiceofwords.
Hestartswalkingagain,hispacedoubled,butIâmnotaseasilyleftbehind
asthelightninggirl.
âIjustmeantosaythattheColonelhasstrategistsofhisownâŠpeopleatCommandâŠScarletGuardofficerswhodonâthaveââIsearchforthepropertermââconflictingallegiances.â
Cal huffs loudly, his broad shoulders rising and falling. Clearly anyetiquettelessonshemayhavehadtookabackseattomilitarytraining.
âShowmeanofficerwhoknowsasmuchasIdoaboutSilverprotocolsandtheCorviumdefensesystemandIâllgladlystepbackfromthismess.â
âIâmsurethereâssomeone,Calore.â
âWhoâs foughtwithnewbloods?Knowsyourabilities?Knowshowbesttouseyouinafight?â
Ibristleathis tone. ââUse,ââ I spit.Use indeed. I remember thoseofuswhodidnâtsurviveCorros.NewbloodsrecruitedbyMareBarrow,newbloodsshepromisedtoprotect.Instead,MareandCalthrewusintoabattlewewerenotpreparedfor,anditbecameclearMarecouldnâtevenprotectherself.Nix,Gareth,Ketha,andothersfromtheprisonIdidnâtevenknow.Dozensdead,discardedlikepiecesonagameboard.
ThatâshowitâsalwaysworkedwiththeSilvermasters,andthatâshowCalwastaughttofight.Winatallcosts.PayforeveryinchinRedblood.
âYouknowwhatImean.â
Isnort.âMaybethatâswhyIâmnotexactlyconfident.â
Harsh,Cameron.
âListen,âIcontinue,switchingtactics.âIknowIâdburneveryonehereifitmeantgettingmybrotherback.Andluckily,thatâsnotadecisionIhavetomake.Butyouâyouactuallyhavethatoption.Iwanttomakesureyoudonâttakeit.â
Itâs true. Weâre here for the same reason. Not blind obedience to theScarletGuard,butbecausetheyareouronlyhopeofsavingtheonesweloveandlost.
Calquirks a crooked smile, the sameone Iâve seenMaremoonover. Itmakeshim look likemoreofa fool.âDonât try tosweet-talkme,Cameron.IâmdoingeverythingIcantokeepusoutofanothermassacre.Everything.âHisexpression turnsharsh.âYou think itâs justSilverswhocareonlyaboutvictory?â he mutters. âIâve seen the Colonelâs reports. Iâve seencorrespondence with Command. Iâve heard things. Youâre embedded with
peoplewho think exactly the sameway. Theyâll burn all of us to getwhattheywant.â
Maybetrue,Ithink,butatleastwhattheywantisjustice.
I think of Farley, theColonel, the oathed soldiers of the ScarletGuard,and the Red refugees they protect. Iâve seen them ferry people across theborderwithmyowneyes.IsatononeoftheirairjetsasitscreamedtowardtheChoke,intentonrescuingalegionofchildsoldiers.Theyhaveobjectiveswithhighcosts,buttheyarenotSilver.Theykill,butnotwithoutreason.
TheScarletGuardarenotpeaceful,butpeacehasnoplaceinthisconflict.NomatterwhatCalmight thinkof theirmethodsandtheirsecrecy, theirs istheonlywayanyonecanhopetofightSilversandwin.Calâspeoplebroughtthisuponthemselves.
âIf youâre soworried about Corvium, donât go,â he sayswith a forcedshrug.
âAndmissthechancetopaintmyhandsinSilverblood?âIsnapathim.IdonâtknowifIâmmakingapoorattempttojokeorthreateninghimoutright.My patience has worn through yet again. I already had to deal with thewhiningofawalkinglightningrod.Iâmnotgoingtotoleratetheattitudeofamopeymatchstickprince.
Again his eyes blazewith anger and heat. I wonder if Iâm fast enoughwithmyabilitytoincapacitatehim.Whatafightthatwouldbe.Fireagainstsilence.WouldheburnorwouldI?
âFunny thing, you telling me not to be careless with human life. Irememberyoudoingeverythingyoucouldtokillbackintheprison.â
AprisonwhereIwaskept.Starved,neglected,forcedtowatchthepeoplearoundmewitheranddiebecausetheywerebornâŠwrong.AndevenbeforeI enteredCorros, Iwas a prisoner of another jail. I am a daughter ofNewTown, conscripted to adifferent army since theday Iwasborn,doomed tolive my life in shadow and ash, at the mercy of the shift whistle and thefactory schedule.Of course I tried to kill the oneswho heldme captive. Iwoulddoitagainifgiventhechoice.
âProudofit,âItellhim,settingmyjaw.
He despairs of me. That much is clear. Good. Thereâs no amount ofspeechmakingthatwilleverswaymetohisthinking.Idoubtanyoneelsewilllistenmucheither.CalisaprinceofNorta.Exiled,yes,butdifferentfromusin everyway.His ability is to beused asmuch asmine, but he is a barely
toleratedweapon.Hiswordscanonlytravelsofar.Andeventhentheyfallondeafears.Mineespecially.
Withoutwarning, he sets off down a smaller passage, one of themanyburrowingthroughthewarrenofIrabelle.Itbranchesofffromthewiderhall,anglingupwardtothesurfaceinagentleslope.Ilethimgo,puzzled.Thereâsnothinginthatdirection.Justemptypassages,abandoned,unused.
Yet something tugs. Iâve heard things, he said. Suspicion flares in mychestashewalksaway,hisbroadformgettingsmallerbythesecond.
Foramoment,Ihesitate.Calisnotmyfriend.Weârebarelyonthesameside.
Butheisnothingifnotannoyinglynoble.Hewonâthurtme.
SoIfollow.
Thecorridorisobviouslyunused,clutteredwithscrapsanddarkinplaceswhere the lightbulbs are burned out. Even from a distance, Calâs presencewarms the close air with every passing second. Itâs actually a comfortabletemperature, and I make a mental note to speak with a few other escapedtechies.Maybewecanfigureoutawaytowarmupthelowerpassagesusingpressurizedair.
My eyes trail the cabled wires along the ceiling, counting them.Moretherethanthereshouldbe,tofeedafewlightbulbs.
Ihangback,watchingasCalshoulderssomewoodpalletsandscrapmetalfromawall.Herevealsadoorbeneath,withthecablesrunningoverheadandintowhateverroomithides.Whenhedisappears,pullingthedoorshutbehindhim,Idaretogetalittlecloser.
Thetangleofcablescomesintosharperfocus.Radioarray.NowIseeit,clearas thenoseonmybleedingface.The telltalebraidofblackwires thatmeans the room inside has the ability to communicate beyond thewalls ofIrabelle.
Butwhocouldhepossiblybecommunicatingwith?
MyfirstinstinctistotellFarleyorKilorn.
But then⊠if Cal thinks thatwhatever heâs doingwill keepme and athousandothersfromasuicideattackonCorvium,Ishouldlethimcontinue.
AndhopeIdonâtregretit.
FIVEMare
Idriftonadarksea,andshadowsdriftwithme.
Theycouldbememories.Theycouldbedreams.Familiarbutstrange,andsomething wrong with each. Calâs eyes are shot with silver, bleeding hot,smokingblood.Mybrotherâs face looksmoreskeleton than flesh.Dadgetsout of hiswheelchair, but his new legs are spindle thin, knobbled, ready tosplinterwitheveryshakingstep.Gisahasmetalpins inbothhands,andhermouth is sewn shut.Kilorn drowns in the river, tangled in his perfect nets.Red rags spill from Farleyâs slit throat. Cameron claws at her own neck,struggling to speak, trapped in a silence of her own making. Metal scalesshudder overEvangelineâs skin, swallowingherwhole.AndMaven slumpsonhisoddthrone,lettingittightenandconsumehimuntilheisstonehimself,aseatedstatuewithsapphireeyesanddiamondtears.
Purple eats at the edge of my vision. I try to turn in to its embrace,knowing what it holds. My lightning is so close. If only I could find thememory of it and taste one last drop of power before plunging back intodarkness.Butitfadesliketherest,ebbingaway.Iexpecttofeelcoldas thedarknesspressesin.Instead,heatrises.
Mavenissuddenlytooclosetobear.Blueeyes,blackhair,paleasadeadman.Hishandhovers inches frommycheek. It trembles,wanting to touch,wantingtopullaway.IdonâtknowwhichIwouldprefer.
IthinkIsleep.Darknessandlighttradeplaces,stretchingbackandforth.Itrytomove,butmylimbsaretooheavy.Theworkofmanaclesorguardsorboth.Theyweighmedownworsethanbefore,andtheterriblevisionsaretheonlyescape.IchasewhatmattersmostâShade,Gisa,therestofmyfamily,Cal, Kilorn, lightning. But they always dance out of my grip or flicker tonothing when I reach them. Another torture, I supposeâSamsonâs way ofrunningmeraggedevenasIsleep.Mavenistheretoo,butInevergotohim,andhenevermoves.Alwayssitting,alwaysstaring,onehandonhistemple,massaginganache.Ineverseehimblink.
Yearsorsecondspass.Thepressuredulls.Mymindsharpens.Whateverfogheldmecaptiverecedes,burningoff.Iamallowedtowakeup.
I feel thirsty, bled dry by bitter tears I do not remember shedding. Thecrushing weight of silence hangs heavy as always. For a moment itâs toodifficulttobreathe,andIwonderifthisishowIdie.Drownedinthisbedofsilk,burnedbyakingâsobsession,smotheredbyopenair.
Iâmbackinmyprisonbedchamber.MaybeIâvebeenheretheentiretime.Thewhitelightstreamingfromthewindowstellsmeithassnowedagain,andthe world outside is bright winter.Whenmy sight adjusts to it, letting theroom come into clearer focus, I risk looking around. Flashingmy eyes leftandright,notmovingmorethanIhaveto.Notthatitmatters.
TheArvensstandguardat the fourcornersofmybed,eachonestaringdown.Kitten,Clover,Trio,andEgg.TheyexchangeglanceswithoneanotherasIblinkupatthem.
SamsonisnowhereIcansee,thoughIexpecthimtoloomovermewithamalicious smile and a snappy welcome. Instead, a small woman in plainclothes,withflawlessblue-blackskinlikeapolishedgem,standsatthefootofmybed. I donât knowher face, but thereâs something familiar about herfeatures.Then I realizewhat I thoughtweremanacleswere actually hands.Hers.Eachonetightaroundanankle,soothingagainstmyskinandthebonesbeneath.
I recognize her colors. Red and silver crossed on her shoulders,representingbothkindsofblood.Healer.Skinhealer.SheâsofHouseSkonos.The sensation I feel from her touch is healingmeâor at least keepingmealiveagainst theonslaughtof fourpillarsofsilence.Theirpressuremustbeenoughtokillme,ifnotforahealer.Adelicatebalancetobesure.Shemustbeverytalented.ShehasthesameeyesasSara.Bright,darkgray,expressive.
But she isnât looking atme.Her eyes, instead, are on something tomyright.
IflinchwhenIfollowhergaze.
MavensitsasIdreamedhim.Still,focused,onehandonhistemple.Theotherhandwavesinsilentorder.
And then there reallyaremanacles.Theguardsmovequickly, fasteningstrangebraidedmetalstuddedwithsmoothlypolishedorbsaroundmyanklesandwrists. They lock each onewith a single key. I try to follow the keyâspath,butinmydaze,itflickersinandoutoffocus.Onlythemanaclesstandout.Theyfeelheavyandcold. Iexpectonemore,anewcollar tomarkmyneck,butmyneckisleftblissfullybare.Thejeweledthornsdonâtcomeback.
Tomyeternalsurprise, thehealerandtheguards taketheir leaveofme,walking from the room. I watch them go in confusion, trying to hide thesuddenleapofexcitementsendingmypulseintooverdrive.Iseveryonereallythisstupid?WilltheyleavemealonewithMaven?DoeshethinkIwonâttrytokillhiminaheartbeat?
Iturntohim,tryingtogetoutofbed,tryingtomove.Butanythingfasterthan sitting up feels impossible, as if my very blood has turned to lead. Iquicklyunderstandwhy.
âIâmquiteawareofwhatyouâdliketodotome,âhesays,hisvoicebarelyawhisper.
My fists clench, fingers twitching. I reach forwhat stillwonât respond.Whatcanâtrespond.âMoreSilentStone,âImumble,sayingthewordslikeacurse.Thepolishedorbsofmywearableprisongleam.âYoumustberunninglowbynow.â
âThankyouforyourconcern,butthesupplyiswellinorder.â
AsIdidinthecellsbeneaththeBowlofBones,Ispitinhisdirection.Itlandsharmlesslyathisfeet.Hedoesnâtseemtomind.Infact,hesmiles.
âGet it out of your system now. The courtwill not take kindly to suchbehavior.â
âAsifIâCourt?âThelastwordsputtersout.
Hissmilespreads.âIdidnotmisspeak.â
Myinsidescringeatthesightofhisgrin.âLovely,âIsay.âYouâretiredofkeepingmecagedupwhereyoucanâtseeme.â
âActually,Ifinditdifficultbeingthisclosetoyou.âHiseyesflickerovermewithanemotionIdonâtwanttoplace.
âThefeelingismutual,âIsnarl,ifonlytokillthestrangesoftnessinhim.Iwouldratherfacehisfire,hisrage,thananyquietword.
Hedoesnâtrisetothebait.âIdoubtthat.â
âWhereâsmyleash,then?DoIgetanewone?â
âNo leash,nocollar.âHeangleshischinatmymanacles. âNothingbutthosenow.â
What heâs getting at, I cannot begin to fathom. But Iâve long stoppedtryingtounderstandMavenCaloreandthetwistsofhislabyrinthinebrain.SoIlethimkeeptalking.HealwaystellsmewhatIneed,intheend.
âYourinterrogationwasveryfruitful.Somuchtolearnaboutyou,abouttheterroristscallingthemselvestheScarletGuard.âMybreathcatchesinmythroat.What did they find?What did I miss? I try to remember the mostimportant pieces of my knowledge, to figure out which will be the mostharmfultomyfriends.Tuck,theMontforttwins,thenewbloodabilities?
âCruelpeople,arenâtthey?âhecontinues.âBentondestroyingeverythingandeveryonewhoisnotlikethem.â
âWhatareyoutalkingabout?âTheColonellockedmeup,yes,andfearsmestill,butwearealliesnow.WhatcouldthatmeantoMaven?
âNewbloods,ofcourse.â
Istilldonâtunderstand.ThereâsnoreasonforhimtocareaboutRedswithabilitiesbeyondwhathemustdotogetridofus.Firsthedeniedweexisted,calling me a trick. Now we are freaks, threats. Things to be feared anderadicated.
âItâssuchashame,toknowyouweretreatedsobadlyyoufelttheneedtorun from that old man calling himself a colonel.â Maven enjoys this,explaininghisplaninslivers,waitingformetopieceittogether.Myheadisstill foggy,my bodyweak, and I trymybest to figure outwhat hemeans.âWorse still, that he debated shipping you off to themountains, discardingyoualllikegarbage.âMontfort.Butthatwasnâtwhathappened.Thatwasnâtwhat was offered to us. âAnd of course I was very upset to learn the trueintentionsoftheScarletGuard.TomakeaRedworld,aReddawn,withroomfornothingelse.Nooneelse.â
âMaven.âThewordquiverswithalltherageIhavestrengthtocall.Ifnotformymanacles,Iwouldexplode.âYoucanâtââ
âCanâtwhat?Tell the truth?Tellmycountry theScarletGuard is luringnewbloodstoitssideonlytokillthem?Tomakeagenocideofthemâofyouâas well as us? That the infamous rebel Mare Barrow came back to mewillingly,andthatthiswasdiscoveredduringaninterrogationwherethetruthisimpossibletohide?âHeleansforward,wellwithinstrikingdistance.ButheknowsIcanbarelyliftafinger.âThatyouareonoursidenow,becauseyouhaveseenwhattheScarletGuardtrulyis?Becauseyouandyournewbloodsarefearedasweare,blessedasweare,Silverasweare,ineverythingbutthecolorofblood?â
Myjawworks,openingandclosingmymouth.ButIcanâtfindthewordstomatchmyhorror.All this donewithoutQueenElaraâswhispers.All thiswithherdeadandcold.
âYouâreamonsterâisallIcansay.Amonster,allonhisown.
Hedrawsback,stillsmiling.âNevertellmewhatIcannotdo.AndneverunderestimatewhatIwilldoâformykingdom.â
His hand falls on my wrist, drawing one finger down the manacle ofSilentStonekeepingmeprisoner.Itrembleoutoffear,butsodoeshe.
With his eyes on my hand, Iâm given time to study him. His casualclothes,blackasalways,arerumpled,andhedoesnotstandonceremony.Nocrown,nobadges.Anevilboy,butaboystill.
OneImustfigureouthowtofight.Buthow?Iâmweak,mylightningisgone, and anything I might say will be twisted beyond my control. I canbarelywalk,letaloneescapeunaided.Rescueisallbutimpossible,ahopelessdreamthatIcanâtwasteanymoretimeon.Iâmstuckhere,trappedbyalethal,conniving king. He dogged me over months, haunting me from afar ineverythingfrombroadcaststohisdeadlynotes.
Imissyou.Untilwemeetagain.
Hesaidhewasamanofhisword.Perhaps,inthisalone,heis.
Withadeepbreath, Ipokeat theonlyweakness Isuspecthemightstillhave.
âWereyouhere?â
Blueeyessnaptomine.Itâshisturntolookconfused.
âThrough this.â I glance at the bed, and then far away. Itâs painful torememberSamsonâstorture,andIhopeitshows.âIdreamedyouwerehere.â
Thewarmth of him recedes, drawing back to leave the room coldwithoncoming winter. His eyelids flutter, dark lashes against white skin. For asecond,IremembertheMavenIthoughthewas.Iseehimagain,adreamoraghost.
âEverysecond,âheanswers.
Whenagrayflushspreadsacrosshischeeks,Iknowitâsthetruth.
AndnowIknowhowtohurthim.
Themanaclesmakeittooeasytofallasleep,somerelypretendingtodosoisdifficult.Beneaththeblanket,Iclenchafist,diggingmynailsintomypalm.Icounttheseconds.IcountMavenâsbreaths.Finally,hischaircreaks.Hestands.Hehesitates.Icanalmostfeelhiseyes,theirtouchburningagainstmy still face. And then he goes, footsteps light against the wood floor,
sweeping throughmybedroomwith the grace and quiet of a cat.The doorshutssoftlybehindhim.
Soeasytosleep.
Iwaitinstead.
Twominutespass,buttheArvenguardsdonâtreturn.
Isupposetheythinkthemanaclesareenoughtokeepmehere.
Theyarewrong.
My legswobblewhen theyhit the floor, bare feet against coldwood inparquetdesigns.Iftherearecameraswatching,Idonâtcare.Theycanâtstopmefromwalking.Ortryingtowalk.
I donât like doing things slowly. Especially now, when every momentcounts.EverysecondcouldmeananotherpersonIlovedead.SoIshoveoffthebed,forcingmyself tostandonweak, tremblinglegs.Anoddsensation,withSilentStoneweighingdownmywristsandankles, leachingwhat littlestrengthmyanger givesme. It takes a longmoment to bear thepressure. IdoubtIâllevergetusedtoit.ButIcangetpastit.
The first step is the easiest.A lunge to the little tablewhere I takemymeals. The second is more difficult, now that I know how much effort ittakes. I walk like a man drunk or hobbled. For a split second, I envymyfatherâswheelchair.Theshameofsuch thoughtsfuelsmynextsteps,acrossthe length of the room. Panting, I reach the other side, almost collapsingagainstthewall.Theburninmylegsispurefire,sendingaprickleofsweatdownmyspine.Afamiliarfeeling,likeIâvejustrunamile.Thenauseainthepit ofmy stomach is different, though.Another side effect of the Stone. Itmakes every beat ofmy heart feel heavier, andwrong somehow. It tries toemptymeout.
Myforeheadtouchesthepaneledwall,lettingthecoldsoothe.âAgain,âIforceout.
Iturnandstumbleacrosstheroom.
Again.
Again.
Again.
By the timeKittenandTriodelivermy lunch, Iâmdrenchedwith sweatand Ihave toeat lyingon the floor.Kittendoesnât seem tocare, toeing the
plateofevenlybalancedmeatandvegetables towardme.Whateverâsgoingonoutsidethecitywalls,itdoesnâtseemtohaveanyeffectonfoodsupply.Abadsign.Trioleavessomethingelseonmybed,butIfocusoneatingfirst.Iforcedowneverysinglebite.
Gettingupisabiteasier.Mymusclesarealreadyresponding,adjustingtothemanacles.Thereâsasmallblessinginthem.TheArvensarelivingSilvers,theirabilityfluctuatingwiththeirownconcentration,aschangingascrashingwaves.TheirsilenceismuchhardertoadapttothantheconstantpressoftheStone.
Iripopentheparcelonmybed,discardingthethick,luxuriouswrapping.Thegownslithersout,fallingagainstmyblankets.Itakeastepbackslowly,my body going cold as Iâm seized by the familiar urge to jump out thewindow.ForasecondIshutmyeyes,tryingtowillthedressaway.
Notbecause itâsugly.Thedress is shockinglybeautiful, agleamof silkandjewels.Butitforcesmetorealizeaterribletruth.Beforethedress,Iwasable to ignoreMavenâswords, his plan, andwhat hemeans to do. Now itstaresme in the face, amocking piece of artistry.The fabric is red.As thedawn,mymindwhispers.Butthat iswrongtoo.ThisisnotthecoloroftheScarletGuard.Ours is a lurid, bright, angry red, something to be seen andrecognized, almost shocking to the eye. This gown is different.Worked indarker shades, crimsonand scarlet, beadedwithchipsofgemstones,wovenwith intricateembroidery. Itshimmers in thedarkestway,catchingthe lightoverheadlikeapoolofredoil.
Likeapoolofredblood.
ThedresswillmakemeâandwhatIamâimpossibletoforget.
I laugh bitterly to myself. Itâs almost funny. My days as Mavenâsbetrothedwere spent hiding, pretending to be Silver. At least now I wonâthavetobepaintedintooneofthem.Avery,verysmallmercyinthelightofallelse.
So,Iamgoingbeforehiscourt,andtheworld,thecolorofmybloodbareforalltosee.IwonderifthekingdomwillrealizeIamnothingmorethanalurehidingasteel-sharphook.
Hedoesnâtcomebackuntil thenextmorning.Whenheenters,hefrownsatthedress,balledupinthecorner.Icouldnâtstandtolookatit.Icanâtreallylookathimeither,soIkeepatmyexercises:currentlyaverystunted,slowversionof sit-ups. I feel likeaclumsy toddler,myarmsheavier thanusual,butIforcethroughit.Hetakesafewstepscloser,andIclenchafist,willing
myself to send a spark in his direction. Nothing happens, just as nothinghappenedthelastdozentimesItriedtousemyelectricity.
âGoodtoknowtheygotthebalanceright,âhemuses,settlingintohisseatat the table.Todayhelookspolished,withhisbadgesbrightandshiningonhis chest.Hemustâve come fromoutside.Thereâs snow in his hair, and heremoveshisleathergloveswithhisteeth.
âOhyes, thesebraceletsare just lovely,â Ibitebackathim,wavingoneheavyhandinhisdirection.Themanaclesarelooseenoughtospin,buttightenough that I could never pull them off, even if I dislocated a thumb. Iconsideredit,untilIrealizeditwouldbepointless.
âIâllgiveEvangelineyourcompliments.â
âOfcourseshemadethem,âIscoff.Shemustbesopleasedtoknowsheistheliteralcreatorofmycage.âSurprisedshehasthetime,though.Shemustbe spendingevery secondmakingcrownsand tiaras towear.Dresses too. Ibetyoucutyourselfeverytimeyouhavetoholdherhand.â
A muscle in his cheek ticks. Maven has no feelings for Evangeline,somethingIâvealwaysknown.SomethingIcaneasilyexploit.
âHaveyousetadate?âIask,sittingup.
Blueeyesflashtomine.âWhat?â
âI doubt a royal wedding is something you can do on short notice. IassumeyouknowexactlywhenyouâremarryingSamos.â
âOh,that.âHeshrugs,brushingitoffwithawave.âPlanningtheweddingisherbusiness.â
Iholdhisgaze.âIf itwereherbusiness, sheâdhavebeenqueenmonthsago.âWhenhedoesnâtreply,Ipushharder.âYoudonâtwanttomarryher.â
Insteadofcrumbling,hisfacadestrengthens.Heevenchuckles,projectingan imageof abject disinterest. âThatâs notwhySilvers getmarried, aswellyouknow.â
I tryadifferent tactic,playingonthepiecesofhimIusedtoknow.ThepiecesIhopearestillreal.âWell,Idonâtblameyouforstallingââ
âItisnâtstallingtopostponeaweddinginwartime.â
âSheâsnotwhoyouwouldâvechosenââ
âAsifthereâschoiceinthematter.â
âNottomentionthefactthatshewasCalâsbeforeshewasyours.â
Thementionofhisbrotherstillshislazyprotesting.Icanalmostseethemusclestightenbeneathhisskin,andonehandflicksthebraceletathiswrist.Everygentletingofthemetalringsasloudasawarningbell.Onesparkfromitandhewillburn.
Butfiredoesnâtscaremeanymore.
âBasedonyourprogress,itshouldtakeanotherdayorsoforyoutolearnhow to walk properly with those.â His words are measured, forced,calculated.He probably rehearsed thembefore he came in here. âAnd thenyouâllfinallybeofsomeusetome.â
AsIdoeveryday,Iglancearoundtheroom,lookingforcameras.Istilldonâtseethem,buttheymustbethere.âDoyouspendalldayspyingonme,ordoesaSecurityofficergiveyouasummary?Somekindofwrittenreport?â
Mavenletstheremarkglanceoff.âTomorrowyouwillstandupandsayexactlywhatItellyouto.â
âOrwhat?âIforcemyselftomyfeetwithoutanyofthegraceoragilityIusedtoclaim.Hewatcheseveryinch.I lethim.âIâmalreadyyourprisoner.Youcankillmewheneveryoulike.Andquitefrankly,Iâdpreferthattoluringnewbloodsintoyournettodie.â
âIâmnotgoingtokillyou,Mare.âEventhoughheâsstillsitting,Ifeellikehetowersoverme.âAndIdonâtwanttokillthemeither.â
Iunderstandwhatthewordsmean,butnotwhentheycomefromMavenâsmouth.Itmakesnosense.Nosenseatall.âWhy?â
âYouâllneverfight forus, Iknowthat.ButyourkindâŠtheyârestrong,stronger thanmanySilverscouldeverbe. Imaginewhatwewilldowithanarmyofthem,combinedwithanarmyofmine.Whentheyhearyourvoice,theyâll come. How they are treated once they arrive depends on yourbehavior,ofcourse.Andyourcompliance.âFinally,hestands.Heâsgrowninthepastfewmonths.Tallerandleaner,takingafterhismother,ashedoesinmostthings.âSoIhavetwochoices,andyougettopickwhichoneIfollow.Eitheryoubringmenewbloods,andtheyjoinwithus,orIcontinuefindingthemonmyown,andkillingthem.â
My slap lands weakly, barely moving his jaw at all. My other handsmacksagainsthischest,justasinconsequential.Healmostrollshiseyesattheeffort.Hemightevenenjoyit.
Ifeelmyfaceturnbrightred,flushingbothinangerandhelplesssorrow.âHowcanyoubelikethis?âIcurse,wishingIcouldtearhimapart.Ifnotforthemanacles,mylightningwouldbeeverywhere.Instead,wordspouroutofme.WordsIcanbarelythinkaboutbeforetheyragefromme.âHowcanyoustill be like this?Sheâsdead. I killedher.You are free fromher.Youâyoushouldnâtbehersonanymore.â
His hand gripsmy chin hard, shockingme into silence. The force of itmakesmebend,leanbackward,almostlosebalance.IwishIwould.IwishIcouldfalloutofhishands,hitthefloor,andsplinterintoathousandpieces.
BackattheNotch,inthewarmthofthecotIsharedwithCal,deepinthenight,Ithoughtofmomentslikethis.BeingalonewithMavenagain.GettingthechancetoseewhathetrulywasbeneaththemaskIrememberedandthepersonhismotherforcedhimtobe.In thatstrangeplacebetweensleepandwaking, his eyes followed me. Always the same color, but somehowchanging.Hiseyes,hereyes,eyesIknewandeyesIcouldneverknow.Theylookthesamenow,burningwithacoldfire,threateningtoconsumeme.
Knowingitâswhathewantstosee,Iletthetearsoffrustrationoverwhelmmeandfall.Hetrackstheirpathswithhunger.
Thenheshovesmeaway.Istaggertoaknee.
âIamwhatshemademe,âhewhispers,leavingmebehind.
Before thedoorshutsbehindhim,Inoticeguardsoneitherside.CloverandEggthistime.SotheArvensarenotfaraway,evenifIsomehowmanagetofreemyself.
Isinkslowlytothefloorandsitbackonmyheels.Iputonehandovermyface, hiding the fact that my eyes are suddenly dry. As much as I wishedElaraâsdeathwouldchangehim, Iknewitwouldnot. Iâmnot that stupid. IcannottrustanythingwhereMavenisconcerned.
Thesmallestofhisceremonialbadgesbitesinmyotherhand,hiddenbymy curling fingers. Even Silent Stone cannot take away a thiefâs instincts.Thebadgeâsmetalpindigsintoskin.Iâmtemptedtolet itbreakthrough, tobleedcrimsonandscarlet,toremindmyselfandanyonewatchingwhatIam,andwhatIamcapableof.
Under theguiseofstraighteningup, Islip thebadgeundermymattress.Along with the rest of my plunder: hairpins, broken fork tines, shards ofshatteredglassandporcelainplates.Myarsenal,humbleasitis,willhavetodo.
Iglareat thedress in thecorner, as if thedress is somehowat fault forthis.
Tomorrow,hesaid.
Ireturntomysit-ups.
SIXMare
Thecardsarecarefullytyped,outliningwhatImustsay.Icanâtevenlookatthem,andleavethemlyingonmybedsidetable.
I very much doubt Iâll get the benefit of maids to make me up intowhateverMaven imagines presenting to the court. It looks like an arduoustask,buttoningandzippingmyselfintothescarletgown.Ithasahighcollar,trailing hem, and long sleeves to hide not just Mavenâs brand on mycollarbonebutthemanaclesstillattachedtomywristsandankles.
No matter how many times I escape this elegant pageantry, I seemdoomedtoplayaroleinit.ThedresswillbetoobigwhenIfinallygetiton,loose around the arms and waist. Iâm thinner here, nomatter howmuch Iforce myself to eat. Based on what I can glean from my reflection in thewindow,myhairandskinhavealsosufferedundertheweightofsilence.Myfaceisyellowedandsunken,sickly-looking,whileredrimsmyeyes.Andmydarkbrownhair, still tingedby theslowcreepofgrayat theends, is rattierthan ever, tangled to the root. I braid it back hastily, working the knottedstrands.
NoamountofsilkcanchangewhatIlooklikebeneathMavenâscostume.Butitâsnomatter.Iâllneverwearit,ifallgoestoplan.
Thenextstepinmypreparationmakesmyheartpound.Idomybest tolookcalm,forthecamerasinmybedroomat least.TheycannotknowwhatIâmabout todo,not if itâsgoingtowork.Andevenif Imanagetofoolmyguards,thereâsanotherratherlargeobstacle.
Thiscouldkillme.
Mavendidnotputcameras inmybathroom.Not toprotectmyprivacy,buttoplacatehisownjealousy.Iknowenoughofhimtorealizehewonâtletanotherpersonseemybody.TheaddedweightofSilentStone,theslabssetinto walls, is confirmation. Maven made sure guards would never have areasontoescortmeinhere.Myheartbeatssluggishlyinmychest,butIpushthroughit.Ihaveto.
Theshowerhissesandsteams,scaldinghotassoonasIturnitontofull
blast.IfnotforthebathroomStone,Iwouldhavespentmanydaysenjoyingthe singular comfort of a hot wash. I must work quickly, or let myself besmothered.
Backat theNotchwewere lucky tobathe incoldrivers,whileonTucktheshowersweretimedandlukewarm.Ilaughatthethoughtofwhatpassedfor bathing at home. A tub filled from the kitchen faucet, warm in thesummer,coldinthewinter,withstolensoaptocleanwith.Istilldonâtenvymymotherâsjobofhelpingmyfatherwash.
WithanyluckâlotsofluckâIâllseethemagainsoon.
Ipushtheshowerhead,anglingitawayfromthebasinandontothefloorof thebathroom.Thewaterpelts againstwhite tile, drenching it.The sprayhitsmybarefeet,andtheheatshiversmyskin,gentleandinvitingasawarmblanket.
Aswaterseepsoutbeneaththebathroomdoor,Iworkquickly.FirstIputthelongshardofglassonthecounter,wellwithinarmâslength.ThenIreachforthetrueweapon.
Whitefire Palace is a marvel in every inch, and my bathroom is noexception.Itâslitbyamodestchandelier, if thereissuchathing:workedinsilver,withcurlingarmsliketreebranchesgivingbudtoadozenlightbulbs.Ihavetostandonthesink,precariouslybalanced, togetat it.Afewforcefulbutfocusedtugspullthedanglingfixtureforward,itswiringpeelingthroughtheceiling.OnceIhaveenoughslack,Icrouch,thestill-litchandelierinhand.Ibraceitonthesinktowait.
Thepoundingstartsa fewminutes later.Whoever iswatchingmy roomhas noticed thewater spilling out from underneathmy bathroom door. Tensecondslater,twosetsoffeettroopintomybedroom.WhichArvens,Iâmnotsure,butitdoesnâtreallymatter.
âBarrow!â a manâs voice calls, accompanied by a fist knocking on thebathroomdoor.
TheywastenotimewhenIdonâtrespond,andneitherdoI.
Eggpushesthedoorin,hiswhitefacealmostblendingintothetiledwallsashestepsinside,sloshingthrough.Cloverdoesnotfollow,butstandswithonefootinthebathroom,theotherinmybedchamber.Itdoesnâtmatter.Bothherfeetareinthepuddleofsteamingwater.
âBarrowâŠ?âEggsays,slack-jawedatthesightofme.
Itdoesnâttakemuchtoletthechandelierdrop,buttheactionfeelsheavyallthesame.
Itsmashesagainstthewettile.Whentheelectricityhitsthewater,asurgepulsesthroughtheroom,shortingoutnotjusttheotherbathroomlights,butthelightsinmybedroom.Probablythisentirewingofthepalace.
Both Arvens jump and twitch as the sparks dance through their flesh.Theycrumplequickly,musclesseizing.
Ivaultoverthewaterandtheirbodies,almostgaspingastheweightofthebathroomâsSilentStonemeltsaway.Themanaclesstillweighonmylimbs,andIwastenotimesearchingtheArvens,carefultokeepoutofthewater.IturnouttheirpocketsasquicklyasIcan,searchingforthekeythathauntsmywakingmoments.Shaking, I feelacurlofmetalbeneathEggâscollar, lyingflush to his breastbone. With trembling hands, I yank it free and set tolooseningmymanaclesonebyone.Astheydropaway,thesilencelifts,bitbybit.Igaspdownair,tryingtoforcelightningintomyself.Itâscomingback.Itmust.
ButIstillfeelnumb.
Eggâsbodyisatmymercy,warmandalivebeneathmyhands.IcouldcuthisthroatandCloverâs,slicetheirjugularswithanyoneofthejaggedbitsofglassIkeepwellhidden.Ishoulddoit,Itellmyself.ButIâvealreadywastedtoomuchtime.Ileavethemliving.
Asexpected,theArvensaretrainedenoughintheirdutiestohavelockedmybedroomdoorbehindthem.Nomatter.Ahairpinisjustasgoodasakey.Ipopthelockinasecond.
Itâs been a few days since I stepped outsidemy prison, and then IwasleashedtoEvangeline,guardedonallsides.Nowthehallwayisempty.Deadlightbulbs march down the hall overhead, taunting in their emptiness. Myelectrical sense isweak, barely a spark across the darkness. It has to comeback.Thiswonâtworkifitdoesnâtcomeback.Ifightaswellofpanicâwhatifitâsgoneforgood?WhatifMaventookmylightningfromme?
I sprint as fast as I can, holding on to what I know of Whitefire.Evangeline tookmeleft, to theballroomsandthegreathallsand the throneroom.Thoseplaceswillbecrawlingwithguardsandofficers,nottomentionthenobilityofNorta,dangerousontheirown.SoIgoright.
Camerasfollow,ofcourse. Ispot themateverycorner. Iwonder if theyshorted out too, or if Iâm entertainment for a few officers. They might be
makingbetsonhowfarIget.Thedoomedendeavorofadoomedgirl.
A service stair takes me down a landing, and I almost knock over aservantinmyhaste.
Myheartleapsatthesightofhim.Aboy,myage,maybe,hisfacealreadyflushingasheholdsontohisteatray.Flushingred.
âItâsa trick!â Ishoutathim.âWhat theyâregoing tomakemedo, itâsatrick!â
At the top of the stairs, and the bottom, a pair of doors bang open insuccession.Corneredagain.AbadhabitIâvedeveloped.
âMareââtheboysays,mynametremblingonhislips.Ifrightenhim.
âFind away; tell the ScarletGuard. Tellwhoever you can. Itâs anotherlie!â
Someone seizes me around my middle, pulling me backward, up andaway.Ikeepmyfocusontheservingboy.Theuniformedofficersascendingfrom below shove him away, pressing him up against the wall withoutthought.Histrayclatterstothefloor,spillingtea.
âItâsallalie!âImanagetogetoutbeforeahandclampsovermymouth.
I try to spark, reaching for lightning that I still barely feel. Nothinghappens,soIbitedownhardenoughtotasteblood.
TheSecurityofficerdropshishand,swearing,whileanothercomesupinfrontofme,deftlygrabbingmykickinglegs.Ispitbloodinherface.
Whenshebackhandsme,theactionfullofdeadlygrace,Irecognizeher.
âGoodtoseeyou,Sonya,âIhiss.Itrytokickherinthestomach,butshedodgeswithboredom.
Please, I beg in my mind, as if the electricity can hear me. Nothingresponds,andIchokebackasob.Iâmtooweak.Itâsbeentoolong.
Sonyaisasilk,tooswiftandagiletobebotheredwiththeresistanceofaweakgirl.Iglanceatheruniform.Blackpipedwithsilver,withtheblueandredofHouseIralonhershoulders.Judgingbythebadgesonherchestandthepinsonhercollar, sheâsa rankingofficerofSecuritynow.âCongratulationsonthepromotion,âIgrowlinfrustration,lashingoutbecauseitâsallIcando.âDonewithTrainingsosoon?â
Shetightenshergriponmyfeet,herhandslikepincers.
âToobad you never finishedProtocol.â Still carryingmy legs, she rubsherfaceonhershoulder,tryingtowipeawaythesilverbloodonhercheek.âYoucouldusesomemanners.â
Itâs only been a few months since I last saw her. Standing with hergrandmotherAraandEvangeline,dressedinmourningblackfortheking.ShewasoneofmanywhowatchedmeintheBowlofBones,whowantedtoseemedie.Herhouseisfamedfortheirskillnotjustinbody,butinmind.Spiesall, trained to discover secrets. I doubt she believed Maven when he toldeveryoneIwasa trick,aScarletGuardcreationsent to infiltrate thepalace.AndIdoubtsheâllbelievewhatâsabouttohappen.
âIsawyourgrandmother,âItellher.Adaringcardtoplay.
Her flawlesscomposuredoesnotchange,but I feelhergriponmy legsweaken,ifonlyalittle.Thenshedipsherchin.Continue,sheâstryingtosay.
âInCorrosPrison.Starved,weakenedbySilentStone.âLikeIamnow.âIhelpedfreeher.â
Anothermightcallmealiar.ButSonyaremainsquiet,hereyesanywherebutme.Toanyoneelse,shelooksdisinterested.
âIdonâtknowhowlongshespentinthere,butsheputupmoreofafightthananyoneelse.âIrememberhernow,flashingacrossmymemories.Anoldwoman with the vicious strength of her namesake, the Panther. She evensavedmylife,pluckingarazor-sharpwheeloutoftheairbeforeitcouldtakemy head. âPtolemus got her in the end, though. Right before he killedmybrother.â
Her gaze falls to the floor, brow furrowed slightly. Every inch of hertightens.Fora second I think shemightcry,but the threatening tearsneverspill.âHow?âIbarelyhearher.
âThroughtheneck.Quickly.â
Hernextslapiswellaimed,butwithoutmuchstrengthbehindit.Ashow,likeeverythingelseinthishellishplace.
âKeep your filthy lies to yourself, Barrow,â she hisses, ending ourconversation.
Iendup inaheaponmybedroomfloor,bothcheeksstinging,with thecrushingweightoffourArvenguardswashingoverme.EggandCloverlookabit rumpled,buthealershavealreadyseen to their injuries,whatever theywere.PityIdidnâtkillthem.
âShockedtoseeme?âIdrawlatthem,chucklingatthehorrificjoke.
In response,Kitten forcesme into the scarlet gown,makingme strip infrontofthemall.Shetakeshertimeinthehumiliation.Thedresssmartsasitpullsacrossmybrand.MforMaven,Mformonster,Mformurder.
IcanstilltastetheSecurityofficerâsbloodwhenKittenshovesthespeechcardsintomychest.
ThefullstrengthoftheSilvercourthasbeensummonedtothethroneroom.TheHighHousespresstogetherintheirusualriot.Everycolorisanassault,afirework of gems and brocade. I join the chaos, adding blood red to thecollection.Thedoors to the throne roomseal shutbehindme,cagingme inwith the worst of them. The houses part to let me pass, forming a longcorridorfromtheentrancetothethrone.TheywhisperasIgo,notingeveryimperfectionandeveryrumor.Icatchsnippets.Ofcoursetheyallknowaboutmylittleadventurethismorning.TheArvenguards,twoinfront,twobehind,areconfirmationenoughofmycontinuedstatusasprisoner.
SoMavenâs newest lie is not for them this time. I try to puzzle out hismotives, the turnsofhis labyrinthinemanipulations.Hemusthaveweighedthecostsofwhattotellthemâanddecidedbringinghisclosestnoblesinonsuchadelicioussecretwasworththerisk.Theywonâtmindhisliesifheisnâtlyingtothem.
Asbefore,hesitsonhisthroneofgraystoneslabs,bothhandsclawedtothe armrests. Sentinels have his back, lining the wall behind him, whileEvangeline takes his left, standing proud. She glitters, a lethal star, with acape and slashed gown of intricate silver scales. Her brother, Ptolemus,matchesinanewsuitofarmor,closeasaguardianforbothhissisterandtheking.Another bitterly familiar face holdsMavenâs right.He does notweararmor.Hedoesnotneedarmor.Hismindisweaponandshieldenough.
SamsonMerandusgrinsatme,avisionindarkblueandwhitelace,colorsIhateaboveallothers.Evensilver.Iamabutcher,hewarnedmebeforemyinterrogation.Hewasnot lying. Iwill never fully recover from thewayhecarvedmeup:apigonahook,bleddry.
Maven notes my appearance, pleased with it. The same Skonos healerattemptedtodosomethingwithmyhair,pullingitbackintoaneattailwhileswipingabitofmakeupacrossmyfrazzledfeatures.Shedidnâttakelong,butIwishsheâd lingered.Her touchwascoolandsoothing, fixingupwhateverbruisesIearnedinmydoomedescape.
IfeelnofearasIapproach,walkingbeforetheeyesofdozensofSilvers.
There are far worse things to be afraid of. Like the cameras ahead, forexample.Theyarenât trainedonmeyet,but theywillbesoon. Icanhardlystomachthethought.
Maven stops us short with a single gesture, holding up his palm. TheArvensknowwhatitmeansandpeelaway, leavingmetowalkthelastfewyards bymyself. Thatâswhen the cameras switch on.To showmewalkingalone,unguarded,unleashed,afreeRedstandingwithSilvers.Theimagewillbebroadcasteverywhere,toeveryoneIlove,andanyoneIcouldeverhopetoprotect.This simpleactionmightbeenough todoomdozensofnewbloods,andstrikeaheavyblowagainsttheScarletGuard.
âComeforward,Mare.â
ThatisMavenâsvoice.NotMaven,butMaven.TheboyIthoughtIknew.Gentle,tender.Hekeepsthatvoicestoredaway,readytobedrawnandusedagainstmelikeasword.Itstrikesmetomycore,asheknowsitwill.Inspiteofmyself,Ifeelthefamiliarlongingforaboywhodoesnotexist.
Myfootstepsechoonthemarble.InProtocol,thelateLadyBlonostriedto teachme how to holdmy face at court. Her ideal expressionwas cold,emotionless,beyondunfeeling.Iamnoneofthosethings,andIfighttheurgetoslipbehindsuchamask.Instead,ItrytoschoolmyfeaturesintosomethingthatwillbothsatisfyMavenandsomehowletthecountryknowthisisnotmychoiceatall.Ahardlinetowalk.
Still grinning, Samson takes a step sideways, leaving space next to thethrone.Ishiverattheintention,butdoasImust.ItakeMavenâsrightside.
Whatapicturethismustbe.Evangelineinsilver,meinred,withthekinginblackbetween.
SEVENCameron
Theso-calledâlightningalertâechoesthroughthemainfloorofIrabelle,upanddownthescaffoldedlandings,backandforthbetweenpassages.Runnersgoout,seekingthoseofusdeemedimportantenoughtogetupdatesonMare.Usually Iâmnot apriority.Noonedragsmedown tobedebriefedwith therest of her club. The kids findme later on, at work, and handme a paperdetailing whatever snippets the Guard spies gathered on precious Barrowâscell time.Uselessstuff.Whatsheate,herguardrotation, thatkindof thing.Buttodaytherunner,alittlegirlwithslick,straightblackhairandrussetskin,tugsonmyarm.
âLightning alert, Miss Cole. Come with me,â she says, adamant andcloying.
Iwanttosnapthatmypriorityistogettheheatworkinginmybarracks,not findouthowmany timesMareused thebathroom today,buther sweetfacestopstheimpulse.Farleymustâvesentthecutestbleedingkidinthebase.Damnher.
âAllright,Iâllgo,âIhuff,tossingmytoolsbackintotheircase.Whenshetakesmy hand, Iâm reminded ofMorrey.Heâs shorter than I am, and backwhenwewerekidsworkingtheassemblyline,heusedtoholdmyhandwhenthenoisymachinesfrightenedhim.Butthislittlegirlshowsnosignsoffear.
She pulls me through curling passages, proud of herself for knowingwhichway to go. I frown at the red scrap tied around herwrist. Sheâs tooyoungtobeoathedtorebels,letalonelivingintheirtacticalheadquarters.Butthen, Iwassent toworkwhenIwasfive,sortingscrapfromthe junkpiles.Sheâstwicethatage.
Iopenmymouthtoaskwhatbroughtherhere,butthinkbetterofit.Herparents,obviously,eitherbytheirlifeâschoicesortheirlifeâsending.Iwonderwheretheymightbe.JustlikeIwonderaboutmine.
Passages4and5andSub7needwirestripping.BarracksAneedsheat.Irepeat the always-growing list of tasks to dull the sudden pain. My ownparents fade frommy thoughts as Ipushaway their faces.Daddydrivinga
transport truck, his hands sure as ever on the wheel.Mama in the factoryalongsideme,quickerthanIâlleverbe.Shewassickwhenweleft,herhairthinningwhileherdarkskinseemedtogray.Ialmostchokeonthememory.Bothofthemareoutofmyreach.ButMorreyisnât.MorreyIcangetto.
Passages4and5andSub7needwirestripping.BarracksAneedsheat.MorreyColeneedstobesaved.
We reach the passage to central control the same timeKilorn does.Hisown runner trails behind, sprinting to keep up with the lanky boy tearingaround the corner. Kilornmust have been topside, out in the frozen air ofoncomingwinter.Hischeeksbloomredfromthecold.Ashewalks,hepullsoffaknithat,upendinguneventawnylocks.
âCam.âHenodsatme,stoppingwhereourpathscross.Hevibrateswithfear,eyesvividlygreeninthefluorescentlightsofthepassage.âAnyideas?â
Ishrug.Iknowless thananyonewhereMareisconcerned.Idonâtevenknowwhy they bother to keep me in the loop. Probably to make me feelincluded.EveryoneknowsIdonâtwanttobehere,butIhavenowhereelsetogo.NotbacktoNewTown,nottotheChoke.Iâmstuck.
âNone,âIreply.
Kilorn glances back at his runner, offering a smile. âThanks,â he says,kindly dismissive. The kid takes a hint, turning away with relief. I do thesametomine,gesturingwithabobofmyheadandagratefulsmile.Shetakesoffintheotherdirection,disappearingaroundabend.
âStartingthemyoung,âIcanâthelpbutwhisperundermybreath.
âNotasyoungaswewere,âKilornreplies.
Ifrown.âTrue.â
Inthepastmonthorso,IâvelearnedenoughaboutKilorntoknowIcantrust him as much anyone down here. Our lives are similar. He startedapprenticingatayoungage,and,likeme,hehadtheluxuryofajobtokeephimfromconscription.Untiltheruleschangedonusboth,andweendeduppulledintothelightninggirlâsorbit.Kilornwouldarguethathispresencehereisbychoice,butIknowbetter.HewasMareâsbestfriend,andhefollowedher into the Scarlet Guard. Now blind stubbornnessânot to mention hisfugitivestatusâkeepshimhere.
âBut we werenât indoctrinated into something, Kilorn,â I continue,hesitating to take the next few steps. The control-room guards wait a few
yardsaway,silentintheirdutiesatthedoor.Theyârewatchingusboth.Idonâtlikethefeeling.
Kilorn offers a strange, sad twitch of a smile. His eyes lower to mytattooedneck,whereIampermanentlymarkedwithmyprofessionandplace.Theblackinkstandsout,evenagainstmydarkskin.âYes,wewere,Cam,âhesaysquietly.âComeon.â
He slips an arm around my shoulders, moving us both forward. Theguardsstandaside,lettinguspassthroughthedoor.
This time, thecontrol roomismorecrowded than Iâveeverseen.Everytechniciansitsinraptattention,theirfocusontheseveralscreensatthefrontoftheroom.Eachdisplaysthesamething:theBurningCrown,theemblemofNorta, its flames of red, black, and silver. Usually the symbol bookendsofficial broadcasts, and I assume Iâm about to be subjected to the latestmessagefromKingMavenâsregime.Iâmnottheonlyonetothinkso.
âWemight see her,âKilorn breathes, his voice tempered by equal partslongingandfear.On-screen,theimagejumpsalittle.Frozen,paused.âWhatarewewaitingfor?â
âMorelikewho,âIreply,castingalookabout theroom.AsfarasIcansee,Calisherealready,stoicallyfoldedatthebackoftheroom,keepinghisdistance from everyone. He feels mewatching, but doesnât domuchmorethannod.
Tomydismay,Kilornwaveshimover.Afterasecondofhesitation,Calcomplies,moving gently through the room as it crowds full. For whateverreason,thislightningalerthasdrawnmanytocontrol,allofthemasonedgeasKilorn.MostofthemIdonâtrecognize,butafewnewbloodsjointhemix.I spot Rash and Tahir at their usual position, seated with their radioequipment,whileNannyandAdastickclosetogether.LikeCal,theyoccupythe backwall, reluctant to draw any attention to themselves.As the princegetscloser,Redofficersallbutjumpoutofhisway.Hepretendstoignoreit.
Cal andKilorn tradeweak smiles.Their usual rivalry is long gone, butreplacedbytrepidation.
âWishtheColonelwouldmovehisassalittlefaster,âavoicesaysonmyright.
IturntoseeFarleysidleuptous,doingherbesttoremaininconspicuousdespiteherbelly.Itâsmostlyhiddenbyherlargejacket,butitâshardtokeepsecretsinaplacelikethis.Sheâsclosetofourmonthsanddoesnâtcarewho
knows.Evennow,shebalancesaplateoffriedpotatoesinonehand,aforkintheother.
âCameron,boys,âsheadds,noddingatusinturn.Idothesame,asdoesKilorn. She gives Cal amock salute with her fork, and he barely grunts aresponse.Hisjawclenchessotightlyhisteethmightshatter.
âThoughttheColonelsleptinhere,âIreply,fixingmygazeonthescreen.âTypical.Theonetimeweneedhimaround.â
Anyotherday,Iwouldwonderifhisabsencewasaploy.Maybetoletusknowwhoâsincharge.Asifanyofuscouldforget.EvennexttoCal,aSilverprinceandgeneral,orahostofnewbloodswithaterrifyingarrayofabilities,he somehow manages to hold all the cards. Because here, in the ScarletGuard, in thisworld, information ismore important thananything,andheâstheonlyonewhoknowsenoughtokeepcontrolofusall.
Icanrespectthat.Partsofamachinedonâtneedtoknowwhattheotherpiecesaredoing.ButIâmnotjustagear.Notanymore.
The Colonel enters, flanked by Mareâs brothers. Still no sign of herparents,who remain stowed away somewhere, alongsideher sisterwith thedarkredhair.I thoughtIsawheronce,asmart,quickthingdartingthroughthe mess hall, but I never got close enough to ask. Iâve heard rumors, ofcourse.Whispers from theother techniciansandsoldiers.ASecurityofficercrushed the girlâs foot, forcing Mare to beg at the summer palace. Orsomething like that. I have a feeling that asking Kilorn for the real storywouldbeinconsiderate.
Thecontrolcenter turns towatch for theColonel,eager forhim tostartwhateverweârehere tosee.Sowereact together,stiflinggaspsorsurprisedexpressionswhenanotherSilverfollowstheColonelintothealready-crowdedroom.
EverytimeIseehim,Iwanttohatehim.HewasthereasonMareforcedme to join her, forcedme to return tomy prison, forcedme to kill, forcedothers to die so this insignificant dry twig of a man could live. But thosechoiceswerenâthis.HewasaprisonerasmuchasIwas,doomedtothecellsofCorrosand theslow,crushingdeathofSilentStone. Itâsnothis fault thelightninggirlloveshim,andhemustbearthecursethatlovebringswithit.
JulianJacosdoesnotshrinkagainstthebackwallwiththenewbloods,andhedoesnâttakethespotnexttohisnephewCaleither.Instead,hekeepsclosetotheColonel,allowingthecrowdtopartsothathemightseethisbroadcastasbesthecan. I focusonhisshouldersashesettles intoplace.Hisposture
reeks of Silver decadence. Straight-backed, perfect. Even in the hand-me-downuniform,fadedbyuse,withgrayinhishairandthepallid,coldlookweall take on underground, thereâs no denying what he is. Others share mysentiments.Thesoldiersaroundhimtouchtheirholsteredguns,keepingoneeyeontheSilverman.Therumorsaremorepointedwhereisheconcerned.HeâsCalâs uncle, a dead queenâs brother,Mareâs old tutor.Woven into ourrankslikeathreadofsteelamongwool.Embedded,butdangerousandeasilypulledfree.
Theysayhecancontrolamanwithhisvoiceandhiseyes.Likethequeencould.Likemanystillcan.
OnemorepersonIwillnever,everturnmybackon.Itâsalonglist.
âLetâs see it,â the Colonel barks, cutting off the low murmur born ofJulianâspresence.Thescreensrespondinkind,jitteringintomotion.
Noonespeaks,andthesightofKingMavenâsfacecutsthroughusall.
Hebeckonsfromthathulkingthrone,deepintheheartoftheSilvercourt,eyeswideandinviting.Iknowheâsasnake,soIcanignorehiswell-chosendisguise.ButIimaginemostofthecountrycannotseethroughthemaskofayoungboycalledtogreatness,dutifullydoingwhathecanforakingdomontheedgeofchaos.Heâsgood-looking.NotbroadlikeCal,butfinelyshaped,asculpture of sweeping cheekbones and glossy black hair. Beautiful, nothandsome. I hear someone scratching notes, probably recording everythingon-screen.Allowingtherestofustowatchunfettered,focusedonlyonwhathorrorMavenisabouttoperform.
Heleansforward,onehandextended,ashestandstocallsomeonetohim.
âComeforward,Mare.â
Thecameras turn, revolvingsmoothly toshowMarestandingbefore theking. I expected rags, but instead shewears finery I could never dreamof.Everyinchofheriscoveredinbloodredgemstonesandembroideredsilk.Itall shimmers as shewalks down a grand aisle parting the crowd of Silversassembled forwhatever this is.Nomore collar, nomore leash.Again I seethrough themask.Again I hope thekingdomdoes tooâbuthowcan they?Theydonâtknowherlikewedo.Theydonâtseetheshadowsinherdarkeyes,flickering with every step. Her hollow cheeks. The purse of her lips. Thetwitchingfingers.Atighteningjaw.AndthatâsonlywhatInotice.WhoknowswhatCalorKilornorherbrotherscanseeinthelightninggirl?
The dress covers her from just below her neck to wrist and ankle.
Probablytohidebruises,scars,andthebrandshebearsfromtheking.Itâsnotadressatall,butacostume.
Iâmnottheonlyonetosuckinabreathoffearwhenshereachestheking.Hetakesherhandinhis,andshehesitatestocloseherfingers.Onlyafractionof a second, but enough to cement what we already know. This is not herchoice.Orifitis,thealternativewasmuch,muchworse.
A current of heat ripples on the air. Kilorn does his best to sidle awayfromCalwithoutdrawingattention,bumpingintome.ImakeroomasbestIcan.Noonewantstobetooclosetothefireprinceifthingsgosouth.
Mavendoesnothave togesture.Mareknowshimandhisschemeswellenoughtounderstandwhathewantsfromher.Thecameraimagepullsbackas she moves to the right of his throne.What we see now is a display ofultimatestrength.EvangelineSamos, thekingâsbetrothed,a futurequeen inpowerandappearance,ononeside,withthelightninggirlontheother.SilverandRed.
Othernobles, thegreatestof theHighHouses, stand inassemblyon thedais.Names and faces I donât know, but Iâm suremany here do.Generals,diplomats,warriors, advisers.Everyoneof themdedicated to our completeannihilation.
Thekingtakeshisthroneagain,slowly,eyeslockeddeepintothecamera,andsointous.
âBefore I say anything else, before I begin this speechââhe gestures,confident and almost charmingââI want to thank the fighting men andwomen,SilverandRed,whoservetoprotectourborders,whoarecurrentlydefendingusfromenemiesoutsidethisnation,andtheenemieswithin.TothesoldiersofCorvium, the loyalwarriorsresisting theconstantanddeplorableterroristattacksoftheScarletGuard,Isaluteyou,andIamwithyou.â
âLiar,âsomeonesnarlsintheroom,buttheyârequicklyhushed.
On-screen,Marelookslikeshesharesthesentiment.Shedoesherbestnottotwitchorletherfacebetrayheremotions.Itworks.Almost.Aflushcreepsup her neck, partially hidden by her high collar. Not high enough.Mavenwouldhavetoputabagoverherheadtohideherfeelings.
âInrecentdays,aftermuchdeliberationwithmycouncilandthecourtsofNorta,MareBarrow of the Stiltswas sentenced for her crimes against thiskingdom.Shestoodaccusedofmurderandterrorism,andwebelievedhertobetheworstoftheratsgnawingatourroots.âMavenglancesupather,face
stillandfocused.Howmanytimesheâspracticedthis,Idonâtwanttoknow.âHerpunishmentwastofacealifetimeinprison,afterfirstbeinginterrogatedbymyowncousinsofHouseMerandus.â
Atthekingâsbidding,amanindarkbluestepsforward.HecomeswithininchesofMare,closeenoughtobrushahandagainstwhateverpartofherhechose. She freezes in place, snapping every centimeter still to keep fromflinching.
âIamSamsonofHouseMerandus,andIperformed the interrogationofMareBarrow.â
Ahead ofme, Julian raises a hand to hismouth.The only indication ofhowaffectedheis.
âAsawhisper,myabilityallowsmetobypasstheusualliesandtwistsofspeechthatmostprisonersrelyon.SowhenMareBarrowtoldusthetruthoftheScarletGuardanditshorrors,IconfessIdidnotbelieveher.Itestifyhere,on record, that Iwaswrong todoubther.What I saw inhermemorieswaspainfulandchilling.â
Another roundofwhispers through the room,another roundofhushing.The tension is still palpable, though, aswell as the confusion.TheColonelstraightens,armscrossed.Iâmsuretheyâreallthinkingontheirsins,andwhatthisSamsonfoolcouldberattlingonabout.Ononeside,Farleytapsherforkagainst her lip, eyes narrowed.She curses under her breath, but I canât askwhy.
Mareliftsherchin,lookinglikeshemightvomitonthekingâsboots.Ibetshewantsto.
âI went to the Scarlet Guard willingly,â she says. âThey told me mybrotherhadbeenexecutedwhileservinginthelegions,foracrimehedidnotcommit.â Her voice cracks at the mention of Shade. Next to me, Farleyâsbreathquickensandherhandcurlsoverherstomach.âTheyaskedifIwantedvengeanceforhisdeath.Idid.SoIsworemyallegiancetotheircause,andIwasplacedasaservantinsidetheroyalresidenceattheHalloftheSun.
âI came to the palace as a Red spy, but even I did not know I wassomething else entirely. During the right of Queenstrial, I discovered Isomehow possessed electrical ability. After consultation, the late KingTiberiasandQueenElaradecidedtotakemein,toquietlystudywhatIwasand,hopefully,teachmewhatmyabilitycouldbecome.TheydisguisedmeasaSilvertoprotectme.TheyrightfullyknewthataRedwithanabilitywouldbe considered a freak at best, an abomination at worst, and they hid my
identitytokeepmesafefromtheprejudicesofbothRedandSilver.Mybloodstatuswasknowntoafew,Mavenincluded,aswellasCaâPrinceTiberias.
âButtheScarletGuarddiscoveredwhatIwas.Theythreatenedtoexposemepublicly,bothtoruinthecredibilityofthekingandtoputmeindanger.Iwasforcedtoservethemasaspy,tofollowtheirorders,andtofacilitatetheirinfiltrationofthekingâscourt.â
Thenextoutcryfromtheroomislouder,andnoteasilyputdown.
âThisissomeimpressivebullshit,âKilorngrowls.
âMyultimatemissionwastogainSilveralliesfortheScarletGuard.Iwasinstructed to target Prince Tiberias, a cunning warrior and the heir to thethroneofNorta.HewasâŠâShehesitates, her eyesboring intoours.Theyshiftbackandforth,searching.Outofthecornerofmyeye,IseeCallowerhishead.âHewaseasilyconvinced.OnceIfiguredouthowtoconvincehim,IalsoaidedtheScarletGuardintheirplansfortheSunShooting,whichleftelevendead,andthebombingoftheBridgeofArcheon.
âWhen Prince Tiberias killed his father, King Maven acted swiftly,makingtheonlychoicehethoughthecould,âhervoicewarbles.Nexttoher,Mavendoeshisbest to looksadat thementionofhismurderedfather.âHewasgrieving,andweweresentenced toexecution in thearena.Weescapedwith our lives only because of the ScarletGuard. They took us both to anislandstrongholdofftheNortancoast.
âIwasheldprisonerthere,aswerePrinceTiberiasand,Idiscovered,thebrother I thought Iâd lost. Likeme, he had an ability, and likeme, hewasfeared by the Scarlet Guard. They intended to kill us, the ones they callnewbloods.When I discovered that others likeme existed, and the ScarletGuardwashuntingthemdowntoexterminatethem,Imanagedtoescapewithmybrotherandafewothers.PrinceTiberiascamewithus.Iknownowthathe intended to build himself an army to challenge his brother.After a fewmonths, the Scarlet Guard caught up with us all, and they killed the fewabilitiedRedswewereabletofind.Mybrotherwasmurderedintheconflict,butIescapedalone.â
Foronce,theheatintheroomisnâtcomingfromCal.Everyoneboilswithrage.ThisisnâtMare.Thesearenâtherwords.ButstillIfeelangerasmuchasthe rest.Howcan she even let this out of hermouth? Iâd spit bloodbeforespeakingMavenâslies.Butwhatchoicedoesshehave?
âWithnowhereelsetogo,IturnedmyselfintoKingMavenandwhateverjustice he saw to give me.â Her resolve breaks piece by piece, until tears
coursedownhercheeks.Iâmashamedtosaytheyhelpherlittlespeechmorethananythingelse.âIstandherenowawillingprisoner.IamsorryforwhatIâvedone,butIamreadytodowhateverIcantostoptheScarletGuardandtheirterrifyinghopeforthefuture.Theystandfornoonebutthemselvesandthepeopletheycancontrol.Theykilleveryoneelse,everyonewhostandsintheirway.Everyonewhoisdifferent.â
Thelastwordsstick,refusingtocomeout.Onthethrone,Mavensitsstill,buthisthroatworksalittle.Emittinganoisethecameracannothear,urginghertofinishashedemands.
Mare Barrow raises her chin and glares forward. Her eyes seem blackwithrage.âWe,thenewbloods,arenotfitfortheirdawn.â
Shoutsandprotestseruptthroughtheroom,hurlingobscenitiesatMaven,attheMeranduswhisper,evenatthelightninggirlforspeakingthewords.
ââvilebeastofakingââ
ââwouldratherkillmyselfthansayââ
ââbarelyapuppetââ
ââtraitor,plainandsimpleââ
âânotherfirsttimesingingtheirsongââ
Kilorn is the first tobreak,bothhandscurling into fists.âYou thinkshewantedtodothis?âhesays,hisvoiceloudenoughtocarry,butnotharsh.Hisface reddenswith frustration,andCalputsahandonhisshoulder, standingwithhim.Itsilencesmorethanafew,particularlytheyoungerofficers.Theylookembarrassed,apologetic,even,shamedbythereprimandofaneighteen-year-oldboy.
âQuiet, all of you!â theColonel rumbles, shutting up the rest.He turnsoncetoglarewithhismismatchedeyes.âThebratisstillspeaking.â
âColonelâŠ,âCalgrowls.Histoneisathreatplainasday.
Inreply,theColonelpointson-screen.AtMaven,notMare.
ââŠofferrefugetoanyfleeingtheterroroftheScarletGuard.Andtothenewbloods among you, hiding from what seems to be little more thangenocide, my own doors are open. I have instructed the royal palaces ofArcheon,HarborBay,Delphie,andSummerton,aswellasthemilitaryfortsofNorta,toprotectyourkindfromslaughter.Youwillhavefood,shelter,and,ifyouwishit,trainingforyourabilities.Youaremysubjectstoprotect,andIwilldoitwitheveryresourceIhavetogive.MareBarrowisnotthefirstof
youtojoinus,andshewillnotbethelast.âHehasthesmugaudacitytolayahandonherarm.
So this is how barely more than a boy becomes a king. Heâs not onlyruthlessandremorseless,butjustplainbrilliant.Ifnotfortheragecurlinginme, Iwould be impressed.His ploywill cause problems for theGuard, ofcourse.Personally,Iâmmoreconcernedwiththenewbloodsstilloutthere.WewererecruitedtoMareandherrebellionwithlittlechoiceinthematter.Nowthereâsevenless.TheGuardortheKing.Bothseeusasweapons.Bothwillgetuskilled.Butonlyonewillkeepusinchains.
I glance overmy shoulder, seeking outAda.Her eyes are glued to thescreen, effortlessly memorizing every tick and inflection to be scrutinizedlater.Likeme,shefrowns,thinkingaboutthedeeperworrynomemberoftheScarletGuardhasyet.Whatwillhappentothepeoplelikeus?
âTotheScarletGuard,Isayonlythis,âMavenadds,standingupfromhisthrone. âYour dawn is littlemore than darkness, and itwill never take thiscountry.Wefighttothelast.Strengthandpower.â
Onthedais,andacrosstherestofthethroneroom,thechantechoesfromeverymouth.IncludingMareâs.âStrengthandpower.â
Theimageholdsforasecond,burningthesightintoeverybrain.RedandSilver,thelightninggirlandKingMaven,unitedagainstthegreateviltheyâvemadeusouttobe.IknowitisnâtMareâschoice,butitisherfault.Didnâtsherealizehewoulduseherifhedidnâtkillher?
She didnât think he would do it. Cal said that before, about herinterrogation. They are both weak where Maven is concerned, and thatweaknesscontinuestoplagueusall.
BackattheNotch,Maredidherbesttoschoolmeinmyability.IpracticeherewhenIcan,togetherwiththeothernewbloodslearningtheirlimits.CalandJulianJacosattempttohelp,butIandmanyothersareloathtotrusttheirtutelage.Besides,Iâvefoundsomeoneelsetohelpme.
I know my ability has grown in strength, if not control. I feel it now,proddingbeneathmyskin,ablissfulemptinesstostillthechaosaroundme.Itbegs,andIclenchafistagainstit,keepingthesilenceback.Icanâtturnmyangeronthepeopleinthisroom.Theyarenâttheenemy.
Whenthescreencutstoblack,signalingtheendoftheaddress,adozenvoicessoundatonce.Calâspalmslamsagainstthedeskinfrontofhim,andheturns,mutteringtohimself.
âIâveseenenough,â I thinkhesaysbeforehepusheshiswayoutof theroom.Stupid.Heknowshisownbrother.HecandissectMavenâswordsbetterthananyofus.
TheColonelknowsittoo.âGethimbackhere,âhesaysunderhisbreath,leaningintospeaktoJulian.TheSilvernods,movingsmoothlytoretrievehisnephew.Manystoptalkingtowatchhimgo.
âCaptain Farley, your thoughts?â the Colonel says, his sharp voicedrawingattentionbackwhereitbelongs.Hecrosseshisarmsandturnstofacehisdaughter.
Farleysnapstofocus,seeminglyunaffectedbythespeech.Sheswallowsa bite of potato. âThe natural response would be a broadcast of our own.RefutingMavenâsclaims,showingthecountrywhowesaved.â
Usingusaspropaganda.DoingexactlywhatMavenisdoingtoMare.Mystomachtightensatthethoughtofbeingshovedinfrontofacamera,forcedtosingthepraisesofthepeopleIbarelytolerateandcannotfullytrust.
Herfathernods.âIagreeââ
âButIdonâtthinkthatâstherightcourseofaction.â
TheColonelraisesthebrowofhisruinedeye.
She takes itasan invitation tocontinue.âItâll justbewords.Nothingofuseintheend,intheschemeofwhatâsgoingon.âHerfingerstapagainstherlips, and I can almost see thewheels turning inherhead. âI thinkwekeepMaventalking,whilewekeepondoing.AlreadyourinfiltrationofCorviumisplacing strainon theking.Seehowhe singledout the city? Itsmilitary?Heâsbolsteringmorale.Whydothatiftheydonâtneedit?â
At the back of the room, Julian returns, one hand on Calâs shoulder.Theyâreofthesameheight,thoughCallooksaboutfiftypoundsheavierthanhisuncle.CorrosPrisoncertainlytookasmuchofatollonJulianasitdidtherestofus.
âWehave a gooddeal of information regardingCorvium,âFarley adds.âAnditsimportancetoNortanmilitary,nottomentionSilvermorale,makesittheperfectplace.â
âForwhat?â Ihearmyself ask, surprisingeveryone in the room,myselfincluded.
Farley is good enough to address me directly. âThe first assault. TheScarletGuardâsofficialdeclarationofwaragainstthekingofNorta.â
A strangled sort of yelp erupts from Cal, not the kind anyone wouldexpectfromaprinceandsoldier.Hisfacepales,eyeswidewithwhatcanonlybefear.âCorviumisafortress.Acitybuiltwiththesolepurposeofsurvivingawar.ThereareathousandSilverofficersinthere,soldierstrainedtoââ
âTo organize. To fight Lakelanders. To stand behind a trench andmarkplacesonamap,âFarleyfiresback.âTellmeIâmwrong,Cal.Tellmeyourkindispreparedtofightinsideitsownwalls.â
The glare he levels at her would cut through anyone else, but Farleystandsfirm.Ifanything,shestrengthensinheropposition.
âItâssuicide,foryouandforanyoneinyourway,âhetellsher.Shelaughsat the blatant dodge, inciting him further. He controls himself well, a fireprince reluctant to burn. âIâm not part of this,â he snarls. âGood luckassaultingCorviumwithoutwhateverintelligenceyoucountedonfromme.â
FarleyâsemotionsarenotsohinderedbyaSilverability.The roomwillnot burn with her, no matter how red her face flushes. âThanks to ShadeBarrow,IalreadyhaveeverythingIneed!â
The name usually has a sobering effect. To remember Shade is torememberhowhedied,andwhatitdidtothepeopleheloved.ForMare, itturned her cold, empty, into the personwilling to trade herself to keep herfriendsandfamilyfromthesamefate.ForFarley,itleftheralone,singularinher pursuits, focused only on the Scarlet Guard and nothing else. I didnâtknoweitherofthemforverylongbeforeShadedied,butevenIlamentwhotheywere.Thelosschangedthemboth,andnotforthebetter.
She forces herself through the pain Shadeâs memory brings, if only toshoveCalâs nose in it. âBeforewe fakedhis execution,Shadewasour keyoperativeinCorvium.Heusedhisabilitytofeedusasmuchinformationashe couldgive.Donât think for one secondyou areour only card toplay inthis,âFarleysaysevenly.ThensheturnsbacktotheColonel.âIadviseafullassault, utilizing newbloods in conjunction with Red soldiers and ourinfiltratorsalreadyinsidethecity.â
Utilizingnewbloods.Thewordssting,stab,andburn,leavingabittertasteinmymouth.
Iguessitâsmyturntostormfromtheroom.
Calwatchesmego,mouthpressedintoagrim,firmline.
Youâre not the only one who can be dramatic, I think as I leave himbehind.
EIGHTMare
ImakeiteasyfortheArvenstoremovemefromthedais.EggandTriotakemy arms, leaving Kitten and Clover behind. My body goes numb as theyescortmeoutofsight.WhathaveIdone?Iwonder.Whatwillthisdo?
Somewheretheotherswatched.Cal,Kilorn,Farley,myfamily.Theysawthat.Theshamealmostmakesmevomitallovermywretched,magnificentgown.IfeelworsethanwhenIreadtheMeasuresofMavenâsfather,doomingsomanytoconscriptioninpaymentfortheScarletGuardâsaction.Butthen,everyoneknewtheMeasureswerenotmydoing.Iwasonlythemessenger.
TheArvenspushme forward.Notback theway Icame,butbehind thethrone,throughadoorway,toroomsIâveneverseen.
The first isclearlyanothercouncilchamber,witha long table topped inmarble,surroundedbymorethanadozenplushchairs.Oneseatisstonework,acoldconstructionofgray.ForMaven.Theroomisbrightlylit,floodedbythe setting sun on one side. The windows face west, away from the river,lookingover thepalacewallsand thegentlyslopinghills covered in snowyforest.
Last yearKilorn and I cut river ice for spare coins, risking frostbite infavorofhonestwork.That lastedaboutaweek,until I realizedcoppers forbreaking up ice thatwould only refreezewas a poor use of our time.Howstrange,toknowthatwasonlyayearago,andalifetimeaway.
âYourpardon,âasoftvoicesays,soundingfromtheonlyseatinshadow.IturntoitandwatchJonunfoldhimselffromhischair,abookinonehand.
Theseer.HisredeyesglowwithsomeinnerlightIcanâtname.Ithoughthewas an ally, a newbloodwith an ability as strange asmine.He ismorepowerfulthananeye,abletoseefartherintothefuturethananySilvercan.Now he stands beforeme as an enemy, having betrayed us toMaven. Hisstarefeelslikehotneedlesprickingskin.
He is the reason I ledmy friends to Corros Prison, and the reasonmybrotherisdead.Thesightofhimchasestheicynumbnessaway,replacingallthatemptinesswithlivid,electricheat.Iwantnothingmorethantobeathim
acrossthefacewithwhateverIcan.Isettleforsnarlingathim.
âGoodtoseeMavendoesnâtkeepallhispetsonaleash.â
Jon just blinks at me. âGood to see you are not so blind as you oncewere,âherepliesasIpasshim.
Whenwefirstmethim,Calwarnedus thatpeoplegomadpuzzlingoutriddlesof thefuture.Hewasabsolutelyright,andIwonât fall into that trapagain.Iturnaway,resistingtheurgetodissecthiscarefullychosenwords.
âIgnoremeallyouwant,MissBarrow. Iâmnotyourconcern,âheadds.âOnlyonepersonhereis.â
Iglanceovermyshoulder,mymusclesmovingbeforemybraincanreact.OfcourseJonspeaksbeforeIdo,stealingthewordsfrommythroat.
âNo,Mare,Idonâtmeanyourself.â
We leave him behind, continuing on to wherever I am being led. ThesilenceisatortureasmuchasJon,givingmenothingtofocusonexcepthiswords. He means Maven, I realize. And itâs not difficult to guess theimplication.Andthewarning.
Therearepiecesofme,smallpieces,still inlovewithafiction.Aghostinsidea livingboyIcannotbegin to fathom.TheghostwhosatbymybedwhileIdreamedinpain.TheghostwhokeptSamsonfrommymindaslongashecould,Iknow,delayinganinevitabletorture.
Theghostwholovesme,inwhatpoisonedwayhecan.
AndIfeelthatpoisonworkinginme.
AsIsuspect,theArvensdonâttakemebacktomyprisonofabedroom.Itrytomemorizeourpath,notingdoorsandpassagesbranchingoffthemanycouncilchambersandsalonsinthiswingofthepalace.Theroyalapartments,everyinchmoredecoratedthanthelast.ButIâmmoreinterestedinthecolorsdominating the rooms rather than the furniture itself.Red, black, and royalsilverâthatâs easy to understand. The colors of reigning House Calore.Thereâs navy aswell.The shade givesme a sick feeling inmy stomach. ItstandsforElara.Dead,butstillhere.
Wefinallystopinasmallbutwell-stockedlibrary.Sunsetanglesthroughthe heavy curtains, drawn against the light. Dust motes dance in the redbeams,ashaboveadyingfire.IfeellikeIaminsideaheart,surroundedbybloodyred.ThisisMavenâsstudy,Irealize.Ifighttheurgetotaketheleatherseatbehindalacquereddesk.Toclaimsomethingofhisasmyown.Itmight
makemefeelbetter,butonlyforamoment.
Instead,IobservewhatIcan,lookingaroundwithwide,absorbingeyes.Scarlettapestriesworkedwithblackandglintingsilverthreadhangbetweenportraits and photographs of Calore ancestors. House Merandus is not soevidenthere,representedonlybyaflagofblueandwhitehangingfromthevaultedceiling.Thecolorsofotherqueensare there too,somebright,somefaded,someforgotten.ExceptforthegoldenyellowofHouseJacos.It isnâtthereatall.
Coriane,Calâsmother,hasbeenerasedfromthisplace.
I search the pictures quickly, though I donât really know what Iâmsearchingfor.Noneofthefaceslookfamiliar,exceptforMavenâsfather.Hispainting,largerthantherest,gloweringovertheemptyfireplace, isdifficulttoignore.Stilldrapedinblack,asignofmourning.Heâsbeendeadonlyafewmonths.
I see Cal in his face, and Maven too. The same straight nose, highcheekbones,and thick,glossyblackhair.Family traits, judgingby theotherpictures of Calore kings. The one labeled Tiberias the Fifth is particularlygood-looking, almost startlingly so.But then, painters arenot paid tomaketheirsubjectslookugly.
Iâm not surprised to see Cal isnât represented. Like his mother, he hasbeenremoved.Afewspacesareconspicuouslyempty,andIsupposeheusedtooccupythem.Whywouldnâthe?Calwashisfatherâsfirstborn,hisfavoriteson. Itâs no wonderMaven took down his brotherâs pictures. No doubt heburnedthem.
âHowâsthehead?âIaskEgg,offeringasly,emptysmile.
Herespondswithaglare,andmysmilespreads.Iâlltreasurethememoryofhimflatonhisback,electrocutedintounconsciousness.
âNomoreshakes?âIpresson,flutteringahandthewayhisbodyflopped.Again no response, but his neck colors blue-gray in an angry flush. Thatâsentertainmentenoughforme.âDamn,thoseskinhealersaregood.â
âHavingfun?â
Mavenentersalone,hispresenceoddlysmallincomparisontothefigurehe cuts on the throne.HisSentinelsmust be close, though, just outside thestudy.Heâsnotfoolishenoughtogoanywherewithoutthem.Withonehandhe gestures, sweeping theArvens from the room.They go swiftly, quiet asmice.
âIdonâthavemuchelseforamusement,âIsaywhentheydisappear.Forthe thousandth time today, I curse the presence of the manacles. Withoutthem, Maven would be as dead as his mother. Instead, they force me totoleratehiminallhisdisgustingglory.
He grins at me, enjoying the dark joke. âGood to see not even I canchangeyou.â
To that I have no response at all. I canât count the ways Maven haschangedme,anddestroyedthegirlIusedtobe.
As I suspected, he flounces to the desk and sits with a cool, practicedgrace.âImustapologizeformyrudeness,Mare.âIthinkmyeyesbugoutofmyhead,becausehelaughs.âYourbirthdaywasmorethanamonthago,andIdidnâtgetyouanything.âAswiththeArvens,hegestures,motioningformetotakeaseatinfrontofhim.
Surprised, shaken, still numb from my little performance, I do as hecommands.âTrustme,âImutter,âIâmfinewithoutwhatevernewhorroryouplantogifttome.â
Hissmilewidens.âYouâlllikethis,Ipromise.â
âSomehowIdonâtbelievethat.â
Grinning, he reaches into a drawer of his desk. Without ceremony, hetossesmeascrapofsilk.Black,onehalfofitembroideredwithredandgoldflowers.Isnatchitupgreedily.Gisaâshandiwork.Irunitbetweenmyfingers.It still feels smooth and cool, though I expect something slimy, corrupted,poisonedbyMavenâspossession.Buteverytwistofthreadisapieceofher.Perfectinitsfiercebeauty,flawless,areminderofmysisterandourfamily.
Hewatchesmeturnthesilkoverandover.âWetookitoffyouwhenwefirstapprehendedyou.Whileyouwereunconscious.â
Unconscious. Imprisonedinmyownbody, torturedbytheweightof thesounder.
âThankyou,âIforceoutstiffly.AsifIhaveanyreasontothankhimforanything.
âAndââ
âAnd?â
âIofferyouonequestion.â
Iblinkathim,confused.
âYoumayaskonequestion,andIwillanswerittruthfully.â
Forasecond,Idonâtbelievehim.
Iâmamanofmyword,whenIwanttobe.Hesaidthatonce,andstandsbyit.Itreallyisagift,ifheholdstohispromise.
The first question riseswithout thought.Are they alive?Did you reallyleavethemthere,andletthemgetaway?ItalmostslipspastmylipsbeforeIthink better ofwastingmy question.Of course they got away. If Calweredead,Iwouldknowit.Mavenwouldstillbegloating,orsomeonewouldhavesaid something.And he is far too concernedwith the ScarletGuard. If theothershadbeencapturedafterme,hewouldknowmoreandfearless.
Maven tipshishead,watchingme thinkasacatwatchesamouse.Heâsenjoyingthis.Itmakesmyskincrawl.
Whygivemethis?Whyevenletmeask?Anotherquestionalmostwasted.BecauseIknowtheanswertothistoo.MavenisnotwhoIthoughthewas,butthatdoesnâtmeanIdonâtknowpartsofhim.Icanguesswhatthisis,asmuchasIwanttobewrong.Itâshisversionofanexplanation.Awaytomakemeunderstandwhatheâsdoneandwhyhecontinuestodoit.HeknowswhatquestionIwilleventuallysummonthecouragetoask.Heisaking,butaboytoo,aloneinaworldofhisownmaking.
âHowmuchofitwasher?â
Hedoesnâtflinch.Heknowsmetoowelltobesurprised.Amorefoolishgirlwoulddaretohopeâwouldbelievehimapuppettoanevilwoman,nowabandoned,nowadrift.Continuingonacoursehehasnoideahowtochange.Luckily,Iâmnotthatstupid.
âIwasslowtowalk,youknow.âHeisnâtlookingatmeanymore,butattheblueflagaboveus.Adornedinwhitepearlsandcloudygems,arichthingdoomed to collect dust in Elaraâsmemory. âThe doctors, even Father, theytoldMotherIwouldbefine inmyowntime. Itwouldhappenoneday.Butâone dayâ wasnât fast enough for her. She couldnât be the queen with thecrippled, slow son. Not after Coriane gave the kingdom a prince like Cal,always smiling and talking and laughing and perfect. She had my nursediscarded,blamedherformyshortcomings,andtookituponherselftomakemestand.Idonâtrememberit,butshetoldmethestorysomanytimes.Shethoughtitshowedhowmuchshelovedme.â
Dreadpools inmy stomach, though I donât understandwhy.Somethingwarnsmetogetup,towalkfromthisroomandintothewaitingarmsofmy
guards.Anotherlie,anotherlie,Itellmyself.Artfullywoven,asonlyhecando.Mavencannotlookatme.Itasteshameontheair.
Hisperfecteyesmadeoficeglossover,butIâvelonghardenedmyselftohistears.Thefirstgetsstuckinhisdarklashes,awobblingdropofcrystal.
âIwasababy,andshehammeredherway intomyhead.Shemademybodystand, andwalk, and fall.Shedid it everyday,until I criedwhensheenteredaroom.UntilIlearnedtodoitmyself.Outoffear.Butthatwouldnotdoeither.Ababycryingwheneverhismotherheldhim?âHeshakeshishead.âEventually she took the fear away too.â His eyes darken. âLike so manyotherthings.
âYouaskhowmuchofitwasme,âhewhispers.âSome.Enough.â
Butnotall.
I canât stand this any longer. With unbalanced motions, tipped by theweightofmymanaclesandthesickclenchingofmyheart,Iclamberfromthechair.
âYoucanâtstillblamethisonher,Maven,âIhissathim,steppingback.âDonâtlietomeandsayyouâredoingthisbecauseofadeadwoman.â
As fast as his tears came, they disappear.Wiped away, as if they neverexisted.Thecrack inhismasksealsshut.Good. Ihavenodesire tosee theboybeneath.
âIâmnot,âhesaysslowly,sharply.âSheisgonenow.Mychoicesaremyown.OfthatIaminfinitelysure.â
Thethrone.Hisseatinthecouncilchamber.Plainthingscomparedtothediamondglassartistryorvelvethisfatherusedtosit.Hewnofblockedstone,simple,withoutgemsorpreciousmetal.AndnowIunderstandwhy.âSilentStone.Youmakeallyourdecisionssittingthere.â
âWouldnâtyou?WithHouseMerandusleeringsoclose?âHeleansback,propping his chin on one hand. âIâve had enough of thewhispers they callguidance.Enoughtolastalifetime.â
âGood,âIspitathim.âNowyouhavenooneelsetoblameforyourevil.â
One side of hismouth lifts in a weak, patronizing smile. âYouâd thinkthat.â
I fight the urge to seize whatever I can and bash his head in with it,erasinghissmilefromthefaceoftheearth.âIfonlyIcouldkillyouandbedonewiththis.â
âHowyouwoundme.âHecluckshis tongue,amused.âAnd thenwhat?Run back to your Scarlet Guard? To my brother? Samson saw him manytimesinyourthoughts.Dreams.Memories.â
âStill fixatedonCal,evennow,whenyouâvewon?âItâsaneasycardtoplay.Hisgrins annoyme,butmy smirkvexeshim just asmuch.Weknowhowtoneedleeachother.âStrange,then,thatyouâretryingsohardtobelikehim.â
ItâsMavenâsturntostand,hishandslandinghardonthedeskasherisesup tomeetmy eye.A corner of hismouth twitches, pulling his face into abittersneer.âIâmdoingwhatmybrothernevercould.Calfollowsorders,buthe canât make choices. You know that as well as I do.â His eyes flicker,findinganempty spoton thewall.Looking forCalâs face. âNomatterhowwonderful youmight think he is, so gallant, brave, and perfect. He wouldmakeaworsekingthanIevercould.â
I almost agree. Iâve spent toomanymonthswatchingCalwalk the linebetweenScarletGuardandSilverprince,refusingtokillbutrefusingtostopus,neverleaningtoonesideor theother.Eventhoughheâsseenhorrorandinjustice,hestillwonâttakeastand.ButheisnotMaven.HeisnotoneinchtheevilthatMavenis.
âIâve only heard one person describe him as perfect. You,â I tell himcalmly. It only maddens him further. âI think you may have a bit of anobsession where Cal is concerned. Are you going to blame that on yourmothertoo?â
It was meant to be a joke, but to Maven it is anything but. His gazewavers,onlyforaninstant.Ashockingone.Inspiteofmyself,Ifeelmyeyeswiden and my heart drop in my chest. He doesnât know. He truly doesnâtknowwhatpartsofhismindarehisownandwhatpartsweremadebyher.
âMaven,âIcanâthelpbutwhisper,terrifiedbywhatImayhavestumbledupon.
He draws one hand through dark hair, pulling at the strands until theystand on end.An odd silence stretches, one that exposes us both. I feel asthoughIhavewanderedsomewhereIshouldnotbe,trespassedintoaplaceIreallydonâtwanttogo.
âLeave,âhefinallysays,thewordquivering.
I donât move, drinking in what I can.For use later, I tell myself. NotbecauseIâmtoonumbtowalkaway.NotbecauseIfeelonemoreincredible
surgeofpityfortheghostprince.
âIsaidleave.â
IâmusedtoCalâsangerheatinguparoom.Mavenâsangerfreezes,andachillrunsdownmyspine.
âThe longer you make them wait, the worse theyâll be.â EvangelineSamoshasthebestandworsttiming.
Sheblazesthroughinherusualstormofmetalandmirrors,herlongcapetrailing. It picksup the red color of the room,glinting crimson and scarlet,flashingwith every step.As Iwatchher, heart hammering inmychest, thecape splits and re-forms before my eyes, each half wrapping around amuscled leg. She smirks, lettingme watch, as her court dress becomes animposingsuitofarmor.It,too,islethallybeautiful,worthyofanyqueen.
Asbefore,Iamnotherproblem,andsheturnsherattentionfromme.Shedoesnât miss the strange current of tension on the air, or Mavenâs harriedmanner.Hereyesnarrow.Likeme,shetakesinthesight.Likeme,shewillusethistoheradvantage.
âMaven,didyouhearme?âShetakesafewboldsteps,roundingthedesktostandalongsidehim.Mavenangleshisbody,ghostingswiftlyfromoneofherhands.âThegovernorsarewaiting,andmyfatherhimselfââ
Withaviciouswill,Mavengrabsasheetofpaperfromhisdesk.Judgingby the florid signatures at thebottom, itmust be somekindofpetition.HeglaresatEvangeline,holding thepaperawayfromhisbodyashe flickshiswrist, drawing sparks fromhis bracelet.They light into twin arcs of flame,dancing through the petition like hot knives through butter. It disintegratesintoash,dustingthegleamingfloor.
âTellyourfatherandhispuppetswhatIthinkofhisproposition.â
Ifsheâssurprisedbyhisactions,shedoesnotshowit.Instead,shesniffs,inspectshernails.Iwatchhersidelong,wellawarethatsheâllattackmeifIsomuchasbreathetooloudly.Ikeepquietandwide-eyed,wishingIâdnoticedthepetitionbefore.WishingIknewwhatitsaid.
âCareful,my dear,â Evangeline says, sounding anything but loving. âAkingwithoutsupportersisnokingatall.â
He turnsonher,movingquicklyenough tocatchheroffguard.Theyâreclose to the sameheight, and they standalmost eye to eye.Fire and iron. Idonâtexpecthertoflinch,notforMaven,theboy,theprincesheusedtorun
lapsaroundinourTraininglessons.MavenisnotCal.Buthereyelidsflicker,blacklashesagainstsilver-whiteskin,betrayingasliveroffearshewantstohide.
âDonâtassumeyouknowwhatkindofkingIam,Evangeline.â
Ihearhismotherinhim,anditfrightensusboth.
Thenheturnshiseyesbackonme.Theconfusedboyofamomentagoisgone again, replacedby living stone and a frozenglare.The same goes foryou,hisexpressionsays.
Even though I want nothing more than to run from the room, I standrooted.Hehastakeneverythingfromme,butIwonâtgivehimmyfearormydignity.Iwonâtrunawaynow.EspeciallynotinfrontofEvangeline.
She looks atme again, eyes flitting over every inch ofmy appearance.MemorizingwhatIlooklike.Shemustseemebeneaththehealerâstouch,thebruises earned in my escape attempt, the permanent shadows beneath myeyes. When she focuses on my collarbone, it takes me a moment tounderstandwhy.Herlipspart,justalittle,inwhatcanonlybesurprise.
Angry,ashamed,Ipullthecollarofmydressbackupovermybrand.ButIneverlookawayfromherasIdo.Shewillnottakemyprideeither.
âGuards,â Maven finally says, pitching his voice at the door. As theArvensanswer,glovesoutstretchedtohurrymeaway,MavenpointshischinatEvangeline.âYoutoo.â
Shedoesnâttakewelltothat,ofcourse.
âIamnotsomeprisonertobeorderedaroundââ
I smile as theArvenspullme awayandout thedoor. It eases shut, butEvangelineâsvoiceechoesbehindus.Goodluck, I think.Mavencaresevenlessaboutyouthanhedoesaboutme.
Myguardssetaquickpace,forcingmetokeepup.Moreeasilysaidthandone,intherestrictingdress,butImanage.ThescrapofGisaâssilkfeelssoftagainstmyskin,clenchedtightlyinafist.Ifighttheurgetosmellthefabric,tochaseany remnantofmysister. I steal aglanceback,hoping toglimpseexactlywhomightbewaitingforanaudiencewithourwickedking.Instead,Isee only Sentinels, black-masked and flame-robed, standing guard at thestudydoor.
Itwrenchesopenviolently,quiveringonjumpinghingesbeforeslammingclosedwithasmack.Foragirlraisedanoble,Evangelinehasadifficulttime
controllinghertemper.Iwonderifmyoldetiquetteinstructor,LadyBlonos,evertriedtoteachherotherwise.Theimagealmostmakesmelaugh,bringingararesmiletomylips.Itstings,butIdonâtcare.
âSaveyoursmirks,lightninggirl,âEvangelinesnarls,doublingherspeed.
Her reactiononlygoadsmeon,despite thedanger. I laughoutrightas Iturnbackaround.Neitherofmyguardssaysaword,but theyquicken theirpacealittle.Eventheydonâtwanttotestanirritablemagnetronitchingforascuffle.
She catches us anyway, smoothly sidestepping Egg to plant herself infrontofme.Theguardsstopshort,holdingmewiththem.
âIncaseyouhavenâtnoticed, Iâmabitbusy,â I tellher,gesturing to theguardsholdingbothmyarms. âThere isnât really room forbickering inmyschedule.Gobothersomeonewhocanfightback.â
Hersmileflashes,sharpandbrightasthescalesofherarmor.âDonâtsellyourselfshort.Youâvegotplentyoffightleftinyou.âThensheleansforward,steppingintomyspaceasshedidwithMaven.Aneasywaytoshowsheisunafraid. I stand firm,willingmyselfnot towince,evenwhensheplucksarazoredscalefromherarmorlikeapetalfromaflower.
âAtleastIhopeso,âshesaysunderherbreath.
Withacarefulflickofherhand,shecutsthecollarofmydress,strippingbackapieceofembroideredscarlet.IfighttheurgetocovertheMbrandonmyskin,feelingahotflushofembarrassmentcreepupmythroat.
Hereyeslinger,tracingtheroughlinesofMavenâsmark.Againsheseemssurprised.
âThatdoesnâtlooklikeanaccident.â
âAnyotherwonderfulobservationsyouâdliketoshare?âImutterthroughgrittedteeth.
Grinning, she replaces the scale on her bodice. âNot with you.â It is areprieve when she pulls back, putting a few precious inches between us.âElane?â
âYes,Eve,âavoicesays.Fromnowhere.
InearlyjumpoutofmyskinwhenElaneHavenmaterializesbehindher,seeminglyfromthinair.Ashadow,abletomanipulatelight,powerfulenoughtomakeherselfinvisible.Iwonderhowlongsheâsbeenstandingwithus.Orifshewasinthestudy,eitherwithEvangelineorbeforesheevenwalkedin.
Shecouldâvebeenwatching theentire time.Forall Iknow,ElanecouldâvebeenmyghostsincethemomentIgothere.
âHasanyoneevertriedtoputabellonyou?âIsnap, ifonlytohidemyowndiscomfort.
Elane offers a pretty, tight-lipped smile that does not reach her eyes.âOnceortwice.â
Like Sonya, Elane is familiar to me.We spent many days in Trainingtogether, alwaysatodds.She is anotherofEvangelineâs friends,girls smartenoughtoallythemselvestoafuturequeen.AsaladyofHouseHaven,hergownandjewelryaredeepestblack.Notinmourning,butindeferencetoherhouse colors.Herhair is as red as I remember, bright copper in contrast todark, angled eyes and skin that seems blurred, perfected, and flawless.Thelightaroundheriscarefullymanipulated,givingheraheavenlyglow.
âWeârefinishedhere,âEvangelinesays,turningherlaserfocusonElane.âFornow.âShethrowsbackonedaggeredglancetomakeherpointclear.
NINEMare
Beingadollisanoddthing.Ispendmoretimeontheshelfthanatplay.Butwhen Iâm forced to, I dance atMavenâs commandâheupholdshis bargainwhileIdo.Afterall,heâsamanofhisword.
ThefirstnewbloodseeksrefugeatOceanHill,theHarborBaypalace,andasMavenpromised,heisgivenfullprotectionfromtheso-calledterroroftheScarlet Guard. A few days later the poor man, Morritan, is escorted toArcheon and introduced to Maven himself. It is well broadcast. Both hisidentityandhisabilityarenowcommonlyknownincourt.Tothesurpriseofmany,Morritan is aburner like the scionsofHouseCalore.ButunlikeCalandMaven,hehasnoneedfora flamemakerbracelet,orevenaspark.Hisfirecomesfromabilityandabilityalone,sameasmylightning.
Ihavetositandwatch,perchedonagildedchairwiththerestofMavenâsroyalentourage. Jon, the seer, sitswithme, red-eyedandquiet.As the firsttwonewbloods to joinwith theSilverking,weareaffordedplacesofgreathonoratMavenâsside,secondtoEvangelineandSamsonMerandus.ButonlyMorritan pays us any attention.As he approaches, before the eyes of courtand a dozen cameras, his gaze is always on me. He trembles, afraid, butsomething about my presence keeps him from running away, keeps himwalking forward. Obviously he believes what Maven made me say. Hebelieves theScarletGuardhuntedusall.Heevenkneelsandswears to joinMavenâs army, to train with Silver officers. To fight for his king and hiscountry.
Keepingsilentandstillisthemostdifficultpart.DespiteMorritanâslankylimbs,goldenskin,andhandscallusedbyyearsofservantwork,helookslikenothing more than a little rabbit scurrying directly into a trap. One wrongwordfrommeandthetrapwillspring.
Morefollow.
Dayafterday,weekafterweek.Sometimesone,sometimesadozen.Fromeverycornerofthenationtheycome,fleeingtothesupposedsafetyoftheirking.Mostbecausetheyareafraid,butsomebecausetheyarefoolishenoughtowantaplacehere.Toleavetheirlivesofoppressionbehindandbecomethe
impossible.Icanâtblamethem.Afterall,weâvebeentoldourentirelivesthattheSilversareourmasters,ourbetters,ourgods.Andnowtheyaremercifulenoughtoletusliveintheirheaven.Whowouldnâttrytojointhem?
Mavenplayshispartwell.Heembracesthemallasbrothersandsisters,smiling broadly, showing no shame or fear in an act thatmost Silvers findrepulsive.Thecourtfollowshislead,butIseetheirsneersandscowlshiddenbehindjeweledhands.Eventhoughthisispartofthecharade,awell-aimedblow against the Scarlet Guard, they dislike it. Whatâs more, they fear it.Many of the newbloods have untrained abilities more powerful than theirown,orbeyondSilvercomprehension.Theywatchwithwolfeyesandreadyclaws.
For once, I am not the center of attention. It ismy only respite, not tomention an advantage. No one cares about the lightning girl without herlightning.IdowhatIcan,whichislittle,butnotinconsequential.Ilisten.
Evangelineisrestlessdespiteaniron-facedfacade.Herfingersdrumthearmsof her seat, still onlywhenElane is near,whisperingor touchingher.Butthenshedoesnotdaretorelax.Sheremainsonanedgeassharpasherknives.Itâsnothardtoguesswhy.Evenforaprisoner,Iâveheardverylittletalkofaroyalwedding.Andthoughsheiscertainlybetrothedtotheking,sheis still not a queen. It scares her. I see it in her face, in hermanner, in herconstant parade of glittering outfits, each one more complicated and regalthan the last.Shewears a crown in all but name,yet thename iswhat shewants more than anything. Her father wants it too. Volo haunts her side,resplendentinblackvelvetandsilverbrocade.Unlikehisdaughter,hedoesnâtwearanymetalthatIcansee.Notachainorevenaring.Hedoesnâtneedtowearweaponrytoseemdangerous.Withhisquietmanneranddarkrobes,helooksmore like an executioner than anoble. I donât knowhowMaven canstandhispresence,orthesteady,focusedhungerinhiseyes.HeremindsmeofElara.Alwayswatchingthethrone,alwayswaitingforachancetotakeit.
Mavennotices,anddoesnotcare.HegivesVolotherespectherequires,but little more. And he leaves Evangeline to Elaneâs dazzling company,obviously glad that his future wife has no interest in him. His focus isdecidedlyelsewhere.Notonme,strangely,butonhiscousinSamson.Ialsohaveahardtimeignoringthewhisperwhotorturedthedeepestpartsofme.Iamconstantlyawareofhispresence,tryingtofeelouthiswhispersifIcan,thoughIhardlyhavethestrengthtoresistthem.Mavendoesnâthavetoworryaboutthat,notwithhischairofSilentStone.Itkeepshimsafe.Itkeepshimempty.
WhenIwasfirsttrainedtobeaprincess,alaughablethinginitself,Iwasengaged to the second prince, and I attended very few meetings of court.Balls,yes,feastsmany,butnothinglikethisuntilmyconfinement.NowIâvealmost lost count of howmany times Iâve been forced to sit likeMavenâswell-trainedpet,listeningtopetitioners,politicians,andnewbloodspledgingallegiance.
Today looks tobemoreof thesame.Thegovernorof theRift region,alord of House Laris, finishes a well-rehearsed plea for Treasury funds torepairSamos-ownedmines.AnotheroneofVoloâspuppets,hisstringsclearlyvisible.Maven defers him easily,with awave and a promise to reviewhisproposal.ThoughMavenisamanofhiswordwithme,heisnotatcourt.Thegovernorâsshouldersslumpindejection,knowingitwillneverberead.
Mybackalreadyhurtsfromthestiffchair,nottomentiontherigidpostureI have to maintain in my latest court ensemble. Crystal and lace. Red, ofcourse,asalways.Maven lovesme in red.Hesays itmakesme lookalive,evenaslifeisleachedfrommewitheverypassingday.
A full court is not required for the daily hearings, and today the throneroom is half empty. The dais is still crowded, though. Those chosen toaccompany the king, flanking his left and right, take great pride in theirposition,nottomentiontheopportunitytobefeaturedinyetanothernationalbroadcast. When the cameras roll, I realize that more newbloods must becoming.Isigh,resigningmyselftoanotherdayofguiltandshame.
Myguttwistswhenthetalldoorsopen.Ilowermyeyes,notwantingtoremembertheirfaces.MostwillfollowMorritanâsdamningexampleandjoinMavenâswarinanattempttounderstandtheirabilities.
Nexttome,Jontwitchesinhisusualway.Ifocusonhisfingers,longandthin, drawing lines against his pant leg. Sweeping back and forth, like apersonrifflingthroughpagesofabook.Heprobablyis,readingthetentativethreadsofthefutureastheyformandchange.Iwonderwhathesees.NotthatIwouldeverask.Iwillneverforgivehimforhisbetrayal.Atleasthedoesnâttrytotalktome,notsinceIpassedhiminthecouncilchambers.
âWelcome all,â Maven tells the newbloods. His voice is practiced andsteady,carrying throughthe throneroom.âNot toworry.Youâresafenow.Ipromiseyouall,theScarletGuardwillneverthreatenyouhere.â
Toobad.
I keepmy head bowed, hidingmy face from the cameras. The rush ofbloodroarsinmyears,hammeringintimewithmyheart.Ifeelnauseous;I
feelsick.Run!Iscreaminmyhead,eventhoughnonewbloodcouldescapethe throne room now. I look anywhere but at Maven and the newbloods,anywherebutattheinvisiblecagedrawinginaroundthem.MyeyeslandonEvangeline,onlytofindherstaringbackatme.Sheisnâtsmirkingforonce.Herfaceisblank,empty.ShehasmuchmorepracticeatthisthanIdo.
Mynailsareragged,cuticlespickedrawduringlongnightsofworryandlongerdaysof thispainless torture.TheSkonoshealerwhomakesme lookhealthy always forgets to check my hands. I hope anyone watching thebroadcastsdoesnot.
Nexttome,thekingkeepsatthishorriddisplay.âWell?â
Fournewbloodspresentthemselves,eachonemorenervousthanthelast.Theirabilitiesareoftenmetwithastonishedgaspsorharriedwhispers.Itfeelslike a grimmirror toQueenstrial. Insteadof performing their abilities for abridalcrown,thenewbloodsareperformingfortheirlives,toearnwhattheythink is sanctuary at Mavenâs side. I try not to watch, but find my eyesstrayingoutofpityandfear.
Thefirst,aheavysetwomanwithbicepstorivalCalâs, tentativelywalksthroughawall.Juststraightthrough,asifthegildedwoodandornatemoldingwereair.AtMavenâsfascinatedencouragement,shethendoesthesametoaSentinelguard.Heflinches,theonlyindicationofhumanitybehindhisblackmask,butisotherwiseunharmed.Ihavenoideahowherabilityworksatall,andIthinkofJulian.HeâswiththeScarletGuardtoo,andhopefullywatchingevery one of these broadcasts. If the Colonel allows it, that is. Heâs notexactlyafanofmySilverfriends.
Twooldmenfollowthewoman,white-hairedveteranswithfarawayeyesandbroadshoulders.Theirabilitiesarefamiliartome.Theshorteronewithmissing teeth is like Ketha, one of the newbloods I recruited months ago.Thoughshecouldexplodeanobjectorpersonwiththoughtalone,shedidnotsurvive our raid on Corros Prison. She hated her ability. It is bloody andviolent.Eventhoughthenewbloodmanonlydestroysachair,blinking it tosplinters, he doesnât look happy about it either. His friend is soft-spoken,introducing himself as Terrance before telling us he canmanipulate sound.LikeFarrah.Anotherrecruitofmine.ShedidnotcometoCorros.Ihopesheisstillalive.
Thelastisanotherwoman,probablymymotherâsage,herbraidedblackhair streakedwithgray.She is graceful inmovement, approaching thekingwiththequiet,elegantstridesofawell-trainedservant.LikeAda,likeWalsh,
likeme once. Like somany of uswere and still are.When she bows, shebowslow.
âYourMajesty,âshemurmurs,hervoicesoftandunassumingasasummerbreeze.âIamHalley,aservantofHouseEagrie.â
Maven gestures for her to rise, donning his false smile. She does ascommanded.âYouwereaservantofHouseEagrie,âhesaysgently.Thenhenodsoverhershoulder,findingthecommandingheadofEagrieinthesmallcrowd.âMythanks,LadyMellina,forbringinghertosafety.â
The tall, bird-faced woman is already curtsying, knowing the wordsbefore he speaks them.As an eye, she can see the immediate future, and Iassumeshesawherservantâsabilitybeforeherservantevenrealizedwhatshewas.
âWell,Halley?â
Hereyes flick tomine for a singlemoment. Ihope Iholdupunderherscrutiny.Butsheisnâtlookingformyfear,orwhatIhidebeneathmymask.Hereyesturnfaraway,seeingthroughandseeingnothingatthesametime.
âShe can control and create electricity, great and small,â Halley says.âYouhavenonameforthisability.â
ThenshelooksatJon.Thesamelookslidesoverher.âHeseesfate.Asfarasitspathgoes,foraslongasapersonwalksit.Youhavenonameforthisability.â
Mavennarrowshis eyes,wondering, and I loathemyself for feeling thesamewayhedoes.
Butshekeepsgoing,staringandspeakingassheturns.
âShe can controlmetalmaterials through themanipulation ofmagneticfields.Magnetron.â
âWhisper.â
âShadow.â
âMagnetron.â
âMagnetron.â
DownshegoesthroughthelineofMavenâsadvisers,pointingandnamingtheir abilities with little difficulty. Maven leans forward, quizzical, headtipped to one side in animal curiosity.Hewatches closely, barely blinking.Many think him stupid without his mother, not a military genius like his
brother,sowhatishegoodfor?Theyforgetthatstrategyisnotonlyforthebattlefield.
âEye.Eye.Eye.âShegesturestoherformermasters,namingthemaswellbefore dropping her hand to her side. Her fist clenches and unclenches,waitingfortheinevitabledisbelief.
âSo your ability is to sense other abilities?â Maven finally says, oneeyebrowraised.
âYes,YourMajesty.â
âAneasythingtoplayat.â
âYes,YourMajesty,âsheadmits,evensofternow.
It could be donewithoutmuch difficulty, especially by someone in herposition.SheservesaHighHouse,presentatcourtmoreoftenthannotthesedays. It would be easy for her tomemorizewhat others can doâbut evenJon?AsfarasIknow,heislaudedasthefirstnewbloodtojoinMaven,butIdonât thinkmanyknowhisability.Mavenwouldnâtwantpeople to thinkhereliesonsomeonewithredbloodtoadvisehisdecisions.
âKeepgoing.âHeraisesdarkeyebrows,goadingheron.Perform.
Shedoesashecommands,namingOsanosnymphs,Wellegreenwardens,aloneRhambosstrongarm.Oneafteranother,buttheyârewearingcolors,andsheisaservant.Sheâssupposedtoknowthesethings.Herabilityisaparlortrick at best, a lie and a death sentence at the worst. I know she feels theswordhangingoverherhead,growingcloserwitheverytickofMavenâsjaw.
Attheback,anIralsilkinredandbluegetstohisfeet,adjustinghiscoatashewalks.Ionlynoticebecausehisstepsarestrange,notasfluidasasilkâsshouldbe.Odd.
AndHalleynoticestoo.Shetrembles,onlyforasecond.
Itcouldbeherlifeorhis.
âShecanchangeherface,âshewhispers,herfingerquivering in theair.âYouhavenonameforthisability.â
The usual whispers of court end without an echo, snuffed out like acandle. Silence falls, broken only by the rising beat of my heart. She canchangeherface.
Mybodybuzzeswithadrenaline.Run!Iwanttoyell.Run!
And when the Sentinels take the Iral lord by the arms, marching him
forward,Ibegtomyself,Pleasebewrong.Pleasebewrong.Pleasebewrong.
âIamasonofHouseIral,âthemangrowls,tryingtobreakthegripoftheSentinelsoldiers.AnIralwouldbeabletodoit,twistingawaywithasmile.Butwhoeverheorsheisdoesnot.Mystomachdropstomyfeet.âYoutakethewordofalyingRedslaveabovemine?â
SamsonreactsbeforeMavencanevenask,quickasaswift.Hedescendsthestepsofthedais,hiselectric-blueeyescracklingwithhunger.Iguesshehasnât had many brains to feed on since mine. With a yelp, the Iral sonstumblestohisknees,headbowed.Samsonslamsintohismind.
Andthenhishairbleedsgray,shortens,recedestoadifferentheadwithadifferentface.
âNanny,â I hearmyself gasp.The oldwoman dares look up, eyeswideandscaredandfamiliar.Irememberrecruitingher,bringinghertotheNotch,watching her wrangle the newblood kids and tell stories of her owngrandchildren.Wrinkledasawalnut,olderthananyofus,andalwaysupforamission.Iwouldruntoembraceherifthatwereremotelypossible.
Instead,Ifall tomyknees,myhandslatchingontoMavenâswrist.IbeglikeIhaveonlyoncebefore,mylungsfullofashandcoldair,myheadstillspinningfromthecontrolledcrashofajet.
Thedressripsalongaseam.Itisnotmeantforkneeling.Notlikeme.
âPlease, Maven. Donât kill her,â I ask him, gulping at air, grasping atwhateverIcantosaveherlife.âShecanbeused;sheisvaluable.Lookwhatshecandoââ
Hepushesmeaway,hispalmagainstmybrand.âSheisaspyinmycourt.Arenâtyou?â
Still I beg, speaking beforeNannyâs smartmouth can get herwell andtrulykilled.Andforonce,Ihopethecamerasarestillwatching.
âShehasbeenbetrayed,liedto,misledbytheScarletGuard.Itâsnotherfault!â
Thekingdoesnotcondescendtostand,notevenforamurderathisfeet.Becauseheâsafraid to leavehisSilentStone, tomakeadecisionbeyond itscircleofemptycomfortandsafety.âTherulesofwarareclear.Spiesaretobedealtwithswiftly.â
âWhenyouare sick,whodoyoublame?â Idemand.âYourbodyor thedisease?â
HeglaresdownatmeandIfeelhollow.âYoublamethecurethatdidnâtwork.â
âMaven, I ambeggingyouâŠâ Idonât remember starting to cry, butofcourse Iam.Theyareshameful tears,because Iweepformyselfaswellasher. This was the beginning of a rescue. This was forme. Nannywasmychance.
My vision blurs, fogging the edge of my sight. Samson raises a hand,eagertodiveintowhatsheknows.IwonderhowdevastatingthiswillbetotheScarletGuardâandhowstupidtheyweretodothis.Whatarisk,whatawaste.
âRise.Redasthedawn,âshemutters,spitting.
Thenherfacechangesonelasttime.Toafaceweallrecognize.
Samson fallsbackahalf step, surprised,whileMavengives a strangledsortofcry.
Elarastaresbackatusfromthefloor,alivingghost.Herfaceismangled,destroyedbylightning.Oneeyeisgone,theotherbloodshotwithvilesilver.Her mouth curls into an inhuman sneer. It triggers terror in the pit of mystomach,thoughIknowsheâsdead.IknowIkilledher.
Itâsacleverploy,buyingherenough time to raiseahand toher lips, toswallow.
Iâveseensuicidepillsbefore.EventhoughIshutmyeyes,Iknowwhathappensnext.
Itâs better than what Samson would have done. And her secrets staysecrets.Forever.
TENMare
Itearaparteverybookonmyshelf, rip themtoshreds.Thebindingssnap,thepagestear,andIwishtheywouldbleed.IwishIcouldbleed.Sheâsdeadbecause Iâm not. Because Iâm still here, bait in a trap, a lure to draw theScarletGuardoutoftheirsanctuaries.
After a few hours of pointless destruction, I realize Iâm wrong. TheScarletGuardwouldnâtdothis.NottheColonel,notFarley,notforme.
âCal,youstupid,stupidbastard,âIsaytonoone.
Becauseofcourse thiswashis idea.Itâswhathelearned.Victoryatanycost.Ihopehedoesnâtcontinuetopaythisimpossiblepriceforme.
Outside,itâssnowingagain.Ifeelnoneofitscold,onlymyown.
In the morning, I wake up on my bed, still in my dress, though I donâtremember getting up from the floor. The ruined books are gone too,meticulouslysweptfrommylife.Eventhesmallestpiecesoftornpaper.Buttheshelvesarenâtempty.Adozenleather-boundbooks,newandold,occupythespaces.Theurgetoruinthemtooconsumesme,andIstumbletomyfeet,lunging.
ThefirstoneIgrabisratty,itscovertornandaged.Ithinkitusedtobeyellow,ormaybegold.Itdoesnâtreallymattertome.Iflipitopen,onehandgrabbingforasheafofpages,readytotearthemtobitsliketherest.
Familiar handwriting freezes me to the spot. My heart leaps inrecognition.
PropertyofJulianJacos.
Mykneesstopworkingbeneathme.Ilandwithasoftthud,bentoverthemost comforting thing Iâve seen inweeks.My fingers trace the linesofhisname,wishing hewould spring from them,wishing I could hear his voicesomewhereotherthaninmyhead.Iflipthroughthepages,lookingformoreevidenceofhim.Thewordsskimby,eachoneechoingwithhiswarmth.AhistoryofNorta,herformation,andthreehundredyearsofSilverkingsandqueensblazepast.Somepiecesareunderlinedorannotated.Eachnewburst
of Julian makes my chest constrict with happiness. In spite of mycircumstances,mypainfulscars,Ismile.
The other books are the same. All Julianâs, pieces of his much largercollections.Ipawthroughthemlikeagirlstarved.Hefavorsthehistories,butthere are sciences too.Evenanovel.Thatonehas twonames inside.FromJulian,toCoriane.Istareattheletters,theonlyevidenceofCalâsmotherinthisentirepalace. Iput thatonebackwithcare,my fingers lingeringon itsunbrokenspine.Sheneverreadit.Maybeshedidnâtgetthechance.
Deepdown,Ihatethatthesemakemehappy.IhatethatMavenknowsmewellenoughtoknowwhattogiveme.Becausethesearecertainlyfromhim.Theonlykindofapologyhecanmake,theonlyoneIcouldpossiblyaccept.ButIdonât.OfcourseIdonât.Asquickasitcame,mysmilefades.Icanâtletmyself feel anything but hatred where the king is concerned. Hismanipulations arenât as perfect as hismotherâs, but I feel them still, and Iwonâtletthempullmein.
For a second, I debate ripping the books apart like I did the others.ShowingMavenwhatIthinkofhisgift.ButIjustcanât.Myfingerslingeronthepages,soeasytotear.AndthenIshelvethemcarefully,onebyone.
Iwillnotdestroy thebooks,soIsettle for thedress instead, ripping theruby-encrustedfabricfrommybody.
Someone like Gisa probablymade this dress. A Red servant with keenhandsandanartistâseye,perfectlysewingsomethingsobeautifulandterriblethatonlyaSilvercouldwear it.The thoughtshouldmakemesad,butonlyangerbleedsthroughme.Ihavenomoretears.Notafteryesterday.
Whenthenextoutfitisdeliveredbysilent,stone-facedCloverandKitten,I pull it on without hesitation or complaint. The blouse is flecked with atreasuretroveofruby,garnet,andonyx,withlong,trailingsleevesstripedinblacksilk.Thepantsareagifttoo,looseenoughtopassforcomfortable.
The Skonos healer comes next. She focuses her efforts on my eyes,healing both the puffiness and my throbbing headache from last nightâsfrustrated tears. Like Sara, she is quiet and skilled, her blue-black fingersflutteringalongmyaches.Sheworksquickly.SodoI.
âCanyouspeak,ordidQueenElaracutyourtongueouttoo?â
SheknowswhatIâmtalkingabout.Hergazewavers, lashesflutteringinquickblinksofsurprise.Still,shedoesnâtspeak.Shehasbeentrainedwell.
âGooddecision.Last timeIsawSara, Iwasrescuingherfromaprison.
Seemsevenlosinghertonguewasnâtenoughpunishment.âIglancepasther,toClover andKitten lookingon.Like thehealer, theyconcentrateonme. Ifeelthecoldrippleoftheirability,pulsingintimewiththeconstantsilenceofmymanacles.âTherewerehundredsofSilversinthere.ManyfromtheHighHouses.Haveanyfriendsgomissinglately?â
Idonâthavemanyweaponsinthisplace.ButIhavetotry.
âKeepyourmouthshut,Barrow,âClovergrowls.
Justgettinghertospeakisvictoryenoughforme.Ipushon.
âI find it odd that no one seems to mind that the little king is abloodthirstytyrant.ButthenIâmRed.Idonâtunderstandyoupeopleatall.â
I laughasClovershovesmeawayfromthehealer,fumingnow.âThatâsenoughhealingforher,âshehisses,pullingmefromtheroom.Hergreeneyesspark with anger, but also confusion. Self-doubt. Little cracks I intend towheedlemywaythrough.
Nooneelseshouldriskrescuingme.Ihavetodoitmyself.
âIgnore her,â Kitten mutters back at her comrade, her voice high andbreathyanddrippingvenom.
âWhatanhonor itmustbeforyoutwo.âIkeep talkingas they leadmedownlong,familiarcorridors.âBabysittingsomeRedbrat.Cleaningupafterhermeals,tidyingherroom.AllsoMavencanhavehisdollaroundwhenhewants.â
Itonlymakesthemangrierandrougherwithme.Theyquickentheirpace,forcingmetokeepup.Suddenlyweturnleftinsteadofright,intoanotherpartofthepalaceIdimlyremember.Residencehalls,wheretheroyalslive.Ilivedhereoncetoo,ifonlyforalittlewhile.
Myheartbeatquickensaswepassastatueinanalcove.Irecognizeit.Myroomâmy old bedchamberâis a few doors away. Calâs room too, andMavenâs.
âNotsotalkativenow,âCloversays,hervoicesoundingfaraway.
Light streams in through the windows, doubly bright from the sun onfreshsnow.Itdoesnothingtocomfortme.IcanhandleMaveninthethroneroom, in his study,when I amondisplay.But aloneâtruly alone?Beneathmyclothes,hisbrandsmartsandburns.
Whenwestopatadoorandpushthroughtothesaloninside,Irealizemymistake. Relief washes over me.Maven is king now. His living chambers
arenâthereanymore.
ButEvangelineâsare.
Shesitsinthecenteroftheoddlybaresalon,surroundedbytwistedpiecesofmetal.Theyvary in color andmaterialâiron,bronze, copper.Herhandswork diligently, shaping flowers from chrome, curling them into a braidedsilver and gold band.Another crown for her collection.Another crown shecanâtwearyet.
Twoattendantswait onher.Aman and awoman, plainlydressed, theirclothesstripedwiththecolorsofHouseSamos.Withajolt,IrealizetheyareRed.
âMake her presentable, please,â Evangeline says, not bothering to lookup.
TheRedsdescend,wavingmetothesinglemirrorintheroom.AsIstareinto it, I realizeElane ishere aswell, lazingona longcouch in abeamofsunlightlikeasatisfiedcat.Shemeetsmygazewithoutquestionorfear,onlydisinterest.
âYoumaywaitoutside,âElanesayswhenshebreakseyecontact,turningbacktomyArvenguards.Herredhaircatchesthelight,ripplinglikeliquidfire. Even though I have an excuse for looking horrible, I still feel self-consciousinherpresence.
Evangelinenods,agreeing,andtheArvensfileout.Bothcastdisgruntledglancesinmydirection.Igreedilydrinkthemintotreasurelater.
âAnyonecaretoexplain?âIaskthequietroom,expectingnoanswer.
The other two laugh together, exchanging pointed glances. I take theopportunity to assess the room and the situation. Thereâs another door,probably leading to Evangelineâs bedroom, while the windows are lockedtight against the cold. Her room looks out on a familiar courtyard, and Irealizemycellofabedroommustfacehers.Therevelationshiversme.
To my surprise, Evangeline drops her work with a clatter. The crownshatters,unabletoholditsshapewithoutherability.âItisthequeenâsdutytoreceiveguests.â
âWell,Iâmnotaguestandyouârenotaqueen,soâŠâ
âIfonlyyourbrainwereasquickasyourmouth,âshesnapsback.
TheRedwomanblinks rapidly, flinching likeourwordsmighthurther.Actually, theymight, and I resolve to be less stupid. I bitemy lip to keep
more foolish thoughts from spillingout, letting the twoRed servantswork.Themanattends tomyhair,brushing it throughandcoiling it intoa spiral,whileshedoesupmyface.NoSilverpaint,butsheusesblush,abitofblacktolinemyeyes,andstrikingredformylips.Agarishsight.
âThat will do,â Elane says from her back. The Reds are quick to pullaway,droppingtheirhandsto theirsidesandbowingtheirheads.âWecanâthaveherlookingtoowelltreated.Theprinceswonâtunderstandit.â
My eyes widen. Princes.Guests. Who am I being paraded in front ofnow?
Evangelinenotices.Shehuffsaloud,flickingabronzefloweratElane.Itembedsinthewallaboveherhead,butElanedoesnâtseemtomind.Sheonlysighsdreamily.
âMindwhatyousay,Elane.â
âSheâllfindoutinafewmoments,mydear.Whatâstheharm?âShegetsup from her pillows, extending long limbs that glow with her ability.Evangelineâseyestrackhereverymovement,sharpeningwhenElanecrossestheroomtomyside.
She joinsmeat themirror, looking intomy face. âYouâll behave today,wonâtyou?â
IwonderhowquicklyEvangelinewouldskinmeifIslammedmyelbowintoElaneâsperfectteeth.
âIâllbehave.â
âGood.â
And then shedisappears,wiped fromsightbutnot sensation. I still feelherhandonmyshoulder.Awarning.
IlookthroughwhereElaneâsbodywas,backtoEvangeline.Shegetsupfrom the floor, her dress pooling around her, fluid asmercury. It verywellcouldbe.
When she strides toward me, I canât help but recoil. But Elaneâs handkeepsmefrommoving,forcingmetostandupstraightandallowEvangelinetoleanoverme.Acornerofhermouthlifts.Shelikesseeingmeafraid.WhensheraisesahandandIflinch,shesmilesopenly.Butinsteadofstrikingme,shetucksastrandofhairbehindmyear.
âMakenomistake,thisisallformybenefit,âshesays.âNotyours.â
Ihavenoideawhatsheâstalkingabout,butInodalonganyway.
Evangelinedoesnâtleadustothethroneroom,buttoMavenâsprivatecouncilchambers.TheSentinelsguardingthedoorslookmoreimposingthanusual.When I enter, I realize theyâre even manning the windows. An extraprecautionafterNannyâsinfiltration.
The last time I passed through, the roomwas empty save for Jon.Heâsstillhere,quietinthecorner,unassumingnexttothehalf-dozenothersaroundtheroom.IshiveratthesightofVoloSamos,aquietspiderinblackwithhisson,Ptolemus,athisside.Ofcourse,SamsonMerandusisheretoo.HeleersatmeandIlowermyeyes,avoidinghisgazeasifIcanshieldmyselffromthememoryofhimcrawlingintomybrain.
IexpecttoseeMavenseatedaloneatthefarendofthemarbletable,butinstead, twomen flankhimclosely.Both aredraped inheavy furs and softsuede, dressed to withstand arctic cold even though we are well shelteredfromthewinter.Theyhavedeep,blue-blackskinlikepolishedstone.Theoneontherighthasbitsofgoldandturquoisebeadedintotheintricatewhorlsofhisbraids,whiletheoneontheleftsettlesforlong,gleaminglockstoppedbyacrownofblossomshewnfromwhitequartz.Royalty,clearly.Butnotours.NotfromNorta.
Maven raises a hand, gesturing toEvangeline as she approaches. In thelightofawintersun,shegleams.âMybetrothed,LadyEvangelineofHouseSamos,â he says. âShe was integral to the capture of Mare Barrow, thelightninggirlandtheleaderoftheScarletGuard.â
Evangelineplaysherpart,bowingbeforethetwo.Theybowtheirheadsinturn,theirmotionslongandfluid.
âOurcongratulations,LadyEvangeline,âtheonewiththecrownsays.Heevenextendsahand,gesturingforherown.She letshimkissherknuckles,beamingattheattention.
Whensheglaresatme,IrealizeEvangelinemeansformetojoinher.Idoso reluctantly. I intrigue the two newcomers, and they watch me infascination.Irefusetosomuchasnodmyhead.
âThis is the lightning girl?â the other prince says.His teeth flashmoonwhiteagainstnight-darkskin.âThis is theonegivingyousomuch trouble?Andyouletherlive?â
âOfcoursehedid,âhiscompatriotcrows.Hegetstohisfeet,andIrealizehe must be almost seven feet tall. âSheâs marvelous bait. Though Iâm
surprisedherterroristshavenâtattemptedarealrescue,ifsheâsasimportantasyousay.â
Mavenshrugs.Heexudesanairofquiet satisfaction. âMycourt iswelldefended.Infiltrationisallbutimpossible.â
Iglanceathim,meetinghiseyes.Liar.Healmostsmirksatme,likeitâsaprivatejokebetweenus.Ifightthefamiliarurgetospitathim.
âInPiedmontwewouldmarchherthroughthestreetsofeverycity,âtheprince with the quartz crown says. âShow our citizens what becomes ofpeoplelikeher.â
Piedmont. The word rings like a bell in my head. So these are thePiedmontprinces.Irackmybrain,tryingtorememberwhatIknowoftheircountry.AnallyofNorta,formingpartofoursouthernborder.Governedbyacollectionofprinces.AllthatIknowfromJulianâslessons.ButIknowotherthings too. I remember finding shipments on Tuck, supplies stolen fromPiedmont. And Farley herself hinted that the Scarlet Guardwas expandingthere,intentonspreadingtheirrebellionthroughNortaâsclosestally.
âDoes she speak?â the prince continues, looking between Maven andEvangeline.
âUnfortunately,âshereplieswithapointedsmirk.
Bothprinces laughat that,asdoesMaven.Therestof theroomfollowssuit,panderingtotheirlordandmaster.
âWellthen,PrinceDaraeus?PrinceAlexandret?âMavensweepshisgazeovereach in turn.Heproudlyplays thepartofking,despite the two royalstwicehisageandsize.Somehowhemeasuresupagainstthem.Elaratrainedhimsowell.âYouwantedtoseetheprisoner.Andyouâveseenher.â
Alexandret, already standing so close, takes my chin in soft hands. Iwonderwhathisabilityis.IwonderhowafraidofhimIshouldbe.âIndeed,YourMajesty.Wehaveafewquestions,ifyouwouldbesokindastoallowit?â
Though he frames the words as a request, this is little more than ademand.
âYourMajesty,Iâvealreadytoldyouwhatsheknows.âSamsonspeaksupfromhischair,leaningacrossthetablesohecangesturetome.âNothinginMareBarrowâsmindescapedmysearch.â
Iwouldnodinagreement,butAlexandretâsgripkeepsmestill.Istareup
at him, trying to deduce exactly what he wants fromme. His eyes are anabyss,unreadable.IdonâtknowthismanandfindnothinginhimIcanuse.MyskincrawlsathistouchandIwishformylightning,toputalittledistancebetween us.Over his shoulder,Daraeus shifts so he can seeme better.Hisgoldbeadingcatchesthewinterlight,fillinghishairwithdazzlingbrightness.
âKingMaven,wewouldliketohearitfromherownlips,âDaraeussays,leaning in to Maven. Then he smiles, all ease and charisma. Daraeus isbeautifulanduseshislookswell.âPrinceBrackenâsrequest,youunderstand.Weonlyneedafewminutes.â
Alexandret,Daraeus,Bracken.Icommitthenamestomemory.
âAskwhatyouwill.âMavenâshandsgriptheedgeofhisseat.Neitheronestopssmiling,andnothinghaseverlookedsofalse.âRighthere.â
After a long moment, Daraeus relents. He inclines his head in adeferentialbow.âVerywell,YourMajesty.â
Thenhisbodyblurs,movingsoquicklyIbarelyseehismovements.Heissuddenlyrightbesideme.Swift.Notasfastasmybrother,butfastenoughtosend a shock of adrenaline coursing through me. I still donât know whatAlexandretcando.Icanonlyprayheisnâtawhisper,thatIwonâthavetofacesuchtortureagain.
âIs the Scarlet Guard operating in Piedmont?â Alexandret asks as heloomsoverme,hisdeepeyesboring intomine.UnlikeDaraeus, there isnosmileinhim.
Iwaitforthetelltalestingofanothermindcrashingintomyown.Itnevercomes.Themanaclesâtheywonâtallowanabilitytopenetratemycocoonofsilence.
Myvoicecracks.âWhat?â
âI want to hear what you know of the Scarlet Guardâs operations inPiedmont.â
Every interrogation Iâve been subjected to has been performed by awhisper. Itâs odd to have someone ask me questions freely, and trust myanswerswithoutsplittingopenmyskull. IsupposeSamsonhasalreadytoldtheprinceseverythinghelearnedfromme,buttheydonâttrustwhathesaid.Smart,then,toseeifmystorymatchesupwithhis.
âThe Scarlet Guard is good at keeping secrets,â I reply,my thoughts ablur.DoIlie?DoIthrowmorefueltothefireofdistrustbetweenMavenand
Piedmont?âIwasnâtallowedmuchinformationregardingtheiroperations.â
âYouroperations.âAlexandretfurrowshisbrow,formingadeepcreaseinthecenterofhisforehead.âYouweretheirleader.Irefusetobelieveyoucanbesouselesstous.â
Useless.TwomonthsagoIwasthelightninggirl,astorminhumanform.ButbeforethatIwasashesays.Uselesstoeveryoneandeverything,evenmyenemies.BackintheStiltsIhatedit.NowIâmglad.IâmapoorweaponforaSilvertowield.
âIamnottheirleader,âItellAlexandret.Behindme,IhearMavenshift,settling back into his seat. I hope heâs squirming. âI never even met theirleaders.â
Hedoesnâtbelieveme.Buthedoesnâtbelievewhatheâsalreadybeentoldeither.âHowmanyofyouroperativesareinPiedmont?â
âIdonâtknow.â
âWhoisfundingyourendeavors?â
âIdonâtknow.â
Itstartsasaprickleinmyfingersandtoes.Atinysensation.Notpleasantbutnotuncomfortable.Likewhenalimbgoesnumb.Alexandretneverletsgoofmyjaw.Themanacles,Itellmyself.Theywillprotectmefromhim.Theymust.
âWherearePrinceMichaelandPrincessCharlotta?â
âIdonâtknowwhothosepeopleare.â
Michael, Charlotta.More names tomemorize. The prickling continues,nowinmyarmsandlegs.Idrawhissingbreaththroughmyteeth.
Hiseyesnarrowinconcentration.Ibracemyselfforanexplosionofpainborn ofwhatever ability hewill subjectme to. âHave you had any contactwiththeFreeRepublicofMontfort?â
Still the prickling is bearable. Only his tight grip on my jaw is trulypainful.
âYes,âIbiteout.
Then he pulls back, lettingmy chin gowith a sneer.He glances atmywrists,thenforciblyraisesonesleevetoseemybindings.Thebuzzinginmyarmsandlegsrecedesashescowls.
âYour Majesty, I wonder if I might question her without manacles ofSilentStone?âAnotherdemanddisguisedasarequest.
This time,Maven denies him.Withoutmymanacles, his abilitywill beunbound.Itmustbeenormousforittohavepenetratedevenalittlethroughmycageofsilence.Iâllbetortured.Again.
âYoumaynot,YourHighness.Sheisfartoodangerousforthat,âMavensayswithacurtshakeofhishead.Inspiteofallmyhatred,Ifeelthesmallestbloom of gratitude. âAnd, as you said, sheâs valuable. I canât have youbreakingher.â
Samsondoesnâtbothertohidehisdisgust.âSomeoneshould.â
âIs there anything else I can do for Your Highnesses, or for PrinceBracken?âMavenpusheson,speakingoverhisdemoniccousin.Heunfoldshimself fromhischair,usingonehand tosmoothhisdressuniformstuddedwithmedalsandbadgesofhonor.Buthekeepsonehandontheseat,clawedaroundanarmofSilentStone.Itishisanchorandhisshield.
Daraeus bows low enough for both princes, smiling again. âI did hearrumorsofafeast.â
âForonce,âMavenreplieswithasharpgrininmydirection,âtherumorsaretrue.â
LadyBlonosnevertaughtmetheprotocolforentertainingroyaltyofanallynation.Iâveseenfeastsbefore,balls,aQueenstrialIinadvertentlyruined,butnever anything like this. Perhaps because Mavenâs father was not soconcernedwithappearance,butMavenishismotherâssoninfleshandbone.Tolookpowerfulistobepowerful,shesaidonce.Todayhetakesthatlessontoheart.His advisers, hisPiedmontguests, and I are seated at a long tablewherewecanoverlookalltherest.
Iâveneversetfootinthisballroombefore.Itdwarfsthethroneroom,thegalleries,andthefeastingchambersoftherestofWhitefire.Itfitstheentireassembled court, all the lords and ladies and their extended families, withease. The chamber is three stories tall, towering windows of crystal andcoloredglass,eachonedepictingthecolorsoftheHighHouses.Theresultisadozenrainbowsarcingoveramarblefloorveinedwithblackgranite,eachbeam of light a prism shifting through the diamond facets of chandeliersworkedintotrees,birds,sunbeams,constellations,storms,infernos,typhoons,andadozenothersymbolsofSilverstrength.Iwouldspendtheentiremealstaringat theceilingifnotforownmyprecariousposition.AtleastIâmnotnexttoMaventhistime.Theprinceshavetosufferhimtonight.ButJonison
myleftandEvangelineonmyright.Ikeepmyelbowstuckedsharplytomysides,notwantingtoaccidentallytoucheitherofthem.Evangelinemightstabme,andJonmightshareanothernauseatingpremonition.
Luckily,thefoodisgood.Iforcemyselftoeat,andIkeepawayfromtheliquor.Redservantscirculate,andnoglassiseverempty.Aftertenminutesoftryingtocatchsomeoneâseye,Iabandonthepursuit.Theservantsaresmart,andnotwillingtorisktheirlivesforaglanceatme.
I fixmyeyesahead,counting the tables,counting theHighHouses.Allarehere,plusHouseCalore,representedbyMavenalone.Hehasnocousinsor other family that I know of, though I assume theymust exist. Like theservants, theyâre probably smart enough to avoid his jealous wrath andtremulousgriponthethrone.
HouseIralseemssmaller,dulleddespitetheirvibrantblue-and-redoutfits.Therearenowherenearasmanyofthem,andIwonderhowmanyIralsweresent toCorrosPrison.Ormaybetheyfledcourt.Sonyaisstillhere, though,her posture elegant and practiced but strangely tense. Sheâs traded herofficerâs uniform for a sparkling gown and sits beside an older man,resplendentinacollarofrubiesandsapphires.Probablythenewlordofherhousesincehispredecessor,thePanther,wasmurderedbyamansittingonlya few feet away. I wonder if Sonya told them what I said about hergrandmotherandPtolemus.Iwonderiftheycare.
IjoltwhenSonyalooksupsharply,catchingmyeye.
Nexttome,Jonsighslongandlow.Hepicksuphisglassofscarletwinewithonehandandshuntshisdinnerknifeawaywiththeother.
âMare,couldyoudomeasmallfavor?âhesayscalmly.
Evenhisvoicedisgustsme.Sneering, I turn to lookathimwith all thevenomIcanmuster.âExcuseme?â
Something cracks, and pain sears along my cheekbone, cutting skin,burningflesh.Ijerkfromthesensation,fallingsideways,shyingawaylikeaspooked animal. My shoulder collides with Jon, and he pitches forward,spillingwineandwaterover the fine tablecloth.Blood too.Thereâsa lotofblood.Ifeelit,warmandwet,butIdonâtlookdowntoseethecolor.MyeyesareonEvangeline,standingfromthetable,onearmoutstretched.
A bullet shudders on the air in front of her, held in place. I assume itmatchestheonethatcutmycheekâandcouldhavedonemuchworse.
Herfistclenchesandthebulletrocketsbackwardtowhereitcamefrom,
chasedonbysplintersofcoldsteelastheyexplodefromherdress.Iwatchinhorror as blue-and-red figures weave through the metallic storm, dodging,dipping,dartinginandoutofeveryblow.Theyevencatchpiecesofhermetalprojecticles and hurl them back, beginning the cycle again in a violent,glitteringdance.
Evangelineisnottheonlyonetoattack.Sentinelspitchforward,surgingover thehigh table, formingawallbeforeus.Theirmovementsareperfect,made through years of relentless training. But their ranks have gaps. Andsomethrowtheirmasksaway,discardingtheirflamelikerobes.Theyturnononeanother.
TheHighHousesdothesame.
Iâve never felt so exposed, so helpless, and thatâs saying quite a bit. Infrontofme,godsduel.Myeyeswiden, trying to see it all.Trying tomakesense of this. Iâve never imagined anything like it. An arena battle in themiddleofaballroom.Jewelsinsteadofarmor.
IralandHavenandLarisintheirshockingyellowseemtoformonesideof whatever this is. They back one another, aid one another. LariswindweaverstossIralsilksfromonesideoftheroomtotheotherwithsharpgusts,wieldingthemlikelivingarrowswhiletheIralsfirepistolsandthrowknives with deadly precision. The Havens have disappeared entirely, but afewSentinelsinfrontofusdrop,felledbyinvisibleattacks.
Andtherest, therestdonâtknowwhat todo.SomeâSamos,Merandus,mostof theguardsandSentinelsârally to thehigh table, rushing todefendMaven,whoIcanâtsee.Butmostfallback,surprised,betrayed,notwillingtowadeintosuchamessandrisktheirownnecks.Theydefendanddonothingelse.Theywatchtoseethedirectionofthetide.
Myheartleapsinmychest.Thisismychance.Inthechaos,noonewillnoticeme.Themanacleshavenottakenawaymythiefâsinstinctsortalents.
Ipushoffthefloor,findingmyfeet,notbotheringtowonderaboutMavenor anyone. I focus only onwhatâs in front ofme.The closest door. I donâtknowwhereitgoes,butitwillgetmeawayfromhere,andthatâsenough.AsImove,Igrabaknifeoffthetableandsetittowork,tryingtopickthelocksofmymanacles.
Someonefleesaheadofme,leavingatrailofscarletblood.Helimpsbutmovesfast,duckingthroughadoor.Jon,Irealize.Makinghisescape.Heseesthefuture.Surelyhecanseethebestwayoutofhere.
IwonderifIâllbeabletokeepup.
Igetmyanswerafteragrandtotalofthreesteps,whenaSentinelseizesmefrombehind.Hepinsmyarmstomysides,holdingtight.Igroanlikeanannoyedchild,exasperatedbeyondfrustration,asmyhanddropstheknife.
âNo,no,no,âSamsonsaysashestepsintomypath.TheSentinelwonâtevenletmeflinch.âWecanâthavethis.â
Now I can see what this is. Not a rescue. Not for me. A coup, anassassinationattempt.TheyâvecomeforMaven.
Iral,Haven, andLaris cannotwin this battle.Theyâre outnumbered, buttheyknowthat.Theypreparedforit.TheIralsareschemersandspies.Theirplaniswellexecuted.Alreadytheyâremakinganescapethroughtheshatteredwindows.Iwatch,dumbfounded,as theythrowthemselvesout intothesky,catchinggalesofwindthatflingthemoutandaway.Notallofthemmakeit.Nornus swifts catch a few, as does Prince Daraeus, despite a long knifeprotrudingfromhisshoulder.IassumetheHavensarelonggonetoo,thoughoneortwoflickerbackintomyvision,eachonebleeding,dying,assaultedbyaMeranduswhisperâsonslaught.Daraeushimselfputsoutoneblurringarmand catches someone by the neck.When he squeezes, aHaven blinks intoexistence.
TheSentinelswho turned, all Laris and Iral, donâtmake it either.Theykneel, angrybutunafraid,burningwithdetermination.Without theirmasks,theydonâtlooksoterrifying.
Agurglingsounddrawsourattention.TheSentinelturns,allowingmetosee the center ofwhatwas once the feasting table.A crowd clusterswhereMavenâs seatwas, someonguard, somekneeling.Through their legs, I seehim.
Silver blood bubbles from his neck, gushing through the fingers of thenearestSentinel,whois tryingtokeeppressureonabulletwound.Mavenâseyesrollandhismouthmoves.Hecanâtspeak.Hecanâtevenscream.Awet,gaspingsortofnoiseisallhecanmake.
IâmgladtheSentinelholdsmestill.OrelseImightruntohim.Somethinginmewants to run to him.Whether to finish the jobor comfort himas hedies,Idonâtknow.Idesirebothinequalmeasure.Iwanttolookintohiseyesandseehimleavemeforever.
ButIjustcanâtmove,andhejustwonâtdie.
TheSkonosskinhealer,myskinhealer,skids tohisside,slidingonher
knees.IthinkhernameisWren.Anaptname.Sheissmallanddartingashernamesake.Shesnapsherfingers.âTakeitout;Ihavehim!âsheshouts.âOut,now!â
PtolemusSamoscrouches,abandoninghisguardingvigil.Hetwitcheshisfingers and a bullet pulls free of Mavenâs neck, bringing with it a freshfountainofsilver.Maventriestoscream,garglinghisownblood.
Brow furrowed, the skin healer works, holding both hands over hiswound.Shebendsasiftoputherweightonhim.Fromthisangle,Icanâtseethe skin beneath, but the blood stops gushing. The wound that shouldâvekilledhimheals.Muscleandveinandfleshknitbacktogether,goodasnew.Noscarbutthememory.
Afteralong,gaspingmoment,Mavenhurtlestohisfeet,andfireexplodesfromboth hands, sending his entourage reeling backward.The table beforehim flips, blasted back by the strength and rage of his flame. It lands in aresounding heap, spitting puddles of blue-burning alcohol. The rest ignites,fedbyMavenâsanger.And,Ithink,terror.
OnlyVolohasthespinetoapproachhiminsuchastate.
âYourMajesty,shouldweevacuateyoutotheââ
With wicked eyes, Maven turns. Above him, the lightbulbs in thechandeliersburst,spittingflameinsteadofsparks.âIhavenoreasontorun.â
Allthisinafewmoments.Theballroomisinshambles,fullofshatteredglass,upendedtables,andafewverymangledbodies.
PrinceAlexandretisamongthem,slumpeddeadinhisseatofhonorwithabulletholebetweenhiseyes.
Idonâtmournhisloss.Hisabilitywaspain.
Naturally,theyinterrogatemefirst.Ishouldbeusedtoitbynow.
Exhausted, emotionally spent, I slump to the cold stone floor whenSamsonletsmego.Mybreathingcomeshard,likeIâvejustrunarace.Iwillmy heartbeat to normalize, to stop panting, to hold on to some shred ofdignityandsense.IcringeastheArvenslockmymanaclesbackintoplace;thentheypassthekeyaway.Themanaclesareareliefandaburdenboth.Ashieldandacage.
Weâveretreatedtothegrandcouncilchambersthistime,thecircularroomwhere I sawWalshdie toprotect theScarletGuard.More roomhere,morespace to try the dozen captured assassins. The Sentinels have learned their
lesson,andtheykeepfirmgripsontheprisoners,notallowinganymovement.Mavenleersdownfromhiscouncilseat,flankedoneithersidebyVoloandDaraeus. The latter fumes, torn between livid rage and sorrow. His fellowprince is dead, killed inwhat I now knowwas an assassination attempt onMaven.Anattemptthat,sadly,failed.
âSheknewnothingofthis.NeitherthehouserebellionnorJonâsbetrayal,âSamson tells the room.The terrible chamber seems small,withmostof theseats empty and the doors firmly locked. Only Mavenâs closest advisersremain,lookingon,gearsturningintheirheads.
Inhisseat,Mavensneers.Almostbeingmurdereddoesnâtseemtorattlehim.âNo,thiswasnottheScarletGuardâsdoing.Theydonâtworklikethis.â
âYou donât know that,â Daraeus snaps, forgetting all his manners andsmiles.âYoudonâtknowanythingaboutthem,nomatterwhatyoumightsay.IftheScarletGuardhasalliedwithââ
âCorrupted,â Evangeline snaps from her place behind Mavenâs leftshoulder. She doesnât have a council seat or a title of her own and has tostand,despitethemanyemptychairs.âGodsdonotallywithinsects,buttheycanbeinfectedbythem.â
âPrettywords fromaprettygirl,âDaraeussays,dismissingheroutright.Shefumes.âWhatoftherest?â
At Mavenâs gesture, the next interrogation begins in earnest. A Havenshadow, grasped tightly by Trio himself to keep the woman from fleeing.Withoutherability, sheseemsdim,anechoofherbeautifulhouse.Her redhair is darker, duller,without its usual scarlet gleam.When Samson puts ahandtohertemple,sheshrieks.
âHerthoughtsareofhersister,âSamsonsayswithoutanyfeeling.Exceptmaybeboredom.âElane.â
Isawheronlyhoursago,glidingaroundEvangelineâssalon.Shegavenoindicationthatsheknewofanimpendingassassination.Butnogoodschemerwould.
Maven knows it too.He glares at Evangeline, seething. âIâm toldLadyElane escapedwith themajority of her house, fleeing the capital,â he says.âDoyouhaveanyideawheretheymighthavegone,mydearest?â
Shekeepsher eyes forward,walkingaquickly thinning line.Evenwithher father and brother so close, I donât think anyone could save her fromMavenâswrathifhefeltinclinedtounleashit.âNo,whywouldI?âshesays
airily,examiningherclawlikenails.
âBecause she was your brotherâs betrothed and your whore,â the kingreplies,matter-of-fact.
If sheâs ashamedor even apologetic,Evangelinedoesnot show it. âOh,that.âSheevenscoffs,takingtheaccusationinstride.âHowcouldshelearnmuchofanythingfromme?Youconspiresowell tokeepmefromcouncilsand politics. If anything, she did you a favor in keeping me pleasantlyoccupied.â
Theirbickeringremindsmeofanotherkingandanotherqueen:Mavenâsparents, fighting after the ScarletGuard attacked a party at theHall of theSun.Eachrippingattheother,leavingdeepwoundstobeexploitedlater.
âThensubmittointerrogation,Evangeline,andweâllsee,âhefiresback,pointingwithonejeweledhand.
âNodaughterofminewilleverdosuchathing,âVolorumbles,thoughithardly seems a threat. Merely a fact. âShe had no part in this, and shedefended youwith her own life.Without Evangelineâs andmy sonâs quickactionâwell, even to say it is treason.â The old patriarch pulls a frown,wrinklinghiswhiteskin,asifthethoughtissodisgusting.AsifhewouldnâtcelebrateifMavendied.âLonglivetheking.â
In the center of the floor, theHavenwoman snarls, trying to shove offTrio.Heholdsfirm,keepingheronherknees.âYes,longlivetheking!âshesays,glaringatus.âTiberiastheSeventh!Longlivetheking!â
Cal.
Mavenstands,slamminghisfistsagainstthearmsofhisseat.Iexpecttheroomtoburn,butnofirespringstolife.Itcanât.NotwhilehesitsonSilentStone.His eyes are the only thing aflame.And then, slowly,with amanicgrin,hebeginstolaugh.
âAllthisâŠforhim?âhesays,smirking.âMybrothermurderedtheking,our father, helped murder my mother, and now he tries to murder me.Samson, if you would continueââhe inclines his head in his cousinâsdirectionââIhavenomercyorremorsefortraitors.Especiallystupidones.â
The rest turn towatch the interrogation continue, to listen to theHavenwomanasshespoutssecretsofherfaction,theirgoals,theirplans.ToreplaceMavenwithhis brother.TomakeCal king as hewasborn tobe.To returnthingstothewaytheywere.
Throughitall,Istareattheboyonthethrone.Hemaintainshismask.Jawclenched,lipspressedintoathin,unforgivingline.Stillfingers,straightback.But his gazewavers. Something in his eyes has gone far away.And at hiscollar,theslightestgrayflushrises,paintinghisneckandthetipsofhisears.
Heâsterrified.
Forasecond, itmakesmehappy.ThenI rememberâmonstersaremostdangerouswhentheyâreafraid.
ELEVENCameron
Eventhoughitwouldhaveturnedmeintoanicicle,IwantedtostaybehindinTrial.Notoutoffear,buttoproveapoint.Iâmnotsomeweapontobeused,notlikeBarrowallowedherselftobe.Noonegetstotellmewheretogoorwhattodo.Iâmdonewiththat.Iâvelivedmyentirelifethatway.AndeveryinstinctinmetellsmetostayawayfromtheGuardâsoperationinCorvium,afortresscitythatswallowseverysoldierandspitsouttheirbones.
Exceptthatmybrother,Morrey,isonlyafewmilesawaynow,stillfirmlystuckinatrench.Evenwithmyability,Iâllneedhelptogettohim.AndifIwantanythingfromthisstupidGuard,Iâmgoingtohavetostartgivingthemsomethinginreturn.Farleymadethatclearenough.
Ilikeher,morenowaftersheapologizedfortheâutilizingâcomment.Shesayswhatshemeans.Shedoesnâtmope,thoughshehaseveryright.NotlikeCal, who broods around every corner, refusing to help and then relentingwhenhefeelslikeit.Thefallenprinceisexhausting.IdonâtknowhowMarecould standhimor his inability to choose a damned sideâespeciallywhenthereâsonlyone sidehecanpossiblypick.Evennowheblusters,waveringbetweenwanting to protect the Silvers ofCorvium andwanting to tear thecityapart.
âYouneed to control thewalls,â hemutters, standingbeforeFarley andthe Colonel. Weâre operating from our headquarters in Rocasta, a less-defendedsupplycityafewmilesawayfromourobjective.âIfyoucontrolthewalls, you can turn the city inside outâor take the walls down entirely.RenderCorviumuseless.Toeveryone.â
Isit idlyby in thesparse room, listening to theback-and-forth frommyplacenext toAda.Farleyâs idea.Weâre twoof themorevisiblenewbloods,well known to both kinds of Reds. Including us in these meeting sends astrong message to the rest of the unit. Ada watches with wide eyes,memorizing everyword and gesture.UsuallyNannywould sitwith us, butNannyisgone.Shewasasmallwoman,butsheleavesaverylargehole.AndIknowwhosefaultthatis.
MyeyesburnintoCalâsback.I feel the itchofmyability,andfight the
urge tobringhim tohisknees.Heâllkillus forMare,andhewonâtkillhisownfortherestoftheworld.ItwasNannyâschoicetoinfiltrateArcheononherown,buteveryoneknowsitwasnâtheridea.
Farley is just as angry as I am. She can barely look atCal, evenwhenspeakingtohim.âThequestionnowishowtoeffectivelydispatchourown.Wecanâtfocuseveryoneonthewalls,importantastheyare.â
âBymycount, ten thousandRed soldiers occupyCorviumat anygiventime.âIalmostlaughatAdaâshumbleness.Bymycount.Hercountisperfect,and everyoneknows it. âMilitary protocol dictates oneofficer to every ten,giving us at least one thousand Silvers inside the city, not accounting forcommand units and administration. Neutralizing them should be ourobjective.â
Cal crosses his arms, unconvinced even by Adaâs perfect, inarguableintelligence. âIâm not so sure. Our goal is to destroy Corvium, to strikeMavenâs army at its heart. That can be done withoutââhe stumblesââwithoutamassacreonbothsides.â
As ifhecareswhathappens toourside.As ifhecares ifanyoneofusdies.
âHowdoyouplantodestroyacitywithathousandSilverslookingon?âIwonderaloud,knowingIwonâtgetmuchofananswer.âWilltheprinceaskthemtositquietlyandwatch?â
âOfcoursewefightthosewhoresist,âtheColonelbreaksin.HestaresatCal,daringhimtoargue.âAndtheywillresist.Weknowthis.â
âDowe?âCalâs tone is quietly smug. âMembers ofMavenâs own courttriedtokillhimlastweek.IfthereâsdivisionintheHighHouses,thenthereâsdivision in the armed forces. Attacking them outright will only serve as aunifier,inCorviumatleast.â
Myscoffechoesaroundtheroom.âSo,what,wewait?LetMavenlickhiswoundsandregroup?Givehimtimetocatchhisbreath?â
âGivehimtimetohanghimself,âCalsnapsback.Hematchesmyscowl.âGive him time to make even more mistakes. Now heâs on thin ice withPiedmont,hisonlyally,andthreeHighHousesareinopenrebellion.OneofthemallbutcontrolstheAirFleet,anotheravastintelligencenetwork.NottomentionhestillhasusandtheLakelanderstoworryabout.Heâsscared;heâsscrambling.Iwouldnâtwanttobeonhisthronerightnow.â
âIsthattrue?âFarleyasks,hervoicecasual.Butthewordsmovethrough
the room like knives. They sting him. Anyone can see that. His royalteachingsareenoughtokeephisfacestill,buthiseyesbetrayhim.Theyflashinthefluorescentlight.âDonâtlietousandsayyouâreunconcernedwiththeothernewsoutofArcheon.ThereasonLarisandIralandHaventriedtokillyourbrother.â
Hestares.âTheyattemptedacoupbecauseMavenisatyrantwhoabuseshispowerandmurdershisown.â
I slammy fist against the armofmychair.Heâsnotgoing todancehiswayaroundthisone.âTheyrevoltedbecausetheywanttomakeyouking!âIshout. To my surprise, he flinches. Maybe heâs expecting more than justwords.ButIkeepmyabilityincheck,hardasitmaybe.ââLongliveTiberiasthe Seventh.â Thatâs what the assassins said to Maven. Our operatives inWhitefirewereclear.â
He expels a long, frustrated sigh. He seems aged by this conversation.Browfurrowed, jaw tight.Muscles standoutathisneckandhishandscurlintofists.Heâsamachineabouttobreakâorexplode.
âItâs not unexpected,âhemutters, as if itmakes anythingbetter. âTherewasbound to be a succession crisis eventually.But thereâs no feasiblewayanyonecanputmebackonthethrone.â
Farley tips her head. âAnd if they could?âSilently, I cheer her on. ShewonâtlethimoffaseasilyasMareusedto.âIftheyofferedthecrown,yourso-calledbirthright,inexchangeforanendtoallthisâwouldyoutakeit?â
ThefallenprinceofHouseCalorestraightenstolookherdeadintheeye.
âNo.â
HeâsnotasgoodaliarasMareis.
âAsmuchasIhatetoadmitit,hehasapointaboutwaiting.â
IalmostcoughuptheteaFarleypouredme.QuicklyIsetthechippedcupbackdownonher ramshackle table.âYouârenotseriouslysaying that.Howcanyoutrusthim?â
Farley paces back and forth, crossing her tiny room in only a few longsteps.Onehandmassagesherbackasshemoves,workingoutanotherofheraches.Herhair is longereveryday,andshekeeps itbraidedback fromherfaceatoddlengths.Iwouldofferhermyseat,butshedoesnâtliketositmuchthese days. She has to keep moving, for her own comfort and her ownnervousenergy.
âOf course I donât trust him,â she replies, kickingweakly at oneof thepaint-peelingwalls.Herfrustrationrunsashighasheremotions.âButIcantrust things about him. I can trust him to act a certain way where certainpeopleareconcerned.â
âYoumeanMare.âObviously.
âMareandhisbrother.Hisaffectionforoneplaysnicelyoffhishatredfortheother.Itmightbeouronlywaytokeephimaround.â
âIsaylethimgo,lethimrileupafewmoreSilversandbeanotherthorninMavenâsside.Wedonâtneedhimhere.â
Shealmostlaughs,abittersoundnowadays.âYes,IâlljusttellCommandthatwekickedoutourmostwellknownand legitimateoperative.Thatwillgooververywell.â
âHeâsnotevenreallywithusââ
âWell,MareâsnotreallywithMaven,butpeopledonâtseemtounderstandthateither,dothey?âEventhoughsheâsright,Ihavetoscowl.âAslongaswehave Cal, people take notice. No matter how badly we botched that firstattemptatArcheon,westillendedupwithaSilverprinceonourside.â
âAbleedinguselessprince.â
âAnnoying,frustrating,averitablepainintheassâbutnotuseless.â
âOhyeah?WhatâshedoneforuslatelybesidesgetNannykilled?â
âNannywasnâtforcedtogotoArcheon,Cameron.Shemadeachoiceandshedied.Thatâshowitworkssometimes.â
Nurturing as she sounds, Farley isnâtmuch older thanme.Twenty-two,maybe,atmost.Ithinkhermaternalinstinctsarekickinginearly.
âBesidesthefactthathewinsuspointswithless-hostileSilvers,Montforthasaninterestinhim.â
Montfort.ThemysteriousFreeRepublic.Thetwins,RashandTahir,painttheplaceasahavenoflibertyandequality,whereReds,Silvers,andArdentsâwhat theycallnewbloodsâlive inpeace together.Animpossibleplace tobelievein.Butevenso,Ihavetobelieveintheirmoney,theirsupplies,theirsupport.Mostofourresourcescomefromtheminsomeway.
âWhatdotheywant?âIswirltheteainmycup,lettingtheheatwashovermyface.ItâsnotascoldhereasinIrabelle,butwinterstillcreepsthroughtheRocastasafehouse.âAposterboy?â
âSomethinglikethat.ThereâsbeenlotsofchatterwithCommand.Idonâthaveclearanceformostofit.TheywantedMarebutââ
âSheâsabitpreoccupied.â
MentionofMareBarrowdoesnâtaffectFarleyasmuchasthememoryofShade,butaflickerofpainwashesoverherfaceanyway.Shetriestohideit,ofcourse.Farleydoesherbesttoappearimpenetrable,andusuallysheis.
âSothereâsreallynochanceofrescuingher,âIwhisper.Whensheshakesherhead,Ifeelasurprisingpangofsadnessinmyownchest.InfuriatingasMaremightbe,Istillwantherback.Weneedher.Andoverthelongmonths,IâverealizedIneedhertoo.Sheknowswhatitistobedifferentandinsearchofsomeonelikeyou,tofearandbefearedinthesamemeasure.Evenifshewasacondescendingtwitmostofthetime.
Farleystopspacingtopourherselfanothercupoftea.Itsteams,fillingtheroomwithahot,herbalscent.Shetakesitinhandbutdoesnâtdrink,crossinginsteadtothefoggywindowsethighinherwall.Itbleedsdaylight.âIdonâtseehowwecanwithwhatwehave.InfiltrationofCorviumiseasycomparedto Archeon. It would take a full-scale assault, the kind we canât muster.Especially now, after Nanny and an assassination attempt. Security atMavenâscourtwillbeatitshighestâworsethanaprison.UnlessâŠâ
âUnless?â
âCaltellsustowait.TolettheSilversinCorviumturnoneachother.ToletMavenmakehismistakesbeforewedoanythingelse.â
âAnditwillhelpMaretoo.â
Farleynods. âTheweak,dividedcourtofaparanoidkingwillbeeasierforhertoescape.âShesighs,staringatheruntouchedtea.âSheâstheonlyonewhocansaveherselfnow.â
Theconversationiseasyto twist.AsmuchasIwantMareback,Iwantsomeoneelsemore.âHowmanymilesarewefromtheChoke?â
âThisagain?â
âThisalways.âIpushbackfromthetabletogetup.IfeellikeIshouldbestanding. Iâm just as tall asFarley,but shealways seems like sheâs lookingdown at me. Iâm young, untrained. I donât know much about the worldoutside my slum. But that doesnât mean Iâm going to sit here and followorders.âIâmnotasking foryourhelpor theGuardâs. I justneedamapandmaybeagun.Iâlldothebleedingrestmyself.â
Shedoesnâtblink. âCameron,yourbrother is embedded ina legion. Itâsnotlikepullingoutatooth.â
My fist clenches atmy side. âYou think I came all theway here to sitaround andwatchCal spin hiswheels?â Itâs an old argument by now. Sheeasilyshutsmedown.
âWell,Icertainlydonâtthinkyoucameallthewayheretogetkilled,âsherepliescalmly.Herbroadshouldersrisejusta little, inchallenge.âWhich ispreciselywhatwill happen, nomatter how strongor deadlyyour ability is.AndevenifyoutakeadozenSilverswithyou,Iâmnotgoingtoletyoudiefornothing.Isthatclear?â
âMybrother isnotnothing,â Igrumble.Sheâs right,but Idonâtwant toadmitit.Instead,Iavoidhereyesandturntothewall.Myfingerspickatthepeeling paint, ripping away pieces in annoyance. A childish thing, but itmakesmefeelabitbetter.âYouârenotmycaptain.Youdonâtgettotellmewhattodowithmylife.â
âThatâstrue.Iâmjustafriendwhofeelsinclinedtopointsomethingout.âIhearhershift,herfootstepsheavyonthecreakingfloor.Buthertouchislight,abrushofherhandonmyshoulder.Sheâsroboticinthemovement,notreallyknowing how to comfort another person. Bleakly, I wonder how she andwarm,smilingShadeBarroweversharedaconversation, letaloneabed.âIrememberwhatyoutoldMare.Whenwefirstfoundyou.Onthejet,yousaidthathersearchfornewbloods,tosavethem,waswrong.Acontinuationoftheblooddivide.FavoringonekindofRedoveranother.Andyouwereright.â
âThisisnotthesame.Ijustwanttosavemybrother.â
âHowdoyouthinktherestofusgothere?âshescoffs.âTosaveafriend,a sibling, aparent.Tosaveourselves.Weall camehere for selfish reasons,Cameron.Butwecanâtbedistractedbythem.Wehavetothinkofthecause.Thegreatergood.Andyoucandosomuchmorehere,withus.WecanâtloseyouâŠâ
Too.We canât lose you too. The lastword hangs in the air, unspoken. Ihearitanyway.
âYouârewrong.Ididnâtcomeherebychoice.Iwastaken.MareBarrowforcedmetofollow,andyouallwentalongwithit.â
âCameron, thatâs a cardyouhaveplayed toomany times.You chose tostayalongtimeago.Youchosetohelp.â
âAndwhatwouldyouchoosenow,Farley?âIglareather.Shemaybemy
friend,butthatdoesnâtmeanIhavetobackdown.
âExcuseme?â
âWouldyouchoosethegreatergood?OrwouldyouchooseShade?â
When she doesnât respond, her eyes sliding out of focus, I have myanswer.IrealizeIdonâtwanttoseehercryandturnmyback,makingforthedoor.
âIhavetotrain,âIsaytonoone.Idoubtsheâsstilllistening.
Training is harder in theRocasta safehouse.Wedonât have anywherenearenough space, not to mention most of the operatives I know were left inIrabelle.Kilorn,forexample.Eagerasheis,heâsnowherenearreadyforall-outbattle,andhedoesnâthaveanabilitytoleanon.Hewasleftbehind.Butmytrainerwasnot.Afterall,sheâsSilver,andtheColonelwasnâtabouttoletheroutofhissight.
SaraSkonoswaitsinthebasementofourreinforcedwarehouse,inaroomdedicated to newblood exercises. Itâs dinnertime, so theother newbloods inthisparticularsanctuaryareupstairseatingwiththerest.Wehavethespacetoourselves,notthatweneedmuchspaceatall.
She sits cross-legged, palms flat on a concrete floor that matches theconcretewalls.Hernotepadistheretoo,readytobeusedifneedbe.Hereyestrackmy entrance, the only greeting Iâll get.As of yet,we have not foundanotherskinhealertojoinus,andsheremainsmute.EventhoughIâmusedtoit, the sightofher sunkencheeks andmissing tonguemakesmecringe.Asusual,shepretendsnottonoticeandgesturestothespaceinfrontofher.
Isitassheinstructs,andfightthefamiliarurgetorunorattack.
SheâsSilver.SheâseverythingIâvebeenraisedtofear,hate,andobey.ButIcanâtfinditinmyselftodespiseSaraSkonosthewayIdoJulianorCal.ItâsnotthatIpityher.IthinkâŠIunderstandher.Iunderstandthefrustrationofknowingwhat is right and being ignored or punished because of it. I canâtcounthowmanytimesIreceivedhalfrationsforlookingataSilveroverseerincorrectly.Fortalkingoutofturn.Shedidthesame,exceptherwordswereagainstareigningqueen.Andsoherwordsweretakenawayforever.
Eventhoughshecanâtspeak,Sarahasawayofcommunicatingwhatshewants. She tapsme on the knee, forcingme tomeet her cloudy gray eyes.Thenshedipsherfaceandputsahandoverherheart.
I follow the motions, knowing what she wants. I match her breathing:
steady, deep breaths in even succession. A calming mechanism that helpsdrown out all the thoughts swirling around my head. It clears my mind,allowingmetofeelwhatIusuallyignore.Myabilityhumsbeneathmyskin,constant as always, but now I let myself notice it. Not to use it, but toacknowledgeitsexistence.Mysilenceisstillnewtome,andIhavetogettoknowitlikeanyotherskill.
After longminutesofbreathing,shetapsmeagain,makingmelookup.Thistimeshepointsatherself.
âSara,Iâmreallynotintherightmood,âIstarttotellher,butshedrawsonehandthroughtheairinachoppingmotion.Shutup,plainasday.
âImeanit.Icouldhurtyou.â
Shescoffsdeep inher throat,oneof theonly truevocalizationsshecanmake.Italmostsoundslikelaughter.Thenshetapsherlips,smirkingdarkly.Sheâsbeenhurtfarworse.
âFine, I warned you,â I sigh. I wiggle a little, settling deeper into myposition. Then I furrow my brow, letting the ability swim around me,deepening,expanding.Untilittouchesher.Andsilencedescends.
Hereyeswidenwhenithits.Atwingeatfirst.At leastIhopeitâs justatwinge. Iâm only practicing, and I donât intend to pummel her intosubmission. I think of Mare, able to call up storms, while Cal can makeinfernos, but both find it difficult to have a simple conversation withoutexploding.Controltakesmorepracticethanbruteforce.
My ability deepens, and she holds up one finger to denote the level ofdiscomfort. I try to keep the silence in place, constant but steady. Itâs likeholdingbackatide.Idonâtknowwhatitfeelsliketobesilenced.TheSilentStonedidnâtworkonmeinCorrosPrison,butitstifled,drainedâandslowlykilledâallthepeoplearoundme.Icandothesame.Afteraboutaminute,sheputsupasecondfinger.
âSaraâŠ?â
Withherotherhandshegesturesformetocontinue.
Irememberoursessionyesterday.Shewasontheflooratfive,thoughIknewIcouldpushharder.But incapacitatingouronlyskinhealer isneithersmartnorsomethingIwanttodo.
A flush paints her cheeks, but the door to the basement swings openbeforeshecanholdupanotherfinger.
Myconcentrationandmysilencebreak,drawingarelievedgaspfromher.Bothofuswhirl to faceourdisrupter.Whileshebreaks intoa raresmile, Iscowl.
âJacos,â I mutter in his direction. âWeâre training, in case you havenâtnoticed.â
Onesideofhismouthtwitches,beggingtopull intoasneerofhisown,but Julian refrains. Like the rest of us, he looks better here in Rocasta.Supplies are easier to come by. Our clothes are higher quality, quilted andlinedagainstthecold.Thefoodisheartier,theroomswarmer.Julianâscolorhas returned, and his gray-flecked hair looks glossier. Heâs Silver. He wasborntothrive.
âOh, how foolish ofme. I thought youwere down here sitting on coldconcrete for the funof it,âhe replies.Clearlyno love lostbetweenus.Saraglares at him, aweak reproach, but it softens him anyway. âMy apologies,Cameron,âheaddsquickly.âIjustwantedtotellSarasomething.â
Sara quirks an eyebrow, a question.When I get up to go, she stopsmeand,withadipofherhead,asksJuliantocontinue.Healwaysobeyswheresheisconcerned.
âThereâs been an exodus from court.Maven expelled dozens of nobles,mostlyhisfatherâsoldadvisersandthosewhomightstillharborloyaltiestoCal. Itâs⊠I didnât believe the intelligence report at first. Iâve never seenanythinglikeitbefore.â
JulianandSaraholdeachotherâsgaze,bothponderingwhatthismeans.IdonâtcareatallaboutafewSilverlordsandladies,oldfriendsofJulianandSaraâs.âAndMare?âIwonderaloud.
âSheâsstillthere,stillaprisoner.AndanyfurtherfractureswemayhaveexpectedfromtherebellinghousesâŠâHesighs,shakinghishead.âMavenisalreadyatwar,andnowhepreparesforastorm.â
Ishiftonthefloor,movingmyweightintoamorecomfortableposition.Heâs right. Cold concrete isnât pleasant. Good thing Iâm used to it. âWealreadyknewrescuingherwasimpossible.Whatelsedoesthisdoforus?â
âWell, itâs good and itâs bad. More enemies for Maven give us moreopportunity to work beyond his reach. But heâs closing ranks, retreatingfurtherintohisenclaveofprotection.Weâllnevergettohimpersonally.â
Next tome, Sara hums low in her throat. She canât saywhatweâre allthinking,soIdo.
âOrtoMare.â
Juliannodswithsoberingeyes.
âHowisyourtrainingcomingalong?â
Hechangestopicswithwhiplashspeed,andIstutteroutareply.
âAsâasgoodasitcan.Wedonâthavemanyteachershere.â
âBecauseyourefusetotrainwithmynephew.â
âThe others can,â I say, not bothering to keep the bite frommy voice.âButIcanâtpromiseIwonâtkillhim,soitâsbetterIdonâttemptmyself.â
Sara tsks,but Julianbrushesheroffwithawaveofhishand.âItâs fine,really.YoumaythinkIdonâtunderstand,thatIcanâtunderstandyourpointofview,andyouâreright.ButIâmcertainlydoingmybesttotry,Cameron.âHetakesadaringsteptowardus,stillcross-leggedonthefloor.Idonâtlikeitonebit andscramble tomy feet, lettingmydefensive instincts takeover. If IâmgoingtobethisclosetoJulianJacos,Iwanttobeready.âThereâsnoneedtobeafraidofme,Ipromiseyou.â
âSilver promises mean nothing.â I donât have to snap. The words areharshenough.
Tomysurprise,Juliansmiles.But theexpressionishollow,empty.âOh,donât Iknowthat,âhemutters,more tohimselfandSara.âHoldon toyouranger.Saramightnotagree,but itwillhelpyoumorethananythingelse, ifyoucanlearntoharnessit.â
AsmuchasIdonâtwantadvicefromsuchaman,Icanâthelpbuttuckitaway.He trainedMare. Iâd be stupid to deny he can helpmy ability grow.AndangerissomethingIhaveinspades.
âAnyothernews?âIask.âFarleyandtheColonelseemtobestalling,oryournephewisstallingthem.â
âYes,itseemsheis.â
âOdd.Thoughthewasalwaysupforafight.â
Julian offers that strange smile again. âCalwas raised towar the sameway you were raised to machines. But you donât want to go back to thefactory,doyou?â
Ananswer,anyanswer,sticksinmythroat.Iwasaslave;Iwasforced;itwasallIknew.
âDonâtgetsmartwithme,Julianâgrindsoutinstead,searingbetweenmyclenchedteeth.
Heonly shrugs. âIâm trying tounderstandyourperspective.Doabit tounderstandhis.â
On another day, I might storm from the room, angry, defensive. Findsolace inabroken fuse,a strippedwire. I sitbackdown instead, takingmyplace next to Sara. Julian Jacos will not send me scurrying away like ascoldedchild.Iâvedealtwithoverseersfarworsethanhim.
âIwatchedbabiesdiewithoutseeingthesun.Withoutbreathingfreshair.Slavestoyourkind.Haveyou?Whenyouhave,thenyoucanlecturemeonperspective, Lord Jacos.â I turn from him. âLetme knowwhen the princefinallypicksaside.Andifhepickstherightone.â
ThenInodatSara.âReadytogoagain?â
TWELVEMare
Monthsago,whentheSilversfledtheHalloftheSun,frightenedbyaScarletGuardattackon theirpreciousball, itwasaunitedact.We left together, asone,headingdownriverinsuccessiontoregroupinthecapital.Thisisnotthesame.
Mavenâsdismissalscomeinpacks.Iâmnotprivytothem,butInoticeasthenumbersdwindle.Afewolderadvisersmissing.Theroyaltreasurer,somegenerals,membersofvariouscouncils.Relievedoftheirposts,therumorssay.ButIknowbetter.TheywereclosetoCal,closetohisfather.Mavenissmartnottotrustthem,andruthlessintheirremoval.Hedoesnâtkillthemormakethemdisappear.Heâsnotstupidenoughtotriggeranotherhousewar.Butitâsadecisivemove,tosaytheleast.Sweepingawayobstacleslikepiecesfromachess board. The results are feasts that look like mouths of missing teeth.Gapsappear,morewitheverypassingday.Mostofthoseaskedtoleaveareolder, men and women with ancient allegiances, who remember more andtrusttheirnewkingless.
SomestarttocallittheCourtofChildren.
Manylordsandladiesaregone,sentawaybytheking,buttheirsonsanddaughtersareleftbehind.Arequest.Awarning.Athreat.
Hostages.
Not even House Merandus escapes his growing paranoia. Only HouseSamos remains in their entirety, not one of them falling prey to histempestuousdismissals.
Thosestillherearedevout in their loyalty.Orat least theymake it looklikeit.
Thatâsprobablywhyhesummonsmemorenow.WhyIseesomuchofhim. Iâm the only one with loyalties he can trust. The only one he reallyknows.
He reads reportsoverourbreakfast, eyes skimmingbackand forthwithblisteringspeed.Itâsuselesstotrytoseewhattheyare.Heâscarefultokeepthemtohissideofthetable,turnedoverwhenfinished,andwelloutofmy
reach.Insteadofreadingthereports,Ihavetoreadhim.HedoesnâtbothertosurroundhimselfwithSilentStone,nothereinhisprivatediningroom.EventheSentinelswaitoutside,postedateverydoorandontheothersideof thetallwindows. I see them, but they canât hear us, as isMavenâs design.Hisuniform jacket is unbuttoned, his hair unkempt, and he doesnât put on hiscrown this early in themorning. I think this is his little sanctuary, a placewherehecantrickhimselfintofeelingsafe.
HealmostlooksliketheboyIimagined.Asecondprince,contentwithhisplace,unburdenedbyacrownthatwasneverhis.
Over the rimofmywaterglass, Iwatchevery tick and flashacrosshisface. Narrowed eyes, a tightening jaw. Bad news. The dark circles havereturned,andwhileheeatsenoughfortwopeople,tearingthroughtheplatesinfrontofus,heseemsthinnedbythedays.Iwonderifhehasnightmaresofthe assassination attempt.Nightmares of hismother, dead bymy hand.Hisfather,deadbyhisaction.Hisbrother, inexilebutaconstant threat.Funny,Maven called himself Calâs shadow, but Cal is the shadow now, hauntingeverycornerofMavenâsfragilekingdom.
Therearereportsoftheexiledprinceeverywhere,soprevalentthatevenIhear about them. They place him in Harbor Bay, Delphie, Rocasta; thereâseven shaky intelligence hinting that he escaped across the border into theLakelands.Ihonestlydonâtknowwhich,ifany,oftheserumorsaretrue.HecouldbeinMontfortforallIknow.Gonetothesafetyofafarawayland.
Eventhoughthis isMavenâspalace,Mavenâsworld, IseeCal in it.Theimmaculate uniforms, drilling soldiers, flaming candles, gilded walls ofportraitsandhousecolors.Anemptysalonremindsmeofdancelessons.IfIglance at Maven from the corner of my eye, I can pretend. Theyâre halfbrothersafterall.Theysharesimilarfeatures.Thedarkhair,theelegantlinesofaroyalface.ButMavenispaler,sharper,askeletonincomparison,bodyandsoul.Heishollowedout.
âYou stare so much I wonder if you can read reflections in my eyes,âMavensuddenlymusesaloud.Heflipsthepageinfrontofhim,hidingwhatitholds,ashelooksup.
His attempt to startle me fails. Instead, I continue spreading anembarrassingamountofbutterontomytoast.âIfonlyIcouldseesomethinginthem,âIreply,meaningallthings.âYouâreanemptyboy.â
Hedoesnâtflinch.âAndyouâreuseless.â
Irollmyeyesandidlytapmymanaclesagainstthebreakfasttable.Metal
andstonerapagainstwoodlikeknockingonadoor.âOurtalksaresofun.â
âIfyoupreferyourroomâŠ,âhewarns.Anotheremptythreathemakeseveryday.Webothknowthisisbetterthanthealternative.AtleastnowIcanpretendIâmdoingsomethingofuse,andhecanpretendheisnâtentirelyaloneinthiscagehebuiltforhimself.Forbothofus.
Itâshardtosleephere,evenwiththemanacles,whichmeansIhavealotoftimetothink.
Andplan.
Julianâsbooksarenotonlyacomfort,buta tool.Heâsstill teachingme,eventhoughweârewhoknowshowmanymilesapart. Inhiswell-preservedtexts, there are new lessons to be learned andutilized.The firstâandmostimportantâisdivideandconquer.Mavenâsalreadydoneittome.NowImustreturnthefavor.
âAreyoueventryingtohuntforJon?â
Maven is actually startled at my question, the first mention of thenewbloodwhousedtheassassinationattempttoescape.AsfarasIknow,hehasnâtbeencaptured.Partofmeisbitter.JonescapedwhereIcouldnât.Butatthesametime,Iâmglad.JonisaweaponIwantfarawayfromMavenCalore.
Afterasplit-secondrecovery,Mavenreturnstoeating.Heshovesapieceofbaconinhismouth,throwingetiquettetothewind.âYouandIbothknowthatâsnotamanwhoiseasilyfound.â
âButyouarelooking.â
âHe had knowledge of an attack on his king and did nothing,âMavenstates,matter-of-fact.âThatâstantamounttomurderitself.Forallweknow,heconspiredwithHousesIral,Haven,andLaristoo.â
âIdoubtit.Ifheâdhelpedthem,theywouldhavesucceeded.Pity.â
Hedutifullyignoresthejab,continuingtoreadandeat.
I tipmy head, lettingmy dark hair spill across one shoulder. The grayends are spreading, leaching upward despitemy healerâs best efforts. EvenHouseSkonoscannothealwhatisalreadydead.
âJonsavedmylife.â
Blueeyesmeetmine,holdingfirm.
âSeconds before the attack, he gotmy attention. Hemademe turnmyhead.OrelseâŠâIrunafingeralongmycheekbone.Wherethebulletonly
grazedmycheek,insteadofleavingmyskullaruin.Thewoundhealed,butnotforgotten.âImusthaveaparttoplayinwhateverfuturehesees.â
Maven focuses onmy face. Notmy eyes, but the placewhere a bulletwouldhaveobliteratedmyskull.âForsomereason,youâreadifficultpersontoletdie.â
Forhim,forthepageantry,Iforceasmall,bitterlaugh.
âWhatâssofunny?â
âHowmanytimeshaveyoutriedtokillme?â
âJusttheonce.â
âAnd the sounder was what?âMy fingers tremble at the memory. Thepainofthedeviceisstillfreshinmymind.âJustpartofagame?â
Another report flutters in the sunlight, landing facedown. He licks hisfingers before raising the next. All business. All for show. âThe sounderwasnât designed to kill you, Mare. Just incapacitate you, if need be.â Astrange look crosses his face.Almost smug, but not exactly. âI didnât evenmakethatthing.â
âClearly.Youârenotoneforideas.Elara,then?â
âActuallyitwasCal.â
Oh. Before I can stopmyself, I look down, away from him, needing amomentofmyown.Thestingofbetrayalpricksatmyinsides,ifonlyforasecond.Itâsnousebeingangrynow.
âIcanâtbelievehedidnâttellyou.âMavenpresseson.âHeâsusuallyveryproudofhimself.Abrilliantthingtoo.ButIdonâtcareforit.Ihadthedevicedestroyed.â His eyes are on my face. Hungry for a reaction. I keep myexpression from changing, despite the sudden skip in my heartbeat. Thesounderisgone.Anothersmallgift,anothermessagefromtheghost.
âIt can easily be rebuilt, though, if you decide to stop cooperating.CalwaskindenoughtoleavethedeviceplansbehindwhenheranoffwithyourbandofRedrats.â
âEscaped,â I mumble.Move on. Donât let him throw you off. Feigningdisinterest,Ipushtherestofmyfoodaroundmyplate.Idomybesttolookhurt,asMavenwantsmetobe,butnotletmyselffeelit.Ihavetosticktotheplan.TwisttheconversationasIwanttotwistit.âYouforcedhimaway.Allsoyoucouldtakehisplace,andbeexactlylikehim.â
Likeme,Mavenforcesalaughtohidehowannoyedheis.âYouhavenoideawhathewouldâvebeenlike,withthecrownonhishead.â
Icrossmyarms,settlingbackinmychair.ThisisplayingoutexactlyasIwant it to. âI know he would have married Evangeline Samos, continuedfighting auselesswar, andkept ignoring a country full of angry, oppressedpeople.Doesthatsoundatallfamiliar?â
Hemaybeasnakeinhumanform,butevenMavendoesnâthavearetortforthat.Heslapsdownthereportinfrontofhim.Tooquickly.Itfacesup,justfora second,beforehe turns itover. Iglimpseonlya fewwords.Corvium.Casualties.Mavenseesmeseethem,andhehissesoutasighofannoyance.
âAsifthatwillhelpyou,âhesaysquietly.âYouârenotgoinganywhere,sowhybother?â
âIsupposethatâstrue.Mylifeprobablywonâtlastmuchlonger.â
Hetipshishead.Concernfurrowshisbrow,asIhopeitwill.AsIneeditto.âWhatmakesyousaythat?â
Iglareupattheceiling,studyingtheelaboratemoldingandthechandelieraboveus.Itflickerswithtinyelectricbulbs.IfonlyIcouldfeelthem.
âYouknowEvangelinewonâtletmelive.OncesheâsqueenâŠIâmdonefor.â My voice trembles, and I push all my fear into the words. I hope itworks.Hehastobelieveme.âItâswhatsheâswantedsincethedayIfellintoherlife.â
Heblinksatme.âYoudonâtthinkIâllprotectyoufromher?â
âIdonâtthinkyoucan.âMyfingerspickatmygown.Notasbeautifulastheonesmadeforcourt,butjustasoverwrought.âYouandIbothknowhoweasyitisforaqueentobekilled.â
Theair rippleswithheatashecontinues tostare,daringmetomeethisgaze.Mynaturalinstinctistoglareback,butIleanaway,refusingtolookathim.Itwillonlyincensehimfurther.Mavenlovesanaudience.Themomentstretches,andIfeelbarebeforehim,preyinthepathofapredator.ThatâsallIamhere.Caged,restrained,leashed.AllIhaveleftismyvoice,andthepiecesofMavenIhopeIknow.
âShewonâttouchyou.â
âAnd what about the Lakelanders?â I snapmy head back up. Tears ofanger spring tomyeyes,bornof frustration,not fear. âWhen they ripapartyouralready-splinteringkingdom?Whathappenswhentheywinthisendless
warandburnyourworldtoembers?âIscofftomyself,heavingashudderingbreath.Thetearsfallfreelynow.Theymust.Ihavetosellthiswitheveryinchofmyself.âIguessthenweâllendupintheBowlofBonestogether,executedsidebyside.â
Bythewayhepales,thelittlecolorhehasdrainingfromhisface,Iknowheâsthoughtthesamething.Itplagueshimendlessly,ableedingwound.SoItwisttheknife.
âYouâreon theedgeofcivilwar.Even Iknow that.Whatâs thepoint inpretending thereâs a scenario where I make it out of this alive? EitherEvangelinekillsmeorthewardoes.â
âItoldyoualready,Iwonâtletthathappen.â
The snarl I throwhiswaydoesnât need tobe faked. âInwhat life can Itrustanythingoutofyourmoutheveragain?â
Whenhestands,thecoldfearpoolinginmystomachisnâtfakeeither.Ashe rounds the table, crossing to me in lean, elegant strides, I lock everymuscle,tensingupsoIdonâtshake.ButIquiveranyway.Ibracemyselfforablowashetakesmyfaceindisturbinglysofthands,boththumbstightundermyjaw,inchesawayfromdiggingintomyjugular.
Hiskissburnsworsethanhisbrand.
Thesensationofhis lipsonmine is theworstkindofviolation.But forhim,forwhatIneed,Ikeepmyhandsfistedinmylap.Mynailsdigintomyfleshinsteadofhis.Heneedstobelieveashisbrotherbelieved.Heneedstochooseme,thewayItriedtomakeCalchoosemebefore.Still,Icanâtfinditinmetoopenmymouth,andmyjawremainslockedshut.
Hebreaksthekissfirst,andIhopehecanâtfeelmyskincrawlbeneathhisfingers.Instead,hiseyessearchmine,lookingforthelieIkeepwellhidden.
âIlosteveryotherpersonIeverloved.â
âAndwhosefaultisthat?â
Somehow,hetremblesworsethanIdo.Hestepsback,lettingmego,andhisfingersscratchatoneanother.IâmshockedbecauseIrecognizetheaction.Ido it too.When thepain inmyhead is sohorrible Ineedanotherkind todrawmeaway.Hestopswhenhenoticesmestaring,claspingbothhandstohissidesastightlyashecan.
âShebrokea lotofmyhabits,âheadmits.âNeverbrokethatone.Somethingsalwayscomeback.â
âShe.âElara.Iseeherhandiworkrightinfrontofme.Theboysheshapedintoakingthroughatortureshecalledlove.
Hesitsbackdown,slowly.Ikeepstaring,knowingitunsettleshim.Iputhimoffbalance,andstillIdonâtunderstandexactlywhy.
EveryotherpersonIeverloved.
I donât know why Iâm included in that statement. But I know itâs thereasonIâmstillbreathing.Careful,IedgetheconversationbacktoCal.
âYourbrotherisalive.â
âUnfortunatelyso.â
âAndyoudonâtlovehim?â
Hedoesnâtbothertolookup,buthiseyeswaveronthenextreport,fixedon a single spot. Not because heâs surprised, or even sad. He looks moreconfused than anything, a little boy trying to solve a puzzlewith toomanymissingpieces.âNo,âhesaysfinally,lying.
âIdonâtbelieveyou,âItellhim.Ievenshakemyhead.
BecauseIrememberthemastheywere.Brothers,friends,raisedtogetheragainst the rest of the world. Even Maven canât shut himself off fromsomethinglikethat.EvenElaracanâtbreakthatkindofbond.NomatterhowmanytimesMaventriedtokillCal,hecanâtdenywhattheywereonce.
âBelievewhatyouwant,Mare,âhereplies.Asbefore,heputsonanairofdisinterest, violently trying to convince me this means nothing to him. âIknowforafactthatIdonâtlovemybrother.â
âDonâtlie.Ihavesiblingstoo.Itâsacomplicatedthing,especiallybetweenme and my sister. Sheâs always been more talented, better at everything,kinder,smarter.Everyoneprefershertome.âImumblemyoldfears,spinningthemintoawebforMaven.âTakeitfromapersonwhoknows.Losingoneofthemâlosing a brother âŠâ My breath hitches, and my mind flies. Keepgoing.Usethepain.âIthurtslikenothingelse.â
âShade.Right?â
âKeephisnameoutofyourmouth,âIsnap,forgettingforamomentwhatIâmtryingtodo.Thewoundistoofresh,tooraw.Hetakesitinstride.
âMymothersaidyouused todreamabouthim,âhesays. I flinchat thememory,andthethoughtofherinsidemybrain.Icanstillfeelher,clawingatthewallsofmyskull.âButIsupposethosewerenâtdreamsatall.Itwasreally
him.â
âDid she do thatwith everyone?â I reply. âWas nothing safe from her?Evenyourdreams?â
Hedoesnâtrespond.Ipushharder.
âDidyoueverdreamofme?â
AgainIcuthimwithoutrealizingit.Hedropshisgaze,lookingdowntotheemptyplateinfrontofhim.Heraisesahandtograbathiswaterglass,butthinks better of it.His fingers tremble for a second before he shoves themaway,outofsight.
âIwouldnâtknow,âhefinallysays.âIdonâtdream.â
Iscoff.âThatâsimpossible.Evenforapersonlikeyou.â
Somethingdark,somethingsad,twitchesacrosshisface.Hisjawtightensandhisthroatbobs,tryingtoswallowwordsheshouldnâtspeak.Theyburstfromhimanyway.Hishandsreappear,tappingweaklyonthetable.
âI used to havenightmares.She took that part awaywhen Iwas a boy.Like Samson said, my mother was a surgeon with minds. She cut outwhateverdidnâtsuit.â
Inrecentweeks,aferocious,fieryangerhasreplacedthecoldhollownessIusedtofeel.ButasMavenspeaks, theicereturns.Itbleedsthroughme,apoison,aninfection.Idonâtwanttohearwhathehastosay.Hisexcusesandexplanationsarenothingtome.Heisamonsterstill,amonsteralways.Andyet I canât stopmyself from listening.Because I couldbeamonster too. Ifgiventhewrongchance.Ifsomeonebrokeme,likeheisbroken.
âMybrother.My father. Iknow I loved themonce. I remember it.âHishandsclencharoundabutterknife,andheglaresatthedulledge.Iwonderifhewantstouseitonhimselforhisdeadmother.âButIdonâtfeelit.Thatloveisnâtthereanymore.Foranyofthem.Formostthings.â
âThenwhykeepmehere?Ifyoudonâtfeelanything.Whynotjustkillmeandbedonewiththis?â
âShe has a hard time erasing ⊠certain kinds of feeling,â he admits,meetingmyeye.âShetriedtodoitwithFather,tomakehimforgethisloveforCoriane. Itonlymade thingsworse.Besides,âhemumbles,âshealwayssaid it was better to be heartbroken. The pain makes you stronger. Lovemakesyouweak.Andsheâsright.IlearnedthatbeforeIevenknewyou.â
Anothernamelingersintheair,unspoken.
âThomas.â
Aboyat thewar front.AnotherRed lost to auselesswar.My first realfriend,Maven toldmeonce. I realizenow thespacesbetween thosewords.Thethingsunsaid.Helovedthatboyasheclaimstoloveme.
âThomas,âMavenechoes.Hisgripontheknifetightens.âIfeltâŠâThenhisbrowfurrows,deepcreases formingbetweenhiseyes.Heputshisotherhandtohistemple,massaginganacheIcanâtunderstand.âShewasnâtthere.She never met him. She didnât know. He wasnât even a soldier. It was anaccident.â
âYousaidyoutriedtosavehim.Thatyourguardsstoppedyou.â
âAn explosion at headquarters. The reports said it was Lakelanderinfiltration.â Somewhere, a clock ticks as theminutes slide by. His silencestretches as he decides what to say, how far to let the mask slip. But itâsalreadygone.Heâsbare as he canonlybewithme. âWewere alone. I lostcontrol.â
Iseeitinmymindâseye,fillinginwhathecanâtwillhimselftotellme.Anammunitionsdepotmaybe.Orevenagas line.Bothneedonly flame tokill.
âIdidnâtburn.Hedid.â
âMavenââ
âEven my mother could not cut that memory away. Even she couldnâtmakemeforget,nomatterhowIbeggedherto.Iwantedhertotakethatpainfromme,andshetriedsomanytimes.Instead,italwaysgotworse.â
Iknowhowheâsgoingtoanswermyquestion,butIaskallthesame.
âPleaseletmego?â
âIwonât.â
âThenyouâregoingtoletmedietoo.Likehim.â
Theroomcrackleswithheat,sendingsweatdownmyspine.Hestandssoquickly,heknocksbackhischair,lettingitcrashtothefloor.Onefistcollideswiththetabletopbeforerakingsideways,throwingplates,glasses,andreportsto thefloor.Thepapersfloat foramoment,suspendedinairbeforedriftingdowntotheshatteredpileofcrystalandporcelain.
âIwonât,âhegrowlsunderhisbreath,solowIalmostdonâthearhimashestalksfromtheroom.
TheArvensenterandseizemebeneathmyarms,pullingmeawayfromthetableofpapers,allofthemslippingfromreach.
Iâmsurprised to learn thatMavenâsusuallymeticulousscheduleofhearingsand court gatherings is suspended for the rest of the day. I guess ourconversationhadastrongereffectthanIexpected.Hisabsenceconfinesmetomyroom, toJulianâsbooks. I forcemyself to read, ifonly toblockoutanymemoriesofthemorning.Mavenisatalentedliar,andIdonâttrustasinglewordhespeaks.Evenifhewastellingthetruth.Evenifheisaproductofhismotherâs meddling, a thorned flower forced to grow a certain way. Thatdoesnâtchangethings.Icanâtforgeteverythingheâsdonetomeandsomanyothers.WhenI firstmethim,Iwasseducedbyhispain.Hewas theboy inshadow, a forgotten son. I sawmyself in him. Second always to Gisa, thebrightstarinmyparentsâworld.Iknownowthatwasbydesign.Hecaughtmebackthen,ensnaringmeinaprinceâstrap.NowIâminakingâscage.Butsoishe.MychainsareSilentStone.Hisisthecrown.
The country of Norta was forged from smaller kingdoms andlordships, ranging in size from theSamoskingdomof theRift to thecity-state Delphie. Caesar Calore, a Silver lord of Archeon and atalentedtactician,unitedfracturedNortaagainsttheloomingthreatofjoint invasion by Piedmont and the Lakelands. Once he crownedhimselfking,hemarriedhisdaughterJulianatoGarionSavanna,therulinghighprinceofPiedmont.Thisactcementeda lastingalliancebetweenHouseCaloreandtheprincesofPiedmont.ManychildrenofCalore and Piedmont royalty upheld the marriage alliance for thefollowing centuries. King Caesar brought an age of prosperity toNorta,and as such,Nortan calendars consider the beginning of hisreignthedemarcationoftheâNewEra,âorNE.
Ittakesmethreetriestogetthroughtheparagraph.Julianâshistoriesaremuchdenser thanwhat Ihad to learn in school.My thoughtskeepdrifting.Blackhair,blueeyes.TearsMavenrefusestoshow,eventome.Isitanotherperformance?WhatdoIdoifitis?WhatdoIdoifitisnât?Myheartbreaksforhim;myhearthardensagainsthim.Ipushontoavoidsuchthoughts.
In contrast, relations between newly founded Norta and theextensiveLakelandsdeteriorated.Followinga series of borderwarswith Prairie in the second century NE, the Lakelands lost vitalagriculturalterritoryintheMinnowanregionaswellascontroloftheGreatRiver(alsoknownastheMiss).Taxationfollowingthewar,aswellasthethreatoffamineandRedrebellion,forcedexpansionalong
the Nortan border. Skirmishes sparked on either side. To preventfurtherbloodshed,KingTiberiastheThirdofNortaandKingOnekadCygnet of theLakelandsmet in a historic summit at the crossing ofMaiden Falls. Negotiations fell apart quickly, and in 200 NE, bothkingdomsdeclaredwar,eachblamingtheotherforthebreakdownintheirdiplomaticrelations.
Icanâthelpbutlaugh.Nothingeverchanges.
KnownastheLakelanderWarinNorta,andtheAggressionintheLakelands, the conflict is still ongoing at the time of writing. TotalSilverdeathtollsnumberapproximatelyfivehundredthousand,mostin the firstdecadeofwar.Accurate records forRedsoldiersarenotkept, but estimates put the total death toll in excess of fiftymillion,with casualties more than twice that number. Both Lakelander andNortan casualties are equal in proportion to their native Redpopulations.
IttakeslongerthanIcaretoadmit,butIscratchoutthemathinmyhead.Almostonehundredtimesmore.IfthisbookbelongedtoanyoneotherthanJulian,Iwouldthrowitawayinrage.
Acenturyofwarandwastefulbloodshed.
Howcananyonechangesomethinglikethat?
ForonceIfindmyselfcountingonMavenâsabilitytotwistandscheme.Perhaps he can see a wayâforge a pathâthat no one before him hasimagined.
THIRTEENMare
AweekpassesuntilIleavemyroomagain.EventhoughtheyâreagiftfromMaven, a reminder of his strange obsessionwithme, Iâm glad for Julianâsbooks.Theyâremy only company.A piece of a friend in this place. I keepthemclose,alongsideGisaâssilkscrap.
Pages pass with the days. I work back through the histories, travelingthroughwords thatbecomelessand lessbelievable.ThreehundredyearsofCalorekings, centuriesofSilverwarlordsâthis is aworld I recognize.ButthefartherIgo,themurkierthingsbecome.
Written records of the so-called Reformation Period are scarce,thoughmost scholars agree that the period began sometime around1500OldEra(orOE)bythemodernNortancalendar.MostrecordsdatingbeforetheReformation,immediatelyfollowing,during,orpriorto the Calamities that befell the continent, were almost entirelydestroyed, were lost, or are impossible to read at present. Thoserecoveredarecloselystudiedandguardedwithin theRoyalArchivesinDelphie,aswellassimilarfacilitiesinneighboringkingdoms.TheCalamities themselves have been studied at length, using fieldinvestigationpairedwithpre-Silverianmythtopostulateevents.Atthetime ofwriting,many believe that a combination of ultimate humanwar, geologic shift, climate change, and other natural catastrophesresultedinthenearextinctionofthehumanrace.
The earliest discovered, translatable records date fromapproximately 950 OE, but the exact year cannot be verified. Onedocument,TheTrialofBarrRambler,isanincompleteaccountoftheattempted court trial of an accused thief in reconstructed Delphie.Barrwasaccusedofstealinghisneighborâswagon.Duringthecourseofthetrial,Barrreportedlybrokehischainsofbindingâasifmadeoftwigsâandescapeddespitea fullguard. It isbelieved tobe the firstrecordofaSilverdisplayinghisability.Tothisday,HouseRhambosclaimstotraceitsstrongarmbloodlinefromhim.However,thisclaimis refuted by another court record, The Trial of Hillman, Tryent,Davids,wherein threemenofDelphiewere tried for the subsequent
murderofBarrRambler,whowasreported tohavenochildren.ThethreemenwereacquittedandlaterpraisedbythecitizensofDelphiefor their work in destroying âthe Rambler abominationâ (DelphieRecordsandWritings,Vol.1).
ThetreatmentofBarrRamblerwasnotanisolatedincident.Manyearlywritingsanddocumentsdetail fearandpersecutionofarisingpopulationofabilitiedhumanswithsilver-coloredblood.Mostbandedtogether for protection, forming communities outsideRed-dominatedcities.TheReformationPeriodendedwiththeriseofSilversocieties,some living in conjunction with Red cities, though most eventuallyovertooktheirred-bloodedcounterparts.
SilverspersecutedbyReds. Iwant to laughat the thought.Howstupid.Howimpossible.Iâvelivedeverydayofmylifeknowingtheyaregodsandweareinsects.Icannotevenbegintofathomaworldwherethereversewastrue.
TheseareJulianâsbooks.Hesawenoughmeritheretostudythem.Still,Ifeeltoounsettledtocontinue,andIkeepmyreadingtolateryears.TheNewEra,theCalorekings.NamesandplacesIknowinacivilizationIunderstand.
Onedaymydelivered clothes are plainer than ever.Comfortable,madeforutilityratherthanstyle.Myfirst indicationofsomethingamiss.Ialmostlook like a Security officer, with stretchy pants, a black jacket sparselyembellishedwith pinprickwhorls of ruby beading, and shockingly sensibleboots.Polishedbutwornleather,noheel,justtherightamountofpinch,andenough room for my ankle manacles. The ones at the wrist are hidden asusual,coveredbygloves.Fur-lined.Forthecold.Myheartleaps.Iâveneverbeensoexcitedaboutgloves.
âAmIgoingoutside?âIaskKittenbreathlessly,forgettinghowgoodsheisatignoringme.Shedoesnâtdisappoint,staringstraightaheadassheleadsmefrommyluxuriouscell.Cloverisalwayseasiertoread.Thetwitchofherlips and narrowed green eyes are affirmation enough. Not to mention thatthey,too,arebothwearingthickcoatsaswellasgloves,albeittherubberonestoprotecttheirhandsfromelectricityInolongerpossess.
Outside.Ihavenâttastedmuchmorethanabreezefromanopenwindowsincethatdayonthestepsofthepalace.IthoughtMavenwasgoingtotakemy head off, so obviously my mind was elsewhere. Now I wish I couldrememberthecoldairofNovember,thesharpwindbringingwinterwithit.Inmyhaste,IalmostoutpacetheArvens.Theyârequicktoyankmeinlineand
make me match their steps. Itâs a maddening descent, down stairs andcorridorsIknowbyheart.
Familiarpressureripplesagainstme,andIglanceovermyshoulder.EggandTriojoinourranks,bringinguptherearofmyArvenguard.TheymoveinunisonwithKittenandClover,stepsmatching,aswemakeourwaytotheentrancehallandCaesarâsSquare.
Quickasmyexcitementcame,itbleedsaway.
Feargnawsatmyinsides.ItriedtomanipulateMavenintomakingcostlymistakes,tomakehimdoubt,toburnthelastbridgeshehasleft.ButmaybeIfailed.Maybeheâsgoingtoburnmeinstead.
Ifocusontheclickofmybootsonmarble.Somethingsolidtoanchormyfear.Myfistscurlinmygloves,beggingforasparktotidemeover.Itnevercomes.
The palace seems strangely empty, evenmore so than usual.Doors areshutfast,whileservantsflutterthroughtheroomsthatarenâtclosedyet,quickand quiet as mice. They flutter white sheets over furniture and artwork,covering themup instrangeshrouds.Fewguards, fewernobles.Theones Ipassareyoungandwide-eyed.Iknowtheirhouses,theircolors,andIcanseenakedfearontheirfaces.Allaredressedlikeme,forthecold,forfunction.Formovement.
âWhere is everyone going?â I ask no one, because no one is going toanswer.
Cloverharshlyyanksonmyponytail,forcingmetolookstraightahead.Itdoesnât hurt, but the action is jarring. She never handles me this way, notunlessIgiveheragoodreason.
I spin through the possibilities. Is this an evacuation? Has the ScarletGuard attempted another assault onArcheon?Or have the rebelling housesreturned tofinishwhat theystarted?No, itcanâtbeeither.This is toocalm.Weârenotrunningfromanything.
Aswecrossthehall,Itakeadeepbreath,lookingaround.Marblebeneathme, chandeliers aboveme, tall glimmeringmirrors and gilded paintings ofCaloreancestorsmarchingupthewallsoneitherside.Redandblackbanners,silverandgoldandcrystal.Ifeellikeitâsallgoingtocrashdownandcrushme.Fearcreepsdownmyspinewhenthedoorsaheadswingopen,metalandglasseasingongianthinges.Thefirstbreathofcoldwindhitsmehead-on,makingmyeyeswater.
Thewinter sun shines bright on thegleaming square, blindingme for asecond.Iblinkrapidly,tryingtomakemyeyesadjust.Icanâtaffordtomissasecondof this.Theoutsideworldcomes intofocussteadily.Snowliesdeepon the rooftops of the palace and the surrounding structures of CaesarâsSquare.
Soldiers line either side of the steps leading down from the palace,immaculateintheirneatrows.TheArvensleadmethroughthedoublerowofsoldiers,pasttheirgunsanduniformsandunblinkingeyes.IturntolookovermyshoulderasIwalk,stealingaglanceattheopulentpalehulkofWhitefirePalace. Silhouettes prowl the roof. Officers in black uniforms, soldiers inclouded gray. Even from here, their rifles are clearly visible, silhouettedagainstacoldbluesky.AndthosearejusttheguardsIcansee.Theremustbemorepatrollingthewalls,manningthegates,concealedandreadytodefendthis wretched place. Hundreds, probably, kept for their loyalty and lethalability.Wecrossthesquarealone,fornoone,fornothing.Whatisthis?
I note the buildingswe pass.TheRoyalCourt, a circular buildingwithsmoothmarblewalls,spiraledcolumns,andacrystaldome,hasgoneunusedsince Mavenâs coronation. It is a symbol of power, a massive hall largeenough to seat the assembled High Houses and their retainers, as well asimportantmembers of the Silver citizenry. Iâve never been inside. I hope Inever am.The judiciary courts,whereSilver law ismade and enactedwithbrutal efficiency, branchout from thedomed structure.Next to their archesandcrystaltrappings,theTreasuryHalllooksdull.Slabwallsâmoremarble,andIhavetowonderhowmanyquarriesthisplacesuckeddryânowindows,sitting like a block of stone among sculptures. The wealth of Norta issomewhere in there, more defended than the king, locked in vaults drilleddeepintothebedrockbelowus.
âThisway,âClovergrowls,pullingmetowardtheTreasury.
âWhy?âIask.Again,nooneanswers.
Myheartbeatquickens,hammeringagainstmyribcage,andIstruggletokeepmybreathingeven.Eachcoldgaspfeelslikethetickofaclock,steadilycountingdownthemomentsbeforeIâmswallowedup.
Thedoorsarethick,thickerthantheonesIrememberfromCorrosPrison.Theyopenwide as a yawningmouth, flankedby guards in liveried purple.The Treasury has no grand entrance hall, in sharp contrast to every otherSilver structure Iâve ever seen. Itâs just a long white corridor, curving andslopingdownwardinasteadyspiral.Guardsstandatattentioneverytenyards
orso,flushagainstpurewhitestone.Wherethevaultsmightbe,orwhereIâmgoing,Icanâtsay.
Afterexactlysixhundredsteps,westopinfrontofaguard.
Withoutawordhestepsforwardandtotheside,puttinghisfingerstothewallbehindhim.Hepushesandthemarbleglidesbackwardafoot,revealingthe silhouette of a door. It slides easily at his touch, widening to create athree-footgapinthestone.Thesoldierdoesnâtstrainatall.Strongarm,Inote.
Thestoneisthickandheavy.Myfeartriples,andIswallowhard,feelingmyhandsstart tosweat inmygloves.Mavenis finallyputtingmeinarealcell.
KittenandClovershoveme, tryingtotakemeoffguard,butIplantmyfeet,lockingeveryjointagainstthem.âNo!âIshout,drivingashoulderbackinto one of them. Kitten grunts but doesnât stop, continuing to push whileClovertakesmearoundthemiddle,liftingmecleanoffthefloor.
âYoucanâtputmedownhere!âIdonâtknowwhatcardtoplay,whatmasktoputon.DoIcry?DoIbeg?DoIactliketherebelqueentheythinkIam?Which one will save me? Fear overrules my senses. I gasp like a girldrowning.âPlease,IcanâtâIcanâtââ
Ikickatopenair,tryingtotoppleClover,butsheâsstrongerthanIexpect.Egg takesmy legs,cleanly ignoringmyheelas itcracks intohis jaw.Theycarrymelikeapieceoffurniture,withoutthoughtorattention.
Twisting,ImanagetocatchsightoftheTreasuryguardasthedoorslidesbackintoplace.Hehumstohimself,nonchalant.Anotherdayonthejobforhim.Iforcemyselftolookforward,atwhateverfateawaitsmeinthesewhitedepths.
This vault is empty; itswalkway corkscrews like the corridor, albeit intightercircles.Nothingmarksthewalls.Nodistinguishingfeatures,noseams,notevenguards.Justlightsoverheadandstoneallaround.
âPlease.â My voice echoes in the silence, alone with the sound of myracingheartbeat.
Istareupattheceiling,willingthisalltobeadream.
Whentheydropme,Igasp,thewindknockedfrommylungs.Still,Irolltomy feet as quickly as I can.As I stand, fists clenched, teeth bared, Iâmreadytofightandwillingtolose.Iwonâtbeabandonedherewithouttakingsomeoneâsteeth.
TheArvensstandback,sidebyside,unamused.Uninterested.Theirfocusisbeyondme,behindme.
Iwhirltofindmyselfstaring,notatanotherblankwall,butatawindingplatform. Newly built, joining with other corridors or vaults or secretpassages.Itoverlookstracks.
Beforemybraincanattempttoconnectthedots,beforeeventhebriefestwhisperofexcitementcanrippleinmymind,Mavenspeaks,andsmashesmyhopetopieces.
âDonât get ahead of yourself.â His voice echoes from my left, fartherdowntheplatform.Hestandsthere,waiting,aguardofSentinelsaroundhim,alongwithEvangelineandPtolemus.Allofthemwearcoatslikemine,withamplefurtokeepthemwarm.BothSamoschildrenareresplendentinblacksable.
Maven steps toward me, grinning with the confidence of a wolf. âTheScarletGuardarenâttheonlyonescapableofbuildingtrains.â
TheUndertrainrattledandsparkedandrustedallover,atinheapthreateningtosplitapartatitswelds.Still,Ipreferittothisglamorousslug.
âYour friendsgaveme the idea, of course,âMaven says fromhis plushseat across fromme.He lazes, proud of himself. I see none of his psychicwoundstoday.Theyârecarefullyhidden,eitherpushedasideorforgottenforthemoment.
I fight the urge to curl up inmy own seat, and I keep both feet firmlyplantedonthefloor.Ifsomethinggoeswrong,Ihavetobereadytorun.Asinthe palace, I note every inch of Mavenâs train, looking for any kind ofadvantage. I find none. No windows, and Sentinels and Arven guards areplantedateitherendofthelongcompartment.Itâsfurnishedlikeasalon,withpaintings,upholsteredchairsandcouches,evencrystallightstinklingwiththemotionofthetrain.ButaswitheverythingSilver,Iseethecracks.Thepainthasbarelydried.Icansmellit.Thetrainisbrand-new,untested.Attheotherendofthecompartment,Evangelineâseyesdartbackandforth,betrayingherattempttoseemcalm.Thetrainrattlesher.Ibetshecanfeeleverypieceofitmoving at high speed. Itâs a hard sensation to get used to. I never could,alwayssensingthepulseofmachinesliketheUndertrainortheBlackrunjet.IusedtofeeltheelectricbloodâIguessshecanfeelthemetalveins.
Her brother sits beside her, glowering at me. He shifts once or twice,nudginghershoulder.Herpainedexpressionrelentseverytime,calmedbyhispresence.Iguessifthenewtrainexplodes,theyârestrongenoughtosurvive
theshrapnel.
âTheymanagedtoescapesoquicklyfromtheBowlofBones,ridingtheancientrailsallthewaytoNaerceybeforeevenIcouldgetthere.Ifigureditwouldnât be so bad to have a little escape route of my own,â Mavencontinues, drumming his fingers on his knee. âYou never know what newconcoctionmybrothermaydreamupinhisattempttooverthrowme.Besttobeprepared.â
âAndwhatareyouescapingfromrightnow?âImumble, trying tokeepmyvoicelow.
Heonlyshrugsandlaughs.âDonâtactsoglum,Mare.Iâmdoingusbothafavor.âGrinning,hesinksbackinhisseat.Hekickshisfeetup,puttingthemontotheseatbesideme.Iwrinklemynoseattheaction,anglingaway.âOnecanonlytoleratetheprisonofWhitefirePalaceforsolong.â
Prison. I bite back a retort, forcingmyself to humor him.You have noideawhataprisonis,Maven.
Withoutwindowsoranykindofbearing, Ihavenowaytoknowwherewemay be headed or how far this infernalmachine can travel. It certainlyfeelsas fastas theUndertrain, ifnot faster. Idoubtweâreheadingsouth, toNaercey, a ruined city now abandoned even by the Scarlet Guard. MavenmadesuchashowofdestroyingthetunnelsaftertheinfiltrationofArcheon.
He lets me think, watching as I puzzle out the picture around us. HeknowsIdonâthaveenoughpiecestomakeitwhole.Still,heletsmetry,anddoesnâtofferanymoreexplanation.
Theminutestickby,andIturnmyfocustoPtolemus.Myhateforhimhasonlygrownover the last fewmonths.Hekilledmybrother.He tookShadefromthisworld.HewoulddothesametoeveryoneIloveifgiventhechance.Foronce,heâswithouthisscaledarmor.Itmakeshimseemsmaller,weaker,more vulnerable. I fantasize about cutting his throat and stainingMavenâsfreshlypaintedwallswithSilverblood.
âSomethinginterestyou?âPtolemussnarls,meetingmygaze.
âLetherstare,âEvangelinesays.She leansback inherseatand tipsherhead,neverbreakingeyecontact.âShecanâtdomuchmorethanthat.â
âWeâllsee,âIgrowlback.Inmylap,myfingerstwitch.
Mavencluckshistongue,chiding.âLadies.â
BeforeEvangelinecanretort,herfocusshiftsandshelooksaway,atthe
walls, at the floor, at the ceiling. Ptolemusmatches her action. They sensesomething Icanât.And then the trainaroundusstarts to slow, itsgearsandmechanismsscreechingagainstirontracks.
âNearlythere,then,âMavensays,easingtohisfeet.Heoffersmeahand.
Foramoment,Ientertaintheideaofbitinghisfingersoff.Instead,Iputmyhandinhis,ignoringthecrawlingsensationundermyskin.WhenIstand,his thumbgrazes the raised edgeofmymanaclebeneathmyglove.A firmreminderofhisholdoverme.Icanâtstanditandpullaway,foldingmyarmsovermychesttocreateabarrierbetweenus.Somethingdarkensinhisbrighteyes,andheputsupashieldofhisown.
MavenâstrainstopssosmoothlyIbarelyfeel it.TheArvensdo, though,andsnaptomyside,surroundingmewithexhaustingfamiliarity.AtleastIâmnotchaineduporleashed.
Sentinels flankMaven as theArvens flankme, their flaming robes andblack masks foreboding as always. They let Maven set the pace, and hecrosses the length of the compartment. Evangeline and Ptolemus follow,forcingmeandmyguardstotakeupthebackofthestrangeprocession.Wefollowthemthroughthedoor,intoavestibuleconnectingonecompartmenttothenext.Anotherdoor,anotherlongstretchofopulentfurnishings,thistimeinadiningroom.Stillnowindows.Stillnohintastowherewemightbe.
At the next vestibule, a door opens, not ahead, but to the right. TheSentinelsduckthroughfirst,disappearing,thenMavengoes,thentherest.Weexit onto another platform, illuminated by harsh lights overhead. Itâsshockingly cleanâanother new construction, no doubtâbut the air feelsdamp.Despite themeticulousorderof the emptyplatform, somethingdripssomewhere, echoing aroundus. I look left and right along the tracks.Theyfadeintoblacknessoneitherside.Thisisnâttheendoftheline.IshuddertothinkhowmuchprogressMavenhasmadeinonlyafewmonthsâtime.
Up we go, ascending a set of stairs. I resign myself to a long climb,remembering how deep the vault entrancewas. So Iâm surprisedwhen thestairs level off quickly at another door. This one is reinforced steel, aforebodingomenofwhatmightbebeyond.ASentinelgraspsthebarlockandturnsitwithagrunt.Thegroanofamassivemechanismanswers.Evangelineand Ptolemus donât lift a finger to help. Like me, they watch with thinlyveiledfascination.IdonâtthinktheyknowmuchmorethanIdo.Strange,forahousesocloselytiedtotheking.
Daylight streams through as the steel swings back, revealing gray and
bluebeyond.Deadtrees,theirbranchessplayedlikeveins,reachintoaclearwintersky.Aswestepoutfromthetrainbunker,Itakeadeepbreath.Pine,the sharp cleanness of cold air.Weâre standing in a clearing surroundedbyevergreensandnakedoaks.Theearthbeneathmeisfrozen,hard-packeddirtbeneathafewinchesofsnow.Itchillsmytoesalready.
I dig inmyheels, earningonemore secondof open forest.TheArvenspushmealong,makingmeskid.Idonâtfightsomuchasmethodicallyslowthemdown,all thewhilewhippingmyheadbackandforth. I try togetmybearings. Judging by the sun, now beginning its western descent, north isdirectlyaheadofme.
Four military transports, polished to unnatural shine, idle in the pathbefore us.Their engines hum,waiting, the heat of them sending plumes ofsteaminto theair. Itâseasy to figurewhichbelongs toMaven.TheBurningCrown, red, black, and royal silver, is stampedon the sidesof thegrandestone.Itstandsalmosttwofeetofftheground,withmassivewheelsandwhatmustbea reinforcedbody.Bulletproof, fireproof,deathproof.Everything toprotecttheboyking.
Heclimbsinsidewithouthesitation,hiscapetrailingbehind.Tomyrelief,the Arvens donât make me follow, and Iâm bodily shoved into anothertransport.Mine isunmarked.As Iduck in, straining forone lastglimpseoftheopensky,InoticeEvangelineandPtolemusapproachtheirowntransport.Black and silver, its metal body covered in spikes. Evangeline probablydecorateditherself.
WelurchforwardasEggshutsthedoorbehindhim,lockingmeintothetransportwithfourArvenguards.There isasoldierbehind thewheelandaSentinelintheseatnexttohim.Iresignmyselftoanotherjourney,crammedinwiththeArvens.
At least the transporthaswindows.Iwatch,notwanting toblink,aswespeedthroughanachinglyfamiliarforest.Whenwereachtheriver,and thewidelypavedroadrunningnexttoit,alongingburnsthroughmychest.
That is the Capital River.My river.Weâre driving north, on the RoyalRoad.Theycouldthrowmefromthetransportrightnow,leavemeinthedustwithnothing,andIcouldfindmywayhome.Tearsspringtomyeyesatthethought.WhatIwoulddo,tomyselforanyoneelse,forthechancetogobackhome?
But no one is there. No one I care about. Theyâre gone, protected, faraway.Home is no longer the placeweâre from.Home is safewith them. I
hope.
I jump as other transports join our convoy.Military-grade, their bodiesmarkedbytheblackswordofthearmy.Icountalmostadozeninsight,andmorestretchingintothedistancebehindus.ManyhaveSilversoldiersvisible,eitherleaningoffthesideorperchedontopinspecialseatsandharnesses.Allofthemareonalert,readytoact.TheArvensdonâtlooksurprisedbythenewadditions.Theyknewtheywerecoming.
TheRoyalRoadwindsthroughtownsontheriverbank.Redtowns.WeâretoofarsouthforustopassthroughtheStiltsyet,butthatdoesnâtdampenmyexcitement.Brickmillscomeintoviewfirst,juttingoutintotheshallowsofthe river.We speed right for them, entering the outskirts of a thrivingmilltown.Asmuchas Iwant to seemore, Ihopewedonât stop. IhopeMavenpassesrightthroughthisplacewithoutdisruption.
Imostlygetmywish.Theconvoyslowsbutneverstops,rollingthroughthe heart of the town in all its glittering menace. Crowds line the street,wavinguson.Theycheerfortheking,shoutinghisname,strainingtoseeandbeseen.Redmerchantstomillworkers,theoldandyoung,hundredsofthempressingforwardtogetabetterlook.IexpecttoseeSecurityofficerspushingthemon,forcingsucharaucouswelcome.Ileanbackagainstmyseat,willingmyself not to be seen. Theyâre already forced towatchme sit byMavenâsside.Idonâtwanttoaddmorefueltothatmanipulativefire.Tomyrelief,nooneputsmeondisplay.Imerelysitandstareatmyhandsinmylap,hopingforthetowntopassbyasquicklyaspossible.Inthepalace,seeingwhatIseeofMaven,knowingwhatIdoabouthim,itâseasytoforgethehasmostofthecountryinhispocket.HisgrandeffortstoturnthetideofopinionagainsttheScarlet Guard and his enemies seem to be working. These people believewhathesays,orperhapshavenoopportunitytofight.Idonâtknowwhichoneisworse.
When the town recedesbehindus, thecheers still echo inmyhead.AllthisforMaven,forthenextstepinwhateverplanhehasputinmotion.
Wemust bebeyondNewTown; thatmuch is clear.Thereâs nopollution insight.Therearenâtanyestateseither. I rememberpassingRiverRowonmyfirst journey south, backwhen I was pretending to beMareena.We saileddownriverfromtheHalloftheSunallthewaytoArcheon,passingvillages,towns,andtheluxuriousstretchofbankwheremanyHighHouseskepttheirfamilymansions.ItrytorememberthemapsJulianusedtoshowme.Instead,Ionlygivemyselfaheadache.
Thesundipslowerastheconvoyturnsoffafterthethirdcheeringtown,movinginpracticedformationontoaconnectingroadway.Headingwest.Itrytoswallowthedipofsadnessrisinginside.Northpullsatme,beckoningeventhoughIcannotfollow.TheplacesIknowstretchfartherandfartheraway.
Itrytokeepthecompassinmyhead.WestistheIronRoad.ThewaytotheWestlakes,theLakelands,theChoke.Westiswarandruin.
EggandTriodonâtletmemovemuch,soIhavetocranemynecktosee.Ibitemylipaswepassthroughasetofgates,tryingtospotasignorasymbol.Thereisnâtanything,justbarsofwroughtironbeneathshockinglygreenvinesoffloweringivy.Welloutofseason.
Theestateispalatial,atthefarendofaroadlinedbyimmaculatehedges.Wespitoutintoawidesquareofstone,withtheestatehouseoccupyingoneside.Ourconvoycirclesinfrontofit,stoppingwiththetransportssplayedoutinanarcedrow.Nocrowdshere,butguardsarealreadywaitingoutside.TheArvensmovequicklyandIâmusheredfromthetransport.
Iglareupatcharmingredbrickandwhitetrim,rowsofpolishedwindowshungwithblooming flowerboxes, flutedcolumns, floridbalconies, and thelargest tree Iâve ever seen bursting from the middle of the mansion. Itsbranchesarcoverthepointedroof,growinginconjunctionwiththestructure.Not a twig or leaf out place, perfectly sculpted like a piece of living art.Magnolia,Ithink,judgingbythewhiteflowersandtheperfumedsmell.Foramoment,Iforgetitâswinter.
âWelcome,YourMajesty.â
ThevoiceisnâtoneIrecognize.
Anothergirl,myagebuttall,lean,paleasthesnowthatshouldbehere,stepsdownfromoneofthemanytransportsthatjoinedours.HerattentionisonMaven,nowclamberingoutofhisowntransport,andsheglidesbymetocurtsyinfrontofhim.Iknowherataglance.
HeronWelle.ShecompetedinQueenstriallongago,drawingmightytreesout of earth while her house cheered her on. Like so many, she hoped tobecome a royal bride, chosen to marry Cal. Now she stands at Mavenâscommand,eyesdowncast,waitingforhisorder.Shepullshergreen-and-goldcoattighteraroundherself,adefenseagainstthecoldandMavenâsstare.
HersisoneofthefewhousesIknewbeforeIwasforcedintotheSilverworld.HerfathergovernstheregionIwasbornin.Iusedtowatchhisshippassbyontheriver,andwaveatitsgreenflagswithotherstupidchildren.
Maven takes his time, needlessly donning his gloves for the shortwalkbetween his transport and the mansion. As he moves, the simple crownnestledinhisblackcurlscapturesthewaningsunlight,winkingredandgold.
âCharming place, Heron,â he says, making idle small talk. It soundssinistercomingfromhim.Athreat.
âThankyou,YourMajesty.Alliswellinorderforyourarrival.â
AsIâmmaneuveredcloser,Heronsparesasingleglanceforme.Heronlyacknowledgment of my existence. She has birdlike features, but on herangularfigure they lookelegant, refined,andsharplybeautiful. Iexpecthereyes to be green, like everything else about her family and ability. Instead,theyareavibrantdeepblue,setoffbyporcelainskinandauburnhair.
The rest of the transports empty their passengers. More colors, morehouses,moreguardsandsoldiers.IspotSamsonamongthem,lookingfoolishinleatherandfurdyedblue.Thecolorandthecoldmakehimpalerthanever,ablondicicleofbloodlust.TheothersgivehimawideberthasheprowlstoMavenâsside.Icountafewdozencourtiersataglance.EnoughtomakemewonderifevenGovernorWelleâsmansioncanholdusall.
MavenacknowledgesSamsonwithanodofhisheadbeforehesetsoffata brisk pace, trotting toward the ornate stairs leading up from the square.Heronfollowsathisheels,asdotheSentinelsintheirusualflock.Everyoneelsefollows,pulledalongbyaninvisibletether.
Amanwho can only be the governor rushes from oak-and-gold doors,bowing as he walks. He seems bland in comparison to his home,unremarkablewithhisweakchin,dirty-blondhair,andabodyneitherfatnorthin.Hisclothesmakeup for it,and thensome.Hewearsboots,butter-softleather pants, and a jacket worked in ornate brocade, set with flashingemeralds at the collar and hems.They are nothing compared to the ancientmedallionaroundhisneck.Itbouncesagainsthischestashewalks,ajeweledemblemofthetreeguardinghishome.
âYour Majesty, I canât tell you how pleased we are to host you,â heblusters, bowing one last time. Maven purses his lips into a thin smile,amusedbythedisplay.âItâssuchanhonortobethefirstdestinationonyourcoronationtour.â
Disgust curls in my stomach. Iâm seized by the image of me paradingthroughthecountry,afewstepsbehindMaven,alwaysathisbeckandcall.On-screen, in front of cameras, it feels degrading, but in person? Beforecrowdsofpeopleliketheonesinthetown?Imaynotsurviveit.SomehowI
thinkIwouldprefertheprisonofWhitefire.
Mavenclaspshandswiththegovernor,hissmilespreadingintosomethingthat could pass for genuine. Heâs good at the act, Iâll give him that. âOfcourse,Cyrus,Icouldthinkofnobetterplacetostart.Heronspeakssohighlyofyou,âheadds,wavinghertohisside.
She steps quickly, eyes flashing to her father. A look of relief passesbetween them. Like everything Maven does, her presence is a carefulmanipulationandamessage.
âShallwe?âMavengesturestothemansion.Hesetsoff,makingtherestof us keep up. The governor hurries to flankMaven, still trying to at leastlooklikehehassomemannerofcontrolhere.
Inside,drovesofRedservantslinethewallsintheirbestuniforms,theirshoespolishedandeyesonthefloor.Nonelookatme,andIkeeptomyself,musing instead on the governorâsmansion. I expected greenwarden artistryand I am not disappointed. Flowers of every kind dominate the foyer,blooming from crystal vases, painted on the walls, molded on the ceiling,workedinglassinthechandeliersorinstonemosaiconthefloor.Thesmellshouldbeoverwhelming.Instead,itâsintoxicating,calmingwitheverybreath.Iinhaledeeply,allowingmyselfthisonesmallpleasure.
More ofHouseWellewait to greet the king, falling over themselves toboworcurtsyorcomplimentMavenoneverythingfromhislawstohisshoes.Ashesuffersthemall,Evangelinejoinsus,havingalreadydiscardedherfurswithsomepoorservant.
Itenseasshepausesnexttome.Allthegreeneryreflectsinherclothing,givingherasicklyhue.Withajolt,Irealizeherfatherisnâthere.HeusuallyhoversbetweenherandMavenateventslikethis,quicktostepinwhenhertemperthreatenstoboilover.Butheisnâtherenow.
Evangeline says nothing, content to stare atMavenâs back. Iwatch herwatchhim.HerfistclencheswhenthegovernorleanstowhisperinMavenâsear.ThenhebeckonstooneoftheSilverswaiting,atall,thinwomanwithjet-blackhair,swoopingcheekbones,andcool,ocherskin.IfsheâspartofHouseWelle,shedoesnâtlookit.Notascrapofgreenonher.Instead,herclothesaregray-blue. The woman bows her head stiffly, careful to keep her eyes onMavenâs face.Hisdemeanorchanges,his smilewidening foran instant.Hemutters something back, his head bobbing in excitement. I catch a singleword.
âNow,âhesays.Thegovernorandthewomanoblige.
They walk away together, Sentinels in tow. I glance at the Arvens,wonderingifweâremeanttogotoo,buttheydonâtmove.
Evangelinedoesnâteither.Andforwhateverreason,hershouldersdroopandherbodyrelaxes.Someweighthasfallenaway.
âStopstaringatme,âshesnaps,knockingmefrommyobservations.
Idropmyhead,lettingherwinthissmall, insignificantexchange.AndIcontinuetowonder.Whatdoessheknow?WhatdoessheseethatIdonât?
AstheArvensleadmeawaytowhatevermycellfortheeveningmaybe,myheart sinks inmychest. I left Julianâsbooks inWhitefire.Nothingwillcomfortmetonight.
FOURTEENMare
Beforemycapture,Ispentmonthscrisscrossingthecountry,evadingMavenâshunters and recruitingnewbloods. I sleptonadirt floor, atewhatwecouldsteal, spentallmywakinghourseither feeling toomuchor too little, tryingmybesttostayaheadofallourdemons.Ididnâthandlethepressurewell.Ishutdownandshutoutmyfriends,myfamily,everyoneclosetome.Anyonewhowanted tohelporunderstand.Ofcourse I regret it.Ofcourse Iwish IcouldgobacktotheNotch,toCalandKilornandFarleyandShade.Iwoulddothingsdifferently.Iwouldbedifferent.
Sadly,noSilverornewbloodcanchangethepast.Mymistakescannotbeundone, forgotten, or ignored.But I canmake amends. I can do somethingnow.
Iâve seen Norta, but as an outlaw. From the shadows. The view fromMavenâs side, as part of his extensive entourage, is like the differencebetweennightandday.Ishiverbeneathmycoat,handsclaspedtogetherforwarmth.Between the crushing power of theArvens andmymanacles, Iâmmoresusceptibletothetemperature.Despitemyhatredforhim,IfindmyselfinchingclosertoMaven,ifonlytotakeadvantageofhisconstantheat.Onhisother side,Evangelinedoes theopposite, keepingher distance.She focusesmoreonGovernorWellethantheking,andmutterstohimoccasionally,hervoicelowenoughnottodisturbMavenâsspeech.
âIâmhumbledbyyourwelcome,aswellasyoursupportforayounganduntestedking.â
Mavenâs voice echoes, magnified by microphones and speakers. Hedoesnât read fromanypaperand somehowseems tomakeeyecontactwithevery person crowding the city square below the balcony. Like everythingabouttheking,eventhelocationisamanipulation.Westandabovehundreds,looking down, elevated beyond the reach of mere humans. The assembledpeopleofArborus,GovernorWelleâsowncapitalwithinhisdomain,stareup,faces raised in away thatmakesmy skin itch.TheReds jostle for a betterlook.Theyâreeasy topickout,standing inbunches,covered inmismatchedlayers,theirfacesflushedredwithcold,whiletheSilvercitizenrysitinfurs.
Black-uniformed Security officers dot the crowd, vigilant as the Sentinelspostedonthebalconyandneighboringrooftops.
âIt is my hope that this coronation tour allows me not only a deeperunderstanding of my kingdom, but a deeper understanding of you. Yourstruggles.Yourhopes.Yourfears.BecauseIamcertainlyafraid.âAmurmurgoesthroughthecrowdbelow,aswellastheassembledpartyonthebalcony.EvenEvangelineglancessidelongatMaven,eyesnarrowedovertheflawlesswhitecollarofherfurwrap.âWeareakingdomonthebrink,threateningtoshatterundertheweightofwarandterrorism.Itismysolemndutytopreventthis fromhappening, and saveus from thehorrors ofwhatever anarchy theScarletGuardwishestoinstill.Somanyaredead,inArcheon,inCorvium,inSummerton. My own mother and father among them. My own brothercorrupted by the insurrectionist forces.But even so, I amnot alone. I haveyou.IhaveNorta.âHesighsslowly,amuscletickinginhischeek.âAndwewillstandtogetheragainsttheenemiesseekingtodestroyourwayoflife,Redand Silver. I pledge my life to eradicating the Scarlet Guard, in any waypossible.â
Thecheersbelowsoundlikemetalonmetaltome,screeching,ahorrificnoise.Ikeepmyfacestill,expressioncarefullyneutral.Itservesmeaswellasanyshield.
Every day his speech becomes firmer, his words carefully chosen andwieldedlikeknives.Notoncedoeshesaythewordrebelorrevolution.TheScarlet Guard are always terrorists. Always murderers. Always enemies toour way of life, whatever that may be. And unlike his parents, he ismasterfullycarefultonotinsultReds.ThetourmovesthroughSilverestatesand Red cities alike. Somehow he seems at home in both, never flinchingfrom the worst his kingdom has to offer.We even visit one of the factoryslums, the kind of place Iwill never forget. I try not to cringe aswe passthrough the teetering dormitory buildings or when we step out into thepolluted air.Maven alone seemsunfazed, smiling for theworkers and theirtattooed necks.He doesnât cover hismouth like Evangeline or retch at thesmell like somany others, myself included. Heâs better at this than I everexpected.Heknows, ashisparents couldnotor refused tounderstand, thatseducingRedstohisSilvercauseisperhapshisbestchanceofvictory.
In another Red city, on the steps of a Silvermansion, he lays the nextbrick in a deadly road. One thousand poor farmers look on, not daring tobelieve,notdaringtohope.EvenIdonâtknowwhatheâsdoing.
âMyfatherâsMeasureswereenactedafteradeadlyattackthat leftmany
governmentofficialsdead.ItwashisattempttopunishtheScarletGuardfortheirevil,and,tomyshame,itonlypunishedyouinstead.âBeforetheeyesofsomany,hedipshisface.Itisastirringsight.ASilverkingbowinginfrontoftheRedmasses.IhavetoremindmyselfthatthisisMaven.Thisisatrick.âAs of today, I decree the Measures lifted and abolished. They were themistakesofawell-meaningking,butmistakesallthesame.â
Heglancesatme,justforamoment,butthemomentisenoughformetoknowthathecaresaboutmyreaction.
The Measures. Conscription age lowered to fifteen. Restrictive curfew.Lethal punishment for any crime. All to turn the Red population of NortaagainsttheScarletGuard.Allgoneinaninstant,inonebeatofakingâsblackheart.Ishouldfeelhappy.Ishouldfeelproud.Heâsdoingthisbecauseofme.Somepartofhimthinksthiswillpleaseme.Somepartthinksitwillkeepmesafe.Butwatching theReds,myownpeople,cheerfor theiroppressoronlyfillsmewithdread.Ilookdowntofindthatmyhandsareshaking.
Whatishedoing?Whatisheplanning?
Tofindout,ImustflyasclosetotheflameasIdare.
He ends his appearances bywalking through the crowd, shaking handswith as many Reds as he does Silvers. He cuts through them with ease,Sentinelsflankinghimindiamondformation.SamsonMerandusalwayshashis back, and I wonder howmany feel the brush of hismind against theirown. Heâs a better deterrent to a would-be assassin than anything else.EvangelineandItrailbehind,bothofuswithguards.Asalways,Irefusetosmile,tolook,totouchanyone.Itâssaferforthemthisway.
The transportswait forus, their enginesworked to an idlepurr.Above,the overcast sky darkens and I smell snow.While our guards close ranks,tightening formation to allow the king to enter his transport, I quickenmypaceasbestIcan.Myheartracesandmybreathpuffswhiteonthecoldair.
âMaven,âIsayaloud.
Despitethecheeringcrowdbehindus,hehearsmeandpausesonthestepof his transport.He turnswith fluid grace, long capewhirling out to showbloodred lining.Unlike the rest of us, he doesnât need towear fur to keepwarm.
Idrawmycoattighter,ifonlytogivemynervoushandssomethingmoretodo.âDidyoureallymeanthat?â
Athisowntransport,Samsonstares,eyesboringintomine.Hecanâtread
mymind,notwhileIwearthemanacles,butthatdoesnâtmakehimuseless.IrelyonmyrealconfusiontocreatethemaskIwanttowear.
IhavenoillusionswhereMavenisconcerned.Iknowhis twistedheart,andthatitfeelssomethingforme.Somethinghewantstogetridof,butcanneverpartwith.Whenhewavesmetohistransport,beckoningformetojoinhim,IexpecttohearEvangelinescofforprotest.Shedoesneither,sweepingaway to her own transport. In the cold, she doesnât glitter so brightly. Sheseemsalmosthuman.
TheArvensdonotfollow,thoughtheytry.Mavenstopsthemwithalook.
HistransportisdifferentfromanyotherIâvebeenin.Thedriverandfrontguard are separated from the passengers by a glass window, sealing us intogether.Thewalls andwindowsare thick,bulletproof.TheSentinelsdonâtslideineither,insteadclimbingdirectlyontothetransportskeleton,takingupdefensivepositionsateverycorner.Itâsunsettling,toknowthereâsaSentinelwithagunsittingdirectlyaboveme.Butnotasunsettlingasthekingsittingacrossfromme,staring,waiting.
Heeyesmyhands,watchingmerubmyfrozenfingerstogether.
âAreyoucold?âhemurmurs.
QuicklyItuckmyhandsundermylegstowarmthemup.Thetransportacceleratesforward.âAreyoureallygoingtodoit?EndtheMeasures?â
âYouthinkIwouldlie?â
Icanâthelpbutlaughdarkly.Inthebackofmymind,Iwishforaknife.IwonderifhecouldincineratemebeforeIslithisthroat.âYou?Never.â
Hesmirksandshrugs,shiftingtogetmorecomfortableontheplushseats.âImeantwhatIsaid.TheMeasureswereamistake.Enactingthemdidmoreharmthangood.â
âToReds?Ortoyou?â
âToboth,ofcourse.AlthoughIwouldthankmyfatherifIcould.Iexpectrighting his wrongs will win me support among your people.â The colddetachment in his voice is discomforting, to say the least. I know now itcomesfrommemoriesofhis father.Poisoned things,drainedofany loveorhappiness.âIâmafraidyourScarletGuardwonâthavemanysympathizersleftbythetimethisisdone.Iâmgoingtoendthemwithoutanotheruselesswar.â
âYou think giving people crumbs is going to placate them?â I growl,gesturingtothewindowswithmychin.Farms,barrenforthewinter,stretch
out to the hills. âOh, lovely, the king has givenme back two years ofmychildâs life. Doesnât matter that theyâre still going to be taken awayeventually.â
Hissmirkonlywidens.âYouthinkthat?â
âIdo.Thatâshowthiskingdomis.Thatâshowitâsalwaysbeen.â
âWeâllsee.âLeaningfarther,heputsafootupontheseatnexttome.Heevenremoveshiscrown,spinsitbetweenhishands.Bronzeandironflamesglint in the low light, reflecting my face and his. Slowly, I edge away,crowdingmyselfintothecorner.
âIsupposeItaughtyouahardlesson,âhesays.âYoumissedsomuchlasttime, and now you trust nothing. Youâre always watching, looking forinformation youâre never going to use. Have you figured out where weâregoingyet?Orwhy?â
Itakeabreath.IfeellikeIâmbackinJulianâsclassroom,beingtestedonamap. The stakes feel much higher here. âWeâre on the Iron Road now,headingnorthwest.ToCorvium.â
Hehasthegalltowink.âClose.â
âWeârenotâŠâIblinkquickly,tryingtothink.Mybrainbuzzesthroughall thepieces Iâve jealouslycollectedover thedays.Shardsofnews,bitsofgossip.âRocasta?AreyougoingafterCal?â
Maven settles back farther, amused. âSo small-minded. Why would Iwaste timechasingrumorsofmyexiledbrother? Ihaveawar toendandarebelliontoprevent.â
âAwartoâŠend?â
âYousaidyourself,theLakelandswilloverthrowusifgiventhechance.Iâmnotgoingtoletthathappen.EspeciallywithPiedmontfocusedelsewhere,on their ownmultitude of troubles. I have to handle thesemattersmyself.âDespitethewarmthofthetransport,dueinlargeparttothefirekingsittinginfrontofme,Ifeelafingeroficetraildownmyspine.
I used to dream of the Choke. The placewheremy father lost his leg,wheremybrothersalmostlosttheirlives.WheresomanyRedsdie.Awasteofashandblood.
âYouârenotawarrior,Maven.Youârenotageneralorasoldier.Howcanyoupossiblyhopetodefeatthemwhenââ
âWhenotherscouldnât?WhenFathercouldnât?WhenCalcouldnât?âhe
snaps.Eachwordsounds like thecrackofbone.âYouâre right, Iâmnot likethem.WarisnotwhatIwasmadefor.â
Made.He says itwith suchease.MavenCalore isnothisown self.Hetoldmeasmuch.Heisaconstruct,acreationofhismotherâsadditionsandsubtractions.Amechanical, amachine, soulless and lost.What a horror, toknowthatsomeonelikethisholdsourfatesinthepalmofhisquiveringhand.
âIt will be no loss, not truly,â he drones on to distract us both. âOurmilitaryeconomywillsimplyturnitsattentiontotheScarletGuard.Andthenwhoever we decide to fear next. Whatever avenue is best for populationcontrolââ
Ifnotforthemanacles,myragewouldcertainlyturnthetransportintoaheapofelectrifiedscrap.Instead,Ijumpforward,lunging,handsstretchedouttograbhimby thecollar.Myfingerswormbeneath the lapelsofhis jacketandIseizefabricinbothfists.Withoutthinking,Ishove,pushing,smashinghimbackintohisseat.Heflinches,ahandâsbreadthfrommyface,breathinghard.Heâs justas surprisedas Iam.Noeasy thing. I immediatelygonumbwithshock,unabletomove,paralyzedbyfear.
Hestaresupatme,eyetoeye,lashesdarkandlong.IâmsoclosetohimIcanseehispupilsdilate.IwishIcoulddisappear.IwishIwereontheothersideoftheworld.Slowly,steadily,hishandsfindmine.Theytightenonmywrists,feelingmanacleandbone.Thenhepriesmyfistsfromhischest.Ilethimmoveme, too terrified for anything else.My skin crawls at his touch,evenbeneathgloves.Iattackedhim.Maven.Theking.Oneword,onetaponthewindow,andaSentinelwillripoutmyspine.Orhecouldkillmehimself.Burnmealive.
âSit back down,â hewhispers, everyword sharp.Givingme one singlechance.
Likeascramblingcat,Idoashesays,retreatingtomycorner.
HerecoversfasterthanIdoandshakeshisheadwiththeghostofasmile.Quicklyhesmoothshisjacketandbrushesbackalockofrumpledhair.
âYouâre a smart girl, Mare. Donât tell me you never connected thoseparticulardots.â
Mybreathcomeshard,asifthereâsastonesittingonmychest.Ifeelheatrise inmycheeks,bothoutofangerandshame.âTheywantourcoast.Ourelectricity.Wewanttheirfarmlands,resourcesâŠâIstumbleoverthewordsIwas taught in a ramshackle schoolhouse. The look on Mavenâs face only
becomesmoreamused.âInJulianâsbooksâŠthekingsdisagreed.Twomenarguing over a chessboard like spoiled children. Theyâre the reason for allthis.Forahundredyearsofwar.â
âI thoughtJuliantaughtyoutoreadbetweenthelines.Toseethewordsleftunsaid.âHeshakeshishead,despairingofme.âIsupposeevenhecouldnot undo your years of poor education. Another well-used tactic, I mightadd.â
ThatIknew.ThatIâvealwaysknown,andlamented.Redsarekeptstupid,keptignorant.Itmakesusweakerthanwealreadyare.Myownparentscanâtevenread.
Iblinkawayhottearsoffrustration.Youknewallthis,Itellmyself,tryingtocalmdown.Thewar is a ruse, a cover to keepRedsunder control.Oneconflictmayend,butanotherwillalwaysbegin.
It twists my insides to realize how rigged the game has been, foreveryone,forsoverylong.
âStupidpeopleareeasier tocontrol.Whydoyou thinkmymotherkeptmyfatheraroundforsolong?Hewasadrunk,aheartbrokenimbecile,blindtosomuch,contenttokeepthingsastheywere.Easytocontrol,easytouse.Apersontomanipulateâandblame.â
Furious,Iswipeatmyface,tryingtohideanyevidenceofmyemotions.Maven watches anyway, his expression softening a little. As if that helpsanything. âSo what are two Silver kingdoms going to do once they stopthrowingRedsateachother?âIhiss.âStartmarchingusoffcliffsatrandom?Pullnamesoutofalottery?â
Herestsahandonhischin.âIcanâtbelieveCalnevertoldyouanyofthis.Althoughhewasnât really jumping at the opportunity to change things, notevenforyou.Probablydidnâtthinkyoucouldhandleitâor,well,perhapshedidnâtthinkyouwouldunderstanditââ
My fist slams against the bulletproof glass of the window. It smartsinstantly,andIburymyselfinthepain,usingittokeepanythoughtsofCalatbay. I canât letmyself fall into that drowning spiral, even if itâs true. EventhoughCalwasoncewillingtoupholdthesehorrors.âDonât,âIsnapathim.âDonât.â
âIâmnotafool,littlelightninggirl.âHissnarlmatchesmyown.âIfyouâregoingtoplayinmyhead,Iâmgoingtoplayinyours.Itâswhatweâregoodat.â
Iwascoldbefore,butnowtheheatofhisangerthreatenstoconsumeme.
Feelingsick,Ipressmycheekagainstthecoolglassofthewindowandshutmyeyes.âDonâtcomparemetoyou.Weârenotthesame.â
âPeoplelikeus,âhescoffs.âWelietoeveryone.Especiallyourselves.â
Iwanttopunchthewindowagain.Instead,Ituckmyfiststightundermyarms, trying to make myself smaller. Maybe Iâll just shrink away anddisappear. With every breath, I regret getting into his transport more andmore.
âYouâllnevergettheLakelandstoagree,âIsay.
Ihearhimlaughdeepinhisthroat.âFunny.Theyalreadyhave.â
Myeyesflyopeninshock.
He nods, looking pleased with himself. âGovernor Welle facilitated ameetingwithoneof their topministers.Hehascontacts in thenorthand iseasilyâŠpersuaded.â
âProbablybecauseyouholdhisdaughterhostage.â
âProbably,âheagrees.
Sothatâswhat this touris.Asolidifyingofpower, thecreationofanewalliance. A twisting of arms and bending of wills by whatever meansnecessary. Iknewitwasforsomethingother thanspectacle,but thisâthisIcould not fathom. I think of Farley, the Colonel, their Lakelander soldierspledgedtotheScarletGuard.Whatwillatrucedotothem?
âDonât look so glum. Iâm ending awarmillions died for, and bringingpeacetoacountrythatnolongerknowsthemeaningoftheword.Youshouldbeproudofme.Youshouldbethankingme.DonâtââHeputshishandsupindefenseasIspitathim.
âYou really need to figure out another way to express your anger,â hegrumbles,wipingathisuniform.
âTakeoffmymanaclesandIâllshowyouone.â
Hebarksoutalaugh.âYes,ofcourse,MissBarrow.â
Outside,theskydarkensandtheworldfadestogray.Iputapalmtotheglass,willingmyselftofallthrough.Nothinghappens.Iâmstillhere.
âImustsay,Iamsurprised,âheadds.âWehavefarmoreincommonwiththeLakelandsthanyouthink.â
MyjawtightensandIspeakthroughgrittedteeth.âYoubothuseRedsas
slavesandcannonfodder.â
HesitsupsoquicklyIflinch.âWebothwanttoendtheScarletGuard.â
Itâs almost comical. Every step I take explodes inmy face. I tried to saveKilornfromconscriptionandmaimedmysister instead.Ibecameamaidtohelp my family and within hours became a prisoner. I believed MavenâswordsandMavenâsfalseheart.ItrustedCaltochooseme.IraidedaprisontofreepeopleandendedupclutchingShadeâscorpse.IsacrificedmyselftosavethepeopleIlove.IgaveMavenaweapon.Andnow,tryasImighttothwarthisreignfromtheinside,IthinkIâvedonesomethingmuchworse.WhatwillaunitedLakelandsandNortalooklike?
DespitewhatMavensaid,weheadtoRocastaanyway,barrelingonaftermorecoronationstopsthroughouttheWestlakesregion.Wewonâtstay.Eitherthere isnât a stately home suitable enough forMavenâs court, or he simplydoesnât want to be there. I can see why. Rocasta is a military city. Not afortress like Corvium, but built to support the army all the same. An uglything,formedforfunction.Thecitysitsseveralmilesoff thebanksofLakeTarion, and the Iron Road runs through its heart. It bisects Rocasta like ablade,separatingthewealthierSilversectorofthecityfromtheRed.Withnowalls to speak of, the city creeps up on me. The shadows of houses andbuildingsappearoutofthewhiteblindnessofablizzard.Silverstormsworktokeepourroadclear,battlingtheweathertokeepthekingonschedule.Theystandontopofourtransports,directingthesnowandicearounduswithevenmotions. Without them, the weather would be much worse, a hammer ofbrutalwinter.
Still, snow blasts against the windows of my transport, obscuring theworldoutside.TherearenomorewindweaversfromthetalentedHouseLaris.Theyâreeitherdeadorgone,havingfledwiththeotherrebellinghouses,andtheSilversremainingcanonlydosomuch.
From what little I can see, Rocasta carries on despite the storm. Redworkersmove toand fro,clutchingat lanterns, their lightsbobbing throughthe haze like fish inmurkywater. Theyâre used to this kind ofweather soclosetothelakes.
Isettledownintomylongcoat,gladforthewarmth,evenifthecoatisabloodredmonstrosity.IglanceattheArvens,stillcladintheirusualwhite.
âAre you scared?â I chatter to the empty air. I donât wait for theirnonexistentresponse,allofthemquietlyfocusedonignoringmyvoice.âWecould lose you in a storm like this.â I sigh to myself, crossing my arms.
âWishfulthinking.â
Mavenâstransportrollsaheadofmine,spottedwithSentinelguards.Likemy coat, they stand out sharply in the snowstorm, their flaming robes abeacontotherestofus.Iâmsurprisedtheydonâttakeofftheirmasksdespitethe low visibility. They must revel in looking inhuman and frighteningâmonsterstodefendanothermonster.
OurconvoyturnsofftheIronRoadsomewherenearthecenterofthecity,speeding down a wide avenue crisscrossed with twinkling lights. Opulenttownhouses andwalled citymanors rise up from the street, theirwindowswarm and inviting. Up ahead, a clock tower fades in and out of visibility,occasionallyobscuredbydriftinggustsofsnow.It tolls threeoâclockasweapproach,gongingpealsofsoundthatseemtoreverberateinsidemyribcage.
Dark shadows plunge along the street, deepening with every passingsecondasthestormgetsstronger.WeâreintheSilversector,evidencedbythelackoftrashandbedraggledRedsroamingthealleys.Enemyterritory.AsifIâmnotalreadyasdeeplybehindenemylinesaspossible.
Atcourt, therewere rumorsaboutRocasta,andCal inparticular.A fewsoldiers had received a tip that he was in the city, or some old man hadthought heâd seen him andwanted rations in exchange for the information.Butthesamecouldbesaidofsomanyplaces.Heâdbestupidtocomehere,toa city still firmlyunderMavenâs control.EspeciallywithCorvium so closeby.Ifheâssmart,heisfaraway,wellhidden,helpingtheScarletGuardasbesthe can. Strange to think that House Laris, House Iral, and House Havenrebelled inhis honor, for an exiledprincewhowill never claim the throne.Whatawaste.
TheadministrativebuildingbeneaththeclocktowerisornatecomparedtotherestofRocasta,moreakintothecolumnsandcrystalofWhitefirePalace.Ourconvoyglidestoahaltbeforeit,spittingusoutintothesnow.
I hustle up the steps as quickly as I can, drawingup the infuriating redcollar against the cold. Inside, I expect warmth and a waiting audience tohangonMavenâseverycalculatedword.Instead,wefindchaos.
This was once a grand meeting hall: the walls are lined with plushbenchesandseating,nowpushedaside.Mosthavebeenstackedontopofoneanother,clearedtomakeroomonthemainfloor.Iâmseizedbythescentofblood.AstrangethingforahallfullofSilvers.
ButthenIsee:itisnotsomuchahallasahospital.
Allthewoundedareofficers,laidoutoncotsinneatrows.Icountthreedozen at a glance. Their liveried uniforms and neat medals mark them asmilitary of varying ranks, with insignia from any number ofHighHouses.Skinhealersattendasfastastheycan,butonlytwoareonduty,markedbythe red-and-silver crosses on their shoulders. They sprint back and forth,seeingtoinjuriesinorderofseriousness.Onejumpsupfromamoaningmantokneeloverawomancoughingupsilverblood,herchinmetal-brightwiththeliquid.
âSentinelSkonos,âMavensaysgravely.âHelpwhoyoucan.â
Oneofhismaskedguardsreactswithastiltedbow,breakingrankwiththerestofthekingâsdefenders.
Moreofusfilein,crowdinganalready-crowdedroom.Afewmembersofcourtabandonproprietytosearchthesoldiers,lookingforfamily.Othersaresimplyhorrified.Theirkindarenâtmeanttobleed.Notlikethis.
Aheadofme,Mavenlooksbackandforth,handsonhiships.IfIdidnâtknowhimbetter,Iwouldthinkhimaffected,angryorsad.Butthisisabouttobeanotherperformance.EventhoughtheseareSilverofficers,Ifeelapangofpityforthem.
The hospital hall is proof my Arvens are not made of stone. To mysurprise,Kitten is theone tobreakfirst,hereyeswateringwith tearsasshelooks around. She fixes her gaze on the far end of the hall.White shroudscoverbodies.Corpses.Adozendead.
Atmyfeet,ayoungmanhissesoutabreath.Hekeepsahandpressedtohis chest, putting pressure onwhatmust be an internalwound. I lock eyeswith him, noting his uniform and his face. Older than me, classicallyhandsome beneath streaks of silver blood. Black-and-gold house colors.HouseProvos,a telky. Itdoesnât takehim long to recognizeme.Hisbrowsraise a little in realization, andhe struggles for anotherbreath.Beneathmygaze,heshakes.Heâsafraidofme.
âWhat happened?â I ask him. In the din of the hall,myvoice is barelymorethanawhisper.
Idonâtknowwhyheresponds.MaybehethinksIâllkillhimifhedoesnât.Maybehewantssomeonetoknowwhatâsreallygoingon.
âCorvium,â he murmurs back. The Provos officer wheezes, fighting topushoutthewords.âScarletGuard.Itâsamassacre.â
Fearshiversinmyvoice.âForwho?â
Hehesitates,andIwait.
Finallyhedrawsaraggedbreath.
âBoth.â
FIFTEENCameron
IdidnâtknowwhatcouldpossiblyspurtheexiledprincetoactionâuntilKingMavenbeganhisbleedingcoronationtour.Clearlyaruse,definitelyanotherplot.Anditwasheadedstraightforus.Everyonesuspectedanattack.Andwehadtostrikefirst.
Calwasrightaboutonething.TakingthewallsofCorviumwasourbestplanofaction.
Sohedidittwodaysago.
Working in conjunction with the Colonel and rebels already inside thefortress city,Cal led a strike forceofScarletGuard andnewblood soldiers.Theblizzardwas theircover,and theshockofanassault served themwell.Calknewbetterthantoaskmetojoin.IwaitedbackinRocastawithFarley.Bothofuspacedbytheradio,eagerfornews.Ifellasleep,butsheshookmeawake before dawn, grinning. We held the walls. Corvium never saw itcoming.Thecityboiledinchaos.
Andwecouldnolongerstaybehind.Notevenme.Admittedly,Iwantedtogo.Nottofight,buttoseewhatvictoryactuallylookedlike.Andofcourseto get one step closer to the Choke, my brother, and some semblance ofpurpose.
So here I am, shrouded in the tree line with the rest of Farleyâs unit,lookingoutatblackwallsandblackersmoke.Corviumburnsfromwithin.Icanât see much, but I know the reports. Thousands of Red soldiers, somespurred on by the Guard, turned on their officers as soon as Cal and theColonelattacked.Thecitywasalreadyapowderkeg.Fittingthatafireprincelitthefuseandletitexplode.Evennow,adaylater,thefightingcontinuesaswe take thecity, streetby street.Theoccasionalburstofgunfirebreaks therelativesilence,makingmeflinch.
Ilookaway,tryingtoseefartherthanhumanreach.Theskyhereisdarkalready, the sun obscured by a cloudy gray sky. To the northwest, in theChoke, thecloudsareblack,heavywithashanddeath.Morreyisout there,somewhere. Even thoughMaven released the underage conscripts, his unit
hasnâtmoved,accordingtoour last intelligencereports.Theyârethefarthestaway, deep in a trench. And the Scarlet Guard happens to be currentlyoccupyingtheplacehisunitwouldreturnto.Itrytoblockouttheimageofmy twin huddled against the cold, his uniform too big, his eyes dark andsunken. But the thought is burned into my brain. I turn away, back toCorvium, to the taskathand. Ineed tokeepmyfocushere.Thesoonerwetakethecity,thesoonerwecangettheconscriptsmoving.Andthenwhat?Iaskmyself.Sendhimhome?Toanotherhellhole?
Ihavenoanswersforthevoiceinmyhead.Icanbarelystomachtheideaof sending Morrey back to the factories of New Town, even if it meanssendinghimbacktoourparents.Theyâremynextgoal,afterIgetmybrotherback.Oneimpossibledreamafteranother.
âTwoSilvers just threwaRedsoldier froma tower.âAdasquints intoapairofbinoculars.Nexttoher,Farleyremainsstill,armscalmlyfoldedacrossherchest.
Ada continues to scan the walls, reading signals. In the gray light, hergoldenskintakesonasallowhue.Ihopesheisnâtgettingsick.
âTheyâre solidifying their position, retreating and regrouping into thecentral sector, behind the second ring wall. I calculate fifty at least,â shemurmurs.
Fifty.Itrytoswallowmyfear.Itellmyselfthereâsnoreasontobeafraid.Thereâsanarmybetweenusandthem.AndnooneisstupidenoughtotrytoforcemeanywhereIdonâtwanttogo.Notnow,notwithmonthsoftrainingbehindme.
âCasualties?â
âAhundredoftheSilvergarrisondead.Mostoftheinjuredescapedwiththerestintothewilderness.ProbablytoRocasta.Andtherewerelessthanathousandinthecity.ManyhaddefectedtotherebellinghousesbeforeCalâsassault.â
âWhat about Calâs newest report?â Farley asks Ada. âThe Silversdeserting?â
âIincludedthatinmycalculations.âShealmostsoundsannoyed.Almost.Ada has a calmer disposition than any of us. âSeventy-eight are in holdingnow,underCalâsprotection.â
I put my hands on my hips, setting my weight. âThereâs a differencebetweendefectionandsurrender.Theydonâtwanttojoinus;theyjustdonât
wanttoendupdead.TheyknowCalwillshowmercy.â
âWould you rather he kill them all? Set everyone against us?â Farleysnaps back, turning tome.After a second, shewaves a hand dismissively.âThereâs over five hundred of them still out there, ready to comeback andslaughterusall.â
Ada ignores our jabbering and keeps her vigil. Up until she joined theScarletGuard,shewasahousemaidtoaSilvergovernor.Sheâsusedtomuchworsethanus.âIseeJulianandSaraabovethePrayerGate,âshesays.
Ifeelasqueezeofcomfort.WhenCalradioedin,hedidnâtmentionanycasualtiesonhisteam,butnothingisevercertain.IâmgladSaraisallright.Isquint toward the forbidding Prayer Gate, looking for the black-and-goldentryontheeastendoftheCorviumwalls.Ontopoftheparapets,aredflagwavesbackandforth,barelyaglimmerofcoloragainsttheovercastsky.Adatranslates.âTheyâresignalingforus.Safepassage.â
SheglancesatFarley,waitingforherorder.WiththeColonelinthecity,sheâstherankingofficerhere,andherwordisgoodaslaw.Thoughshegivesno indication of it, I realize shemust beweighingher options.Wehave tocrossopengroundtogettothegates.Itcouldeasilybeatrap.
âDoyouseetheColonel?â
Good.ShedoesnâttrustaSilver.Notwithourlives.
âNo,âAdabreathes.Shescansthewallsagain,herbrighteyestakingineveryblockofstone.IwatchhermotionsasFarleywaits,stillandstern.âCaliswiththem.â
âFine,â Farley says suddenly, her eyes lividly blue and resolute. âLetâsmoveout.â
Ifollowherbegrudgingly.AsmuchasImayhatetoadmitit,Calisnâtthetypetodouble-crossus.Notfatally,atleast.Heâsnothisbrother.ImeetAdaâseyesoverFarleyâsshoulder.Theothernewbloodinclinesherheadalittleaswewalk.
Ishoveclenchedfists intomypockets.IfI looklikeasullenteenager,Idonât care.Thatâswhat I am: a scared, sullen teenagerwho can killwith alook.Feareatsmeup.Fearofthecityâandfearofmyself.
I havenât used my ability outside training in months, not since themagnetronbastardspulledourjetoutofthesky.ButIrememberwhatitfeelslike, to use silence as a weapon. In Corros Prison, I killed people with it.
Horriblepeople.Silverskeepingotherslikemetrappedtoslowlydie.Andthememorystillmakesmesick.Ifelttheirheartsstop.Ifelttheirdeathsliketheywere happening tome. Such powerâit frightensme. It makesmewonderwhatIcouldbecome.IthinkofMare,thewayshericochetedbetweenviolentrageandnumbdetachment.Isthatthepriceofabilitieslikeours?Dowehavetochooseâbecomeempty,orbecomemonsters?
Wesetoutinsilence,allofushyperawareofourprecariousposition.Westandoutsharplyinthefreshsnow,pickingalonginoneanotherâsfootprints.ThenewbloodsinFarleyâsunitareparticularlyonedge.OneofMareâsown,Lory,leadsuswiththeawarenessofabloodhound,herheadwhippingbackand forth.Her senses are incredibly heightened, so if thereâs any imminentattack, sheâll see it, hear it, or smell it coming. After the raid on CorrosPrison, afterMarewas taken, she starteddyeingher hair bloodred. It lookslikeawoundagainstthesnowandironsky.Ilevelmygazeonhershoulderblades,readytorunifshesomuchashesitates.
Evenpregnant,Farleymanages to lookcommanding.Shepulls the riflefrom her back, holds it in both hands. But she isnât as alert as the others.Againhereyesslideinandoutoffocus.Ifeelafamiliarpangofsadnessforher.
âDidyoucomeherewithShade?âIaskherquietly.
Shesnapsherheadinmydirection.âWhydoyousaythat?â
âForaspy,youâreprettyeasytoreadsometimes.â
Herfingersdrumalongthebarrelofhergun.âLikeIsaid,ShadeisstillourmainsourceofinformationonCorvium.Iranhisoperationhere.Thatâsall.â
âSure,Farley.â
Wecontinueoninsilence.Ourbreathmistsontheairandthecoldsetsin,taking my toes first. In New Town we had winter, but never like this.Something todowith thepollution.And theheat fromthefactorieskeptussweatingatwork,eveninthedepthsofwinter.
FarleyisaLakelanderbybirth,bettersuitedto theweather.Shedoesnâtseem to notice the snow or the prickling cold. Hermind is still obviouslysomewhereelse.Withsomeoneelse.
âI guess itâs a good thing I didnât go aftermy brother,â Imutter to thesilence.Bothformyselfandforher.Somethingelsetothinkabout.âIâmgladheisnâthere.â
Sheglancesatmesidelong.Hereyesnarrowwithsuspicion.âIsCameronColeadmittingshewaswrongaboutsomething?â
âIcandothatmuch.IâmnotMare.â
Anotherpersonmightthinkthatrudetosay.Farleygrinsinstead.âShadewasstubborntoo.Familytrait.â
Iexpecthisnametoactasananchor,draggingherdown.Instead,itkeepshermoving,onefootinfrontoftheother.Onewordafterthenext.âImethima fewmiles from here. I was supposed to be recruitingWhistle operativesfrom theNortan blackmarket.Use organizations already in place to betterfacilitatetheScarletGuard.TheWhistleintheStiltsgavemealeadonsomesoldiersupherewhomightbewillingtocoordinate.â
âShadewasoneofthem.â
She nods, thoughtful. âHe was assigned to Corvium with the supporttroops.Anofficerâsaide.Agoodpositionforhim,evenbetterforus.Hefedthe Scarlet Guard miles of information, all funneled through me. Until itbecameclearhecouldnâtstayanylonger.Hewasbeingtransferredtoanotherlegion.Someoneknewhehadanability,andtheyweregoingtoexecutehimforit.â
Iâve never heard this story. I doubt few have. Farley is not exactlyforthcomingwithherpersonalhistory.Whysheâstellingmenow,Icanâtsay.ButIcanseesheneedsto.Ilethertalk,givingherwhatshewants.
âAndthenwhenhissisterâŠIâveneverseenhimsoterrified.WewatchedQueenstrialtogether.Watchedherfall,watchedherlightning.HethoughttheSilversweregoingtokillher.Youknowtherestofthat,Iassume.âShebitesalip,lookingdownthelengthofherrifle.âItwashisidea.Wealreadyhadtoget him out of the army to protect him. So he faked his execution report.Helped with the paperwork himself. Then he was gone. Silvers donât careenoughtofollowthroughondeadReds.Ofcourse,hisfamilyminded.Thatpartstuckhimforawhile.â
âButhestilldidit.âItrytobeunderstanding,butIcanâtimagineputtingmyownfamilythroughsomethinglikethat,notforanything.
âHe had to. Andâand it served as a goodmotivation.Mare joined upaftershefoundout.OneBarrowforanother.â
âSo that part of her speechwasnât a lie.â I think aboutwhatMarewasforcedtosay,glaringdownacameralikeitwasafiringsquad.TheyaskedifIwantedvengeanceforhisdeath.âNowondershehaspersonality issues.No
onetellsthegirlthetruthaboutanything.â
âItâllbealongroadbackforher,âFarleymurmurs.
âForeveryone.â
âAndnowsheâsonthatinfernaltourwiththeking,âFarleyrattleson.Shespools up like a machine, her voice gaining momentum and strength witheverypassingsecond.Shadeâsghostdisappears.âItwillmake things easier.Stillhorriblydifficult,ofcourse,buttheknotisloosened.â
âIsthereaplaninplace?Sheâsgettingcloserbytheday.Arborus,theIronRoadââ
âShewasinRocastayesterday.â
The silence around us shifts. If the rest of our unit werenât listeningbefore, they certainly are now. I look back to lock my gaze on Ada. Herliquid-ambereyeswiden,andIcanalmostseethecogsturninginherflawlessmind.
Farleypresseson.âThekingvisitedthewoundedsoldiersevacuatedfromthefirstwaveofattack.Ididnâtknowuntilwewerehalfwayhere. If Ihad,maybeâŠâshebreathes.âWell,itâstoolateforthatnow.â
âThe king practically travels with an army,â I tell her. âSheâs guardednightandday.Therewasnothingyoucouldhavedone,notwithjustus.â
Stillhercheeksflush,andnotfromthecold.Herfingerskeeptappingidlyonthestockofhergun.âProbablynot,âshereplies.âProbablynot.âSofter,toconvinceherself.
Corviumcastsashadowoverus,andthetemperaturedropsinthegloomyshade. I pull up the neck of my collar farther, trying to burrow into itswarmth.Theblack-walledmonstrosityseemstohowlatus.
âThere.ThePrayerGate.âFarleypoints toanopenmouthof iron fangsandgoldenteeth.BlocksofSilentStonelinethearch,butIcanâtfeel them.They donât affectme. Tomy relief, Red soldiersman the gate,marked byrust-coloreduniformsandwornboots.Wemoveforward,offthesnowyroadandintothejawsofCorvium.FarleylooksupatthePrayerGateaswepassthrough, her eyes wide, blue, and trembling. Under her breath, I hear herwhispersomethingtoherself.
âAsyouenter,youpraytoleave.Asyouleave,youpraynevertoreturn.â
Eventhoughnooneislistening,Ipraytoo.
Cal bends over a desk, knuckles pressed against the flat of the wood. Hisarmorpilesinaheapinthecorner,platesofblackleatherdiscardedtoshowthemuscledhulkoftheyoungmanbeneath.Sweatplastersblackhairtohisforeheadandpaintsglisteninglinesofexertiondownhisneck.Notfromheat,though his ability warms the room better than any fire. No, this is fear.Shame.IwonderhowmanySilvershewasforcedtokill.Notenough,partofmewhispers.Still,thesightofhim,thehorrorsofthesiegeplainlywrittenonhis face, gives evenme enough reason to pause. I know this is not easy. Itcanâtbe.
Hestaresatnothing,bronzeeyesboringholes.HedoesnâtmovewhenIentertheroom,trailingbehindFarley.ShegoestotheColonel,sittingacrossfromhim,onehandonhistemple,theothersmoothingamaporschematicofsomekind.ProbablyCorvium,judgingbytheoctagonalshapeandexpandingringsthatmustbewalls.
IfeelAdaatmyback,hesitanttojoinus.Ihavetogiveheranudge.Sheâsbetteratthisthananyone,herexquisitebrainagifttotheScarletGuard.Butamaidâstrainingishardtobreak.
âGoon,âImurmur,puttingahandonherwrist.Herskinisnâtasdarkasmine,butintheshadowsweallstarttoblendtogether.
Shegivesmeatinynodandaneventiniersmile.âWhichringaretheyin?Central?â
âCoretower,âtheColonelreplies.Herapsthecorrespondingplaceonthemap. âWell fortified, even at the subterranean levels. Learned that the hardway.â
Ada sighs. âYes, the core is built for something like this.A final stand,wellarmedandprovisioned.Sealedtwiceover.Andstuffedtothebrimwithfifty trained Silvers.With the bottleneck, theremight aswell be five timesthatnumberinthere.â
âLikespidersinahole,âImutter.
TheColonelscoffs.âMaybetheyâllstarttoeateachother.â
Calâs wince does not go unnoticed. âNot while a common enemyhammersatthedoor.NothingunitesSilverssomuchassomeonetohate.âHedoesnât look up from the desk, keeping his eyes fixed on the wood. Themeaningisclear.âEspeciallynowthateveryoneknowsthekingisnear.âHisfacedarkens,astormcloud.âTheycanwait.â
Withalowgrowl,Farleyfinishesthethoughtforhim.âAndwecanât.â
âIfordered,thelegionsoftheChokecanhardmarchbackhereinadayâstime.LessifâŠmotivated.âAdawaversoverthelastword.Shedoesnâtneedtoelaborate.Icanalreadyseemybrother,technicallyfreedbyMavenâsnewlaws,beingdrivenonbySilverofficers,forcedtorunthroughthesnow.Onlytothrowhimselfagainsthisown.
âSurelytheRedswouldjoinus,âIsay,thinkingaloud,ifonlytocombattheimagesinmyhead.âLetMavensendhisarmies.Itwillonlybolsterours.Thesoldierswillturnliketheonesheredid.â
âShe might have a pointââ the Colonel begins, agreeing with me foronce.Astrangesensation.ButFarleycutshimoff.
âMight.ThegarrisoninCorviumhasbeenstirredupformonths,incitingitsownhavoc,pushedandproddedandboiled to thisexplosion. Icanâtsaythe same for the legions. Or the amount of Silvers heâll convince intoservice.â
Adaagreeswithher,noddingalong.âKingMavenhasbeencarefulwiththeCorviumnarrative.Hepaintseverythinghereasterrorism,notrebellion.Anarchy.Theworkofabloodthirsty,genocidalScarletGuard.TheRedsofthelegions,theRedsofthekingdom,havenoideawhatâshappeninghere.â
Seething,Farleyputsaprotectivehandonherbelly.âIâvelostenoughonifsandmaybes.â
âWeallhave,âCalsays,hisvoicedistant.Finallyhepullsawayfromthedesk and turns his back on us all.He crosses to thewindow in a few longstrides,lookingoutoveracitystillburning.
Smokedriftsontheicywind,spittingblackintothesky.Itremindsmeofthefactories.Ishuddertorememberthem.Thetattooonmyneckitches,butIdonâtscratchwithmycrookedfingers.Brokentoomanytimestocount.Saraaskedtofixthemonce.Ididnâtlether.Likethetattoo,likethesmoke,theyremindmeofwhatIcamefrom,andwhatnooneelseshouldendure.
âIdonâtsupposeyouhaveanyideasforthis?âFarleyasks,takingthemapfromherfatherâshands.Sheglancessidelongattheexiledprince.
Calshrugs,hisbroadshouldersrollinginsilhouette.âToomany.Allbad.Unlessââ
âIâm not going to let them walk out of here,â the Colonel snaps. Hesounds annoyed. I suppose they argued this through already. âMaven is tooclose. Theyâll run to his side and come backwith a vengeance,withmorewarriors.â
The gleaming bracelet atCalâswrist flickers, birthing sparks that travelalonghisarminaquickburstofredflame.âMaveniscominganyway!Youheard the reports.Heâsalready inRocastaandmovingwest.Heâsmarchinghere in aparade,wavingand smiling tohide thatheâs coming to takebackCorvium.And heâll do it if you fight him in a broken citywith our backsagainstacageofwolves!âHespinsaroundtofacetheColonel,shouldersstillsmolderingwithembers.Usuallyhecancontrolhimself enough to savehisclothes. Not so now. Smoke clings to him, revealing charred holes in hisundershirt.âAbattleontwofrontsissuicide.â
âAndwhatabouthostages?Youmeantotellmethereâsnooneofvalueinthattower?âtheColonelbarksback.
âNot to Maven. He already has the only person he would ever tradeanythingfor.â
âSowecanâtstarvethem,canâtreleasethem,canâtbargain.âFarleyticksoffwordsonherhand.
âAndyoucanâtkill themall.âI tapafingeragainstmylip.Cal looksatme, surprised. I simplyshrug.âIf therewasaway, if itwasacceptable, theColonelwouldhavedoneitalready.â
âAda?âFarleyprodssoftly.âCanyouseeanythingwecanât?â
Her eyes fly back and forth, scanning the schematic as well as hermemories. Figures, strategies, everything at her mammoth disposal. Hersilenceisnotatallcomforting.
âWhatweneedisthatbleedingseer,âImumble.InevermetJon,theonewhomade it possible forMare to find and captureme. But Iâve seen himenoughonMavenâsbroadcasts.âMakehimdotheworkforus.â
âIfhewantedtohelp,heâdbehere.Butthatdamnedghostisinthewind,âCal curses. âDidnât evenhave the decency to takeMarewith himwhenheescaped.â
âNo use dwelling on what we canât change.â Farley scuffs her bootagainst thecold floor. âSo isbrute force theonly thing left tous?Take thetowerdownstonebystone?Payforeveryinchwithagallonofblood?â
BeforeCalcanexplodeagain,thedoorwrenchesopen.JulianandSaraallbut tumble inside, both of themwide-eyed and silver-flushed. TheColoneljumpstohisfeet,insurpriseanddefense.NoneofusarefoolswhereSilversareconcerned.Ourfearofthemisbone-deep,bredintoourblood.
âWhat is it?â he asks, his red eye a scarlet gleam. âDone with theinterrogationsosoon?â
Julian bristles at the word interrogation, sneering. âMy questions are amercycomparedtowhatyouwoulddo.â
âPah,âFarley scoffs.SheeyesCalandhe shifts, embarrassedunderhergaze.âDonâttellmeaboutSilvermercy.â
I care little for Julian and trust him less, but the look on Saraâs face isstartling.Shestaresatme,hergrayfacefullofpityandfear.âWhatisit?âIaskher,thoughIknowonlyJuliancananswer.EveninCorvium,shehasnâtyetfoundanotherskinhealerwillingtoreturnhertongue.Allofthemmustbeinthecoretower,ordead.
âGeneralMacanthosoverseestrainingcommand,âJuliansays.LikeSara,heglancesatmewithhesitation.Mypulsepoundsinmyears.Whateverheâsabouttosay,Iwonâtlike.âBeforethesiege,partofalegionwasrecalledforfurtherinstruction.Theywereunfittomanthetrenches.EvenforReds.â
My rushing blood starts to howl inmy ears, a gale that almost drownsJulianout.IfeelAdasteptomyside,hershoulderbrushingmine.Sheknowswherethisisgoing.Idotoo.
âWe retrieved the rolls. A few hundred children of the Dagger Legion,called back to Corvium. Unreleased, even after Mavenâs decree. Weaccounted for most, but some âŠâ Julian forces himself on, though hestumblesoverthewords.âTheyârehostages.Inthecore,withtheremainingSilverofficers.â
Iputahandtothecoolofficewall,lettingitsteadyme.Mysilencebegs,pushingbeneathmyskin,wantingtoexpandanddragdowneverythingintheroom.Ihavetosaythewordsmyself,becauseapparentlyJulianwonât.âMybrotherisinthere.â
TheSilverbastardhesitates,drawingitout.Finally,hespeaks.âWethinkso.â
Theroarofmythrummingheartoverpowerstheirvoices.Ihearnothingas I run from the room, evading their hands, sprinting down through theadministrativeheadquarters.Ifanyonefollows,Idonâtknow.Idonâtcare.
The only thing onmymind isMorrey.Morrey and the fifty soon-to-becorpsesstandingbetweenus.
IamnotMareBarrow.Iwillnotgivemybrothertothis.
My silence curls aroundme, heavy as smoke, soft as feathers, drippingfrom every pore like sweat. It isnât a physical thing. Itwonât tear the coredownforme.Myabilityisforfleshandfleshalone.Iâvebeenpracticing.Itscares me, but I need it. Like a hurricane, the silence churns around me,surroundingtheeyeofagrowingstorm.
IdonâtknowwhereIâmgoing,butCorviumiseasytonavigate.Andthecore is self-explanatory. The city is orderly, well planned, a giant gear. Iunderstand that.My feet slam against the pavement, propellingme throughtheouterward.Onmyleft, thehighwallsofCorviumscrapeat thesky.Tothe right, barracks,offices, training facilitiespile against the second ringofgranitewalls.Ihavetofindthenextgate,startworkinginward.Mycrimsonscarf is camouflage enough. I look like Scarlet Guard. I could be ScarletGuard.TheRedsoldiersletmerun,toodistractedortooexcitedortoobusyto care about another wayward rebel tearing through their midst. Theyâveoverthrowntheirmasters.Iâmasgoodasinvisibletothem.
ButnottoHisBleedingRoyalHighness,TiberiasCalore.
Hegrabsmyarm,forcingmetospin.Ifnotformysilencepulsingaroundus,Iknowhewouldbeonfire.Theprinceissmart,usingourmomentumtotossmebackâandkeephimselfoutofmydeadlyhands.
âCameron!â he shouts, one hand outstretched. His fingers flicker, theflames on them gasping for air.When he takes another step back, plantinghimself firmly inmypath, theyblaze stronger, lickingup tohis elbow.Hisarmor is back on. Interlocking plates of leather and steel thicken hissilhouette.âCameron,youâlldieifyougointhetoweralone.Theyâllripyouapart.â
âWhatdoyoucare?âIsnarlback.Myboneslock,jointstightening,andIpushabitmore.Thesilencereacheshim.Hisfireguttersandhisthroatbobs.Hefeelsit.Iâmhurtinghim.Holdit.Rememberyourconstant.Nottoomuch,nottoolittle.Ipushabitmoreandhetakesanotherstepback,anotherstepinthe direction Imust go.The secondgate tauntsme fromover his shoulder.âIâmhereforonereason.âIdonâtwanttofighthim.Ijustwanthimtostandaside.âIâmnotlettingyourpeoplekillhim.â
âI know!âhegrowls back, his voiceguttural. Iwonder if all of his firekindhaveeyeslikehis.Eyesthatburnandsmolder.âIknowyouâregoinginthere.SowouldIifâsowouldI.â
âThenletmego.â
He sets his jaw, a picture of determination. A mountain. Even now, in
burnedclothes,bruised,hisbodyawreckandhismindaruin,helookslikeaking.Calisexactlythekindofpersonwhowillneverkneel.Itâsnotinhim.Hewasnotmadethatway.
ButIâvebeenbrokentoomanytimestobreakagain.
âCal,letmego.Letmegethim.âItsoundslikebegging.
Thistimehestepsforward.Andtheflamesonhisfingersturnblue,sohotthey singe the air. Still they waver before my ability, fighting to breathe,fightingtoburn.IcouldsnuffthemoutifIwantedto.Icouldseizeallthatheisand tearhimapart,killhim, feeleverycentimeterofhimdie.Partofmewantsto.Afoolishpart,ruledbyangerandrageandblindvengeance.Iletitfuelmyability,letitmakemestrong,butIdonâtletitcontrolme.JustasSarataught.Itâsathinlinetowalk.
Hiseyesnarrow,asifheknowswhatIâmthinking.SoIâmsurprisedwhenhesaysthewords.Ialmostdonâthearthemoverthesoundofmyhammeringheart.
âLetmehelp.â
BeforetheScarletGuard,Iusedtothinkalliesoperatedonexactlythesamepage.Machinesintandem,workingtowardthesamegoal.Hownaiveofme.CalandIareseeminglyonthesameside,butweabsolutelydonotwantthesamething.
Heâsopenwithhisplan.Detailingitfully.Enoughformetorealizehowheintendstousemyrage,usemybrother,tofulfillhisownends.Distracttheguards, get into the core tower, use your silence as a shield, andmake theSilvershandovertheirhostagesinexchangeforfreedom.Julianwillopenthegates;Iâllescortthemmyself.Nobloodshed.Nomoresiege.Corviumwillbeentirelyours.
A good plan. Except the Silver garrisonwill go free, released to rejoinMavenâsarmy.
Igrewupinaslum,butIâmnotstupid.AndIâmcertainlynotsomemoon-eyedgirlabouttoswoonoverCalâsangledjawandcrookedsmileeither.Hischarmhasitslimits.HeâsusedtobewitchingBarrow,notme.
Ifonlytheprincehadabitmoreedge.Calistoosoftheartedforhisowngood.HewonâtleavetheSilversoldierstotheColonelâsnonexistentmercy,eveniftheonlyalternativeislettingthemgojusttofightusagain.
âHowlongdoyouneed?âIask.Lyingtohisfaceisnâtdifficult.Notwhen
Iknowheâstryingtotrickmetoo.
Hegrins.He thinksheâswonmeover.Perfect. âA fewhours togetmyducksinarow.Julian,Saraââ
âFine. Iâll be at the outer barracks when youâre ready.â I turn away,forcinganoh-so-thoughtfulstareintothedistance.Thewindpicksup,stirringmybraids.Itfeelswarmer,notbecauseofCal,butfromthesun.Springwillbehereeventually.âNeedtoclearmyhead.â
Theprincenodsinunderstanding.Heclapsafieryhandonmyshoulder,givingitasqueeze.Inreply,Iforceasmilethatfeelsmorelikeagrimace.AssoonasIturnmyback,Iletitdrop.Hestaysbehind,hiseyesburningholesintomybackuntilthegentlecurveoftheringwallobstructsmefromview.Despite the rising temperature,ashiver tremblesdownmyspine. Icanât letCaldothis.ButIâmnotgoingto letMorreyspendonemoresecondin thattower.
Upahead,Farleymarchesinmydirection,movingasfastasherbodywillallow.Herfacedarkenswhenshespotsme,herbrowfurrowingsointenselyherentirefaceturnsbeetred.Itmakesthepearlywhitescaratthesideofhermouthstandoutworsethanusual.Allinall,anintimidatingsight.
âCole,â she snaps, her voice as stern as her fatherâs. âIwas afraid youwereabouttogoanddosomethingreallystupid.â
âNotme,âIreply,droppingtoamutter.Shecocksherhead,andImotionforhertofollow.
Onceweâresafelyinsideastoreroom,ItellhereverythingasfastasIcan.She huffs through it all, as if Calâs plan is just an annoyance and notcompletelydangeroustousall.
âHeâsputtingtheentirecityatrisk,âIfinish,exasperated.âAndifhegoesthroughwithitââ
âIknow.ButItoldyoubefore:MontfortandCommandwantCalwithus,at almost any cost.Heâs all but bulletproof.Anyone elsewouldbe shot forinsurrection.âFarleyscratchesbothhandsalongherscalp,pullingatstraybitsofherblondhair.âIdonâtwanttodothat,butasoldierwhohasnoincentivetotakeordersandharborshisownagendaisnotsomeoneIwantwatchingmyback.â
âCommand.â I hate the word, and whoever the hell it stands for.âBeginningtothinktheymaynothaveourbestinterestsatheart.â
Farleydoesnâtdisagree.âItâshard,puttingallourfaithinthem.Buttheyseewhatwe donât,whatwe canât.And nowâŠâShe heaves a breath.Hereyeslockonthefloorwithlaserfocus.âIhearMontfortisabouttogetalotmoreinvolved.â
âWhatdoesthatmean?â
âIâmnotentirelysure.â
Iscoff.âDonâthavethefullpicture?Iâmshocked.â
The glare she aims at me could cut through bone. âThe system isnâtperfect,butitprotectsus.Ifyouâregoingtobesullen,Iâmnotgoingtohelp.â
âOh,nowyouhaveideas?â
Shegrinsdarkly.
âAfew.â
Harrickhasnâtlosthistendencytotwitch.
He bobs his head up and down as Farley hisses our plan, lips movingquickly.Shewonâtbegoingintothetowerwithus,butsheâsgoingtomakesurewecanactuallygetin.
Harrickseemswary.Heisnâtawarrior.HedidnâtcometoCorrosandhedidnâtparticipateintheCorviumraideither,eventhoughhisillusionswouldhave helped immensely. He arrived with the rest of us, trailing behind thepregnantcaptain.SomethinghappenedtohimbackwhenwestillhadMare,on a newblood recruitment gonewrong. Since then, heâs stayed out of thefray,onthedefenseinsteadof inthethickofbattle.Ienvyhim.Hedoesnâtknowwhatitfeelsliketokillsomeone.
âHowmany hostages?â he asks, voice quivering like his fingers.A redflushbloomsinhischeeks,spreadingbeneathwinter-paledskin.
âAtleast twenty,âIanswerasquicklyasIcan.âWethinkmybrotherisoneofthem.â
âWithatleastfiftySilversonguard,âFarleyadds.Shedoesnâtglossoverthedanger.Shewonâttrickhimintodoingthis.
âOh,âhemumbles.âOhdear.â
Farleynods.âItâsuptoyou,ofcourse.Wecanfindotherways.â
âButnonewithlesschanceofbloodshed.â
âThatâs right.Your illusionsââ I press on, but he holds up a trembling
hand.Iwonderifhisabilityshakeslikehedoes.
Hismouthopens,butnowordscomeout.Iwaitontenterhooks,imploringhimwitheverynerveinmybody.Hehastoseehowimportantthisis.Hehasto.
âFine.â
I have to restrainmyself from celebrating. This is a good step, but notvictory,andIcanâtlosesightofthatuntilMorreyissafe.âThankyou.âIclasphishands,lettingthemshakeinmine.âThankyousomuch.â
Heblinks rapidly, brown eyesmeetingmine. âDonât thankmeuntil itâsover.â
âIsnât that the truth?âFarleymutters.She triesnot to lookgrim, foroursakes.Herplanishasty,butCalisforcingourhand.âAllright,followme,âshesays.âThisisgoingtobequick,quiet,andwithalittleluckclean.â
WefollowinherwakeasshedodgessoldiersoftheScarletGuardaswellastheRedsdefectingtoourside.Manytouchtheirbrowsindeferencetoher.Sheâsawell-knownfigureintheorganization,andweârebankingonthelevelof respect she commands. I pull atmybraids aswego, tightening themasbestIcan.Thetugisagoodpain.Itkeepsmesharp.Anditgivesmyhandssomethingtodo.OrelseImighttwitchasbadlyasHarrick.
With Farley leading theway, no one stops us at the ring gates, andwemarch to thecenterofCorvium,where thecore tower looms.Blackgranitethrusts intothesky,dottedwithwindowsandbalconies.Allareneatlyshut,while soldiers ring the base in the dozens, keeping watch over the twofortified entrances to the tower.Colonelâs orders, I bet.Hewasted no timedoublingtheguardafterherealizedIwantinâandCalwantstheSilversout.The captain doesnât lead us up to the tower, but past it, into one of thestructuresbuiltupagainstthecentralringwall.Liketherestofthecity,itisgold,iron,andblackstone,shadowedeveninbroaddaylight.
Myheartbeatthuds,fasterwitheverystepforwardintothegloomofoneof themany prisons dotting Corvium.As planned, Farley leads us down astaircase,andwedescendtothecelllevel.Myskincrawlsatthesightofbars,thestonewallswaxyinthedimlightoftoofewbulbs.Atleastthecellsareempty.CalâsdefectingSilversareoverthePrayerGate,confinedtotheroomdirectlyabovearchesofSilentStone,wheretheirabilitiesarenonexistent.
âIâlldistractthelower-levelguardswhileHarrickslipsyoubothpast,âshesaysquietly,tryingnottolethervoiceecho.Farleysmoothlypassesmetwo
keys.âIronfirst.âSheindicatestherough,blackmetalkeyasbigasmyfist,thentheglinting,daintyonewithsharpteeth.âSilversecond.â
Ituckthemintoseparatepockets,easilywithinreach.âGotit.â
âI canâtmuffle soundaswell as sightyet, sowehave tobe asquiet aspossible,âHarrickmurmurs.Henudgestheinsideofmyarmandmatcheshissteps tomine.âStayclose.Letmekeep the illusionassmallasIcanforaslongaspossible.â
Inod,understanding.Harrickneedstosavehisstrengthforthehostages.
The cells wind deeper and deeper into the ground beneath Corvium. Itgetsdamperandcolderbytheminute,untilmybreathfogs.Whenlightblazesaroundacorner,Ifeelnocomfort.ThisisasfarasFarleygoes.
Shegesturessilently,wavingusbothback.ItuckclosertoHarrick.Thisisit.Excitementandfearragethroughme.Iâmcoming,Morrey.
Mybrother is close, surrounded by peoplewhowould kill him. I donâthavetimetocareiftheykillme.
Something wobbles before my vision, dropping like a curtain. Theillusion. Harrick braces me against his chest and we walk together, ourfootsteps matching. We can see everything well enough, but when Farleylooks back to check, her eyes searchwildly, sweeping back and forth. Shecanâtseeus.AndneithercantheGuardsmenaroundthecorner.
âEverything okay down here?â she crows, stomping on the stonemuchlouder than necessary.Harrick and I follow at a safe distance and turn thepassagetoseesixwell-armedsoldierswithredscarvesandtacticalgear.Theystandacrossthenarrowhall,shouldertoshoulder,firmlyset.
They jump to attention in Farleyâs presence. One, ameatymanwith aneckbiggerthanmythigh,addressesheronbehalfoftherest.âYes,Captain.No sign of movement. If the Silvers intend to make an escape attempt, itwonâtbethroughthetunnels.Eventheyarenâtthatfoolish.â
Farleyclenchesherjaw.âGood.Keepyoureyesâoh!â
Wincing,shedoublesover,bracingahandononeof themidnight-blackwalls.Theotherclutchesherbelly.Herfacefurrowsinpain.
The Guardsmen are quick to aid her, three jumping to her side in aninstant.Theyleaveagapintheirranksmuchbiggerthantheyneed.HarrickandImovequickly,slidingalongtheoppositewall toreachthesealeddoordead-endingthepassage.Farleywatchesthedoorasshekneels,stillfakinga
cramp or something worse. The illusion around me ripples a bit more,indicatingHarrickâs concentration. Heâs not just hiding us now, but a dooryawningopenbehindahalf-dozensoldiersassignedtoprotectit.
FarleyyelpsasIshovetheironkeyintothelock,twistingthemechanism.She keeps it up, her hisses of discomfort and cries of pain alternating insteadyrhythmtodistractfromanysqueakyhinges.Luckily,thedooriswelloiled.Whenitswingsopen,noonecansee,andnoonehears.
I shut it slowly, preventing the slam of iron on granite. The lightdisappearsinchbyinch,untilweareleftinalmostpitch-blackdarkness.NotevenFarleyorhersoldiersâfussingfollows,sufficientlymuffledbythecloseddoor.
âLetâsgo,âItellhim,linkingmyarmtohistightly.
One,two,three,fourâŠIcountmystepsinthedarkness,onehandtrailingonthefreezingcoldwall.
Adrenalinekicksinwhenwereachtheseconddoor,nowdirectlybelowthe core tower. I didnât have enough time to memorize its structure, but Iknowthebasics.Enoughtogettothehostagesandwalkthemrightoutintothesafetyofthecentralward.Withouthostages,theSilverswillhavenothingtobargainwith.Theyâllhavetosubmit.
Feelingalong thedoor, I pokearound for thekeyhole. Itâs small, and ittakesagoodamountofscrapingtogetthekeyinthelockproperly.âHerewego,âImurmur.AwarningtoHarrick,andtomyself.
AsIeaseopenthewayintothetower,IrealizethiscouldbethelastthingI ever do. Even with my ability and Harrickâs, weâre no match for fiftySilvers.Wedieifthisgoeswrong.Andthehostages,alreadysubjectedtosomanyhorrors,willprobablydietoo.
Iwonâtletthathappen.Icanât.
The adjoining chamber is just as dark as the tunnel, but warmer. Thetower is tightly sealed against the elements, just like Farley said. Harrickcrowdsinbehindmeandweshutthedoortogether.Hishandbrushesmine.Itisnâttwitchingnow.Good.
There should be some stairs⊠yes. I nudgemy toes against a bottomstep. Keeping my grip on Harrickâs wrist, I lead us up, toward dim butsteadilygrowinglight.Twoflightsup,justlikethetwoflightsdownwetookintheprisoncells.
Murmursreverberateoffthewalls,deepenoughtohearbuttoomuffledtodecipher.Harriedvoices,whisperedarguments.Iblinkrapidlyasthedarknessliftsandwereachthegroundfloorofthetower,ourheadspokingupfromthesteps.Warmlightpoolsaroundus,illuminatingthecircularstairwelltwistingup the tall, central chamber. The spine of the tower. Doors branch off atseverallandings,eachoneboltedshut.Myheartbeatsathunderousrhythm,soloudIthinktheSilversmighthearit.
Twoofthempatrolthestairwell,tenseandreadyforanassault.ButweârenotsoldiersandwearenâtScarletGuard.Theirfiguresrippleslightly,likethesurfaceofdisturbedwater.Harrickâsillusionsareback,shieldingusbothfromunfriendlyeyes.
Wemoveasone,followingthevoices.Icanbarelystandtobreatheasweascend the steps,making for the central chamber about three stories up. InFarleyâs schematics, it spread the width of the tower, occupying an entirefloor.Thatâswhere thehostageswillbe,and thebulkof theSilversholdingoutforMavenâsrescueorCalâsmercy.
TheSilverpatrolmenareheavilymuscled.Strongarms.Bothhavestone-grayfacesandarmsthesizeoftreetrunks.Theycanâtsnapmeintwo,notifIusemy silence.Butmyabilityhasnoeffectonguns, andbothhavemany.Double pistols, alongwith rifles slung across their shoulders. The tower iswellstockedforasiege,andIguessthatmeanstheyhavemorethanenoughammunitiontoholdout.
One strongarm descends the stairs as we approach, his footstepslumbering.IthankwhateveridiotSilverputhimonwatch.Hisabilityisbruteforce,nothingsensory.Buthewouldcertainlyfeelusifwebumpedintohim.
Weslipbyhimslowly,ourbacksedgedagainst theexterior towerwall.Hepasseswithoutsomuchasawhiffofuncertainty,hisfocuselsewhere.
The other strongarm ismore difficult to pass. He leans against a door,long legs angled out in front of him. They almost block the steps entirely,forcingHarrickandmetothefarsideofthestairs.Iâmgratefulformyheight.Itallowsmetostepoverhimwithoutincident.Harrickisnotsograceful.Histwitchingreturnstenfoldashestraddlesthesteps,tryingnottomakeasound.
Grittingmyteeth,Iletsilencepoolbeneathmyskin.IwonderifIcankillboththesemenbeforetheyraisethealarm.Ialreadyfeelsickatthethought.
But then Harrick lurches forward, his foot catching the next step. Itdoesnâtmakemuchnoise, but enough to stir theSilver.He looks back andforth,andIfreeze,grippingHarrickâsoutstretchedwrist.Terrorclawsatmy
throat,beggingtoscreamout.
Whenheturnshisback,lookingdownathiscomrade,InudgeHarrick.
âLykos,youhearsomething?âthestrongarmcallsdown.
âNotathing,âtheotherresponds.
Eachword coversour darting steps, allowingus to reach the topof thestairs and the door cracked ajar. I breathe the quietest sigh of reliefimaginable.Myhandsareshakingtoo.
Insidetheroom,voicesbicker.âWehavetosurrender,âsomeonesays.
Barksofoppositionsoundinresponse,drowningoutourentry.Weslipinlike mice and find ourselves in a room crawling with hungry cats. Silverofficers congregate along the walls, most of them wounded. The smell ofblood isoverpowering.Moansofpainpermeate themanyargumentsarcingacrossthechamber.Officersshouteachotherdown,theirfacespalewithfear,grief,andagony.Severalofthewoundedseemtobedying.Igagatthesightand stench of men and women in all states of injury. No healers here, Irealize.TheseSilverwoundswonâtdisappearwiththewaveofahand.
Evenso,Iâmnotmadeoficeorstone.Theoneswiththeworstinjuriesarelinedupalong thecurvedexteriorwall, justa fewyards frommyfeet.Theclosestoneisawoman,herfacescrapedwithcuts.Silverbloodpoolsbeneathher hands as she tries in vain to keep her guts inside her body.Hermouthflapsopenandclosed,adyingfishgaspingforair.Herpain is toodeepforramblingsorscreams.Iswallowhard.Astrangethoughtcomestome:IcouldputheroutofhermiseryifIwanted.Icouldextendahandofsilenceandhelpherslipawayinpeace.
Justtheideaisenoughtomakemegag,andIhavetoturnaway.
âSurrenderisnotanoption.TheScarletGuardwillkillus,orworseâŠ?â
âWorse?âsputtersoneoftheofficerslyingonthefloor,hisbodybruisedandbandaged.âLookaround,Chyron!â
Iglancearound,daringtohope.Iftheykeepshoutingatoneanother,thiswill be somuch easier.On the far side of the room, I spot them.Huddledtogether,theirfleshpinkandbrown,theirbloodRed,arenolessthantwentyfifteen-year-olds. Only fear keeps me rooted in place, separated fromeverythingIwantbyastretchofdeadly,angrykillingmachines.
Morrey.Secondsaway.Inchesaway.
Wecrossthechamberascarefullyasweclimbedthesteps,andtwiceas
slowly.TheSilverswithlesserwoundsroveabout,eithertendingtothemoreseriouslyinjuredorwalkingofftheirnerves.IâveneverseenSilverslikethis.Offguard,upclose.Sohuman.Anolderfemaleofficerwithariotofbadgesholds the hand of a young man, maybe eighteen. His face is bone white,drainedofblood,andheblinkscalmlyattheceiling,waitingtodie.Thebodynext to him is already there. I hold back a gasp, forcingmyself to breatheevenlyandquietly.Evenwithsomanydistractions,Iâmnottakingachance.
âTellmymotherIloveher,âoneofthedyingmurmurs.
Another almost corpse calls for a man who isnât here, yelping out hisname.
Deathloomslikeacloud.Itshadowsmetoo.Icoulddiehere,sameastherest.IfHarricktires,ifIstepsomewhereIshouldnât.Itrytoignoreeverythingbutmyowntwofeetandthegoalinfrontofme.ButthefartherIgointothechamber, the harder that is.The floor swimsbeforemy eyes, andnot fromHarrickâsillusion.AmIâŠamIcrying?Forthem?
Angry, I wipe the tears away before they can fall and leave tracks. AsmuchasIknowIhatethesepeople,Icanâtfinditinmetohaterightnow.AlltherageIfeltanhouragoisgone,replacedbystrangepity.
Thehostagesarenowcloseenoughformetotouch,andonesilhouetteisasfamiliarasmyownface.Curlyblackhair,midnightskin,ganglylimbs,bighandswithcrookedfingers.Thewidest,brightestsmileIâveeverseen,thoughthatisfar,farawayrightnow.IfIcould,IwouldtackleMorreyandneverlethimgo. Instead, Icreepupbehindandslowly,surelycrouchuntil Iâmrightnexttohisear.Ihopebeyondhopehedoesnâtstartle.
âMorrey,itâsCameron.â
Hisbodyjolts,buthedoesnâtmakeasound.
âIâmwithanewblood;hecanmakeusinvisible.Iâmgoingtogetyououtofhere,butyouhavetodoexactlyasIsay.â
Heturnshishead,justso,hiseyeswideandafraid.Hehasourmotherâseyes,kohlblackwithheavy lashes. I resist theurge tohughim.Slowly,heshakeshisheadbackandforth.
âYes. I can do it,â I breathe. âTell the others what I just told you. Bediscreet.DonâtlettheSilverssee.Doit,Morrey.â
Afteranotherlongmomentheclencheshisteethandconcedes.
Itdoesnâttakelongforknowledgeofourpresencetosweepthroughthem.
Noonequestionsit.Theydonâthavetheluxuryofdoingthat,nothere,inthebellyofthebeast.
âWhatyouâreabouttoseeisnâtreal.â
IgesturetoHarrick,whonods.Heâsready.Slowly,wemovetoourknees,crouching down to blend in with them. When his illusion on us lifts, theSilverswonâtnoticeusatfirst.Distracted.Hopefully.
Mymessagetravelsquickly.Thehostagestense.Eventhoughtheyârethesameageasme, they seemolder,wornby themonths training to fightandthenspentinatrench.EvenMorrey,thoughhelooksbetterfedthanheeverwas at home. Still invisible to his eye, I reach out and tentatively take hishand.Hisfingerscloseonmine,holdingtight.Andtheillusionrenderingusinvisibledrops.Twomorebodiesjointhecircleofhostages.Theothersblinkatus,strugglingtomasktheirsurprise.
âHerewego,âHarrickmurmurs.
Behindus,theSilverscontinuebickeringoverthedeadanddying.Theydonâtspareathoughtforthehostages.
Harricknarrowshiseyes,focusingonthecurvingtowerwalltoourright.He breathes heavily, air whistling through his nose and out his mouth.Gathering his strength. I bracemyself for the blow, even though I know itdoesnâtexist.
Suddenlythewallexplodesinwardinabloomoffireandstone,exposingthe tower to the sky.TheSilvers shudder, scamperingback fromwhat theythink isanattack.Airjets screampast, swooping through the falseclouds. Iblink,notbelievingmyeyes.Ishouldnâtbelievemyeyes.Thisisnâtreal.Butitlooksamazingly,impossiblyreal.
NotthatIhavetimetogape.
HarrickandIjumptoourfeet,herdingtheotherswithus.Weboltthroughthefire,flameslickingcloseenoughtoburnusthrough.IflincheventhoughIknowitisnâtthere.Thefireisdistractionenough,startlingtheSilverssothatwecanstampedethroughthedoorandontothestairs.
Ipushon, leading thepack,whileHarrickkeeps the rear.Hewaveshisarms like a dancer, weaving illusions out of thin air. Fire, smoke, anotherroundofmissiles.AllofitkeepstheSilversfrompursuingus,coweringfromhis spooling images.Silenceblooms fromme, a sphereof deadlypower tofell the twoSilver lookouts.Morreyclipsmyheels,almostmakingme trip,buthecatchesmyarm,keepingmefromgoingovertherail.
âStop!â The first strongarm charges at me, head lowered like a bull. Ipulsesilenceintohisbody,rammingmyabilitydownhisthroat.Hestumbles,feeling the fullweight ofmy power. I feel it too, death rolling through hisflesh. I have tokill him.Andquickly.The forceofmyneed crushesbloodfromhismouthandeyesaspiecesofhisbodydieoff,organsoneafter theother.IsmotherthelifefromhimfasterthanIâveeverkilledanyonebefore.
The other strongarm dies even faster. When I hit him with anotherexhaustingpummelofsilence,hetripssidewaysandfallsheadfirst.Hisskullcracksopenonthestonefloor,spillingbloodandbrainmatter.Asobchokesinmychest,andIhavenotimetoquestionmysuddendisgustwithmyself.ForMorrey.ForMorrey.
My brother looks as agonized as I feel, his eyes glued to the deadstrongarmbleedingalloverthefloor.Itellmyselfheâsjustshocked,andnotterrifiedofme.
âGo!â I bellow, voice chokedwith shame.Thankfully he does as I say,sprintingtothelowerlevelwiththerest.
Eventhoughthegroundentranceisblockedup,thehostagesmakequickwork of it, tearing down the Silver fortifications until the double doors arelaidbare,asinglelockstandingbetweenallofusandfreedom.
I vault over the strongarmâs crushed skull, tossing the small silver key.Morreycatches it.Hisconscriptionandmyimprisonmenthavenotstampedoutourbondas twins.Sunlight streams throughashehauls thedoorsopenandlungesintothefreshair,theotherhostagessprintingwithhim.
Harrickcomesflyingdownthestairs,falsefirespewinginhiswake.Hewavesmeon,tellingmetogo,butIstayrooted.Iâmnotleavingwithouttheillusionary.
We stumble out together, clutching each other tightly to face down asquarefullofperplexedguardsarmedtotheteeth.TheyallowusthroughatFarleyâs orders. She shouts nearby, directing them to focus on the towerentrance,incasetheSilversattempttomakeastand.
Idonâthearherwords.IjustkeepwalkinguntilIhavemybrotherinmyarms.Hisheartbeatsrapidlyinhischest.Irevelinthesound.Heâshere.Heâsalive.
Notlikethestrongarms.
Istillfeelit,whatIdidtothem.
WhatIdidtoeverysinglepersonIeverkilled.
Thememoriesmakemedizzywithshame.AllforMorrey,alltosurvive.Butnomore.
Idonâthavetobeamurdereralongsideeverythingelse.
Heclutchesatme,eyesrollinginterror.âTheScarletGuard,âhehisses,holdingmeclose.âCam,wehavetorun.â
âYouâresafe;youârewithusnow.Theycanâthurtyou,Morrey!â
But instead of calming down, his fear triples. Morreyâs grip on metightensashisheadwhipsbackand forth, taking stockofFarleyâs soldiers.âDotheyknowwhatyouare?Cam,dotheyknow?â
Shamebleedsintoconfusion.Ipushbackfromhimalittle,togetabetterlookathisface.Hebreathesheavily.âWhatIam?â
âTheyâllkillyouforit.TheScarletGuardwillkillyouforwhatyouare.â
Eachwordhitsmelikeahammer.AndthenIrealizemybrotherisnâttheonlyonestillafraid.Therestofhisunit,theotherteenagers,clustertogetherfor safety, every one of them keeping clear of the Guard soldiers. Farleymeetsmyeyefromafewfeetaway,justaspuzzledasIam.
ThenIseeherfrommybrotherâspointofview.Seethemallforwhatheâsbeentoldtosee.
Terrorists.Murderers.Thereasontheywereconscriptedinthefirstplace.
ItrytopullMorreyintoahug,trytowhisperanexplanation.
Hejustgoescoldinmyarms.âYouâreoneofthem,âhespits,lookingatme with so much anger and accusation my knees buckle. âYouâre ScarletGuard.â
Mysoulfillswithdread.
MaventookMareâsbrother.
Didhetakeminetoo?
SIXTEENMare
I canât seeCorvium through the low cloud cover. I stare anyway,my eyesgluedontheeasternhorizonstretchingoutbehindus.TheScarletGuardtookthecity.Theycontrolitnow.Wehadtoskirtaround,givingthehostilecityawideberth.Mavenisdoinghisbesttokeepitquiet;evenhecanâthidesuchmassive defeat. Iwonder how the newswill land across the kingdom.WillReds celebrate? Will Silvers retaliate? I remember the riots that followedother attacks by the Scarlet Guard. Of course there will be repercussions.Corvium is an act ofwar.Finally, theScarletGuardhasplanted a flag thatcannotsimplybetorndown.
MyfriendsaresocloseIfeelasifIcouldruntothem.Tearthemanaclesoff,killtheArvenguards,jumpfromthetransportanddisappearintothegraygloom,sprintingthroughthebarewinterforest.Inthedaydream,theywaitformeoutsidethewallsofabrokenfortress.TheColonel,hiseyecrimson,hisweatheredfaceandthegunonhishipacomfortlikenothingelse.Farleywithhim,boldandtallandresoluteasIremember.Cameron,hersilenceashieldrather than aprison.Kilorn, familiar asmyown twohands.Cal, angryandbrokenasIam, theembersofhisrageready toburnall thoughtsofMavenfrommymind. I imagine leaping into their arms, begging them to takemeaway, takeme anywhere. Takeme tomy family, takeme home.Makemeforget.
No,not forget. Itwouldbea sin to forgetmy imprisonment.Awaste. IknowMavenasnooneelsedoes.Iknowtheholesinhisbrain,thepieceshecannevermakefit.AndIâveseenhiscourtsplinterfirsthand.IfIcanescape,if I canbe rescued, I candosomegoodstill. I canmakemy foolâsbargainworththeterriblecostâandIcanstarttorightsomanywrongs.
Eventhoughthetransportwindowsaretightlysealed,Ismellsmoke.Ash.Gunpowder.Themetallic,sourbiteofacenturyofblood.TheChokenears,closerwitheverypassingsecondasMavenâsconvoyspeedswest.Ihopemynightmaresofthisplacewereworsethanthereality.
KittenandCloverarestillatmysides, theirhandsglovedandflatupontheirknees.Readytograbme,readytoholdmedown.Theotherguards,Trio
and Egg, perch above, on the transport skeleton, harnessed to the movingvehicle. A precaution, now that weâre so close to the war zone. Not tomention a few miles from a city occupied by revolution. All four remainvigilantasever.Bothtokeepmeimprisonedâandtokeepmesafe.
Outside,theforestliningthelastmilesoftheIronRoadthinsintonothing.Naked branches fall away to reveal hard earth barelyworthy of snow.TheChoke is an ugly place.Gray dirt, gray skies, blending so perfectly I donâtknowwherethelandendsandskybegins.Ialmostexpecttohearexplosionsinthedistance.Dadsaidyoucouldalwayshearthebombs,evenfrommilesaway.Isupposethatisnâtthecaseanymore,notifMavenâsgambitsucceeds.Iâm ending awar thatmillions died for. Just to keep killing under anothername.
The convoy presses on toward the forward camps, a collection ofbuildingsthatremindmeoftheScarletGuardbaseonTuck.Theyfadeintothedistance ineitherdirection.Barracks,mostly.Coffins for the living.Mybrotherslivedinthoseonce.Myfathertoo.Itmightbemyturntokeepupthetradition.
Asinthecitiesalongthecoronationtour,peopleturnouttowatchKingMavenandhis retinue.Soldiers in red, inblack, incloudedgray.They linethemainavenuebisectingtheChokecampwithmilitaryprecision,eachonedipping their heads in respect. I donât bother trying to count how manyhundreds there are. Itâs too depressing. Instead, I claspmy hands together,tightenoughtogivemeanotherpaintodwellon.TheinjuredSilverofficerinRocastasaidCorviumwasamassacre.Donât,Itellmyself.Donâtgothere.Ofcoursemyminddoesanyway.Itâsimpossibletoavoidthehorrorsyoureallydonât want to think about.Massacre. Both sides. Red and Silver, ScarletGuard and Mavenâs army. Cal survived, that much I know from Mavenâsdemeanor. But Farley, Kilorn, Cameron, my brothers, the rest? So manynames and faces who probably assaulted the walls of Corvium. Whathappenedtothem?
Ipressmy fingers tomy eyes, trying to keep the tears back.The effortexhaustsme,butIrefusetocryinfrontofKittenandClover.
Tomysurprise,theconvoydoesnotstopinthecenteroftheChokecamp,eventhoughthereâsasquarethatlooksperfectlysuitedtoanotherofMavenâshoneyed speeches.A few of the transports, each carrying scions of severalHighHouses,peeloff,butwespeedthrough,pressingon,deeperanddeeper.Eventhoughtheytrytohideit,KittenandClovergrowmoreonedge,theireyesdartingbetweenthewindowsandeachother.Theydonâtlikethis.Good.
Letthemsquirm.
BoldasIfeel,ashadowofdreadfallsovermetoo.IsMavenoutofhismind?Where is he taking usâall of us? Certainly hewould not drive thecourt into a trench or a minefield or worse. The transports pick up speed,rolling faster and faster over earth packed hard into a roadway. In thedistance, artillery cannons andheavyguns stand in hulkingwrecks of iron,twistedshadowslikeblackskeletons.Withinamile,wecrossthefirsttrenchlines,ourvehicles snarlingoverhastilybuiltbridges.More trenches follow.For reserves, support, communication. Weaving like the passages of theNotch, burrowing into frozen mud. I lose count after a dozen. Either thetrenches are abandoned or the soldiers arewell hidden. I canât see a singlescrapofreduniform.
Thiscouldbeatrap,forallweknow.Theschemingofanoldkingmeanttoensnareanddefeatayoungboy.Partofmewantsthattobetrue.IfIcanâtkillMaven,maybethekingoftheLakelandswilldoitforme.HouseCygnet,nymphs.Ruling forhundredsofyears.Thatâs asmuchas I knowabout theenemymonarch.Hiskingdomislikeours,dividedbyblood,ruledbynobleSilverhouses.AndafflictedbytheScarletGuard,apparently.LikeMaven,hemust be bent on maintaining power at all costs, through anymeans. Evencollusionwithanoldenemy.
Intheeast, thecloudsbreak,andafewbeamsofsunlight illuminatetheharsh landaroundus.No treesas faras theeyecansee.Wecrossover thefrontline trenchandIgaspat thesight.Redsoldierscrowd together in longlines, six bodies deep, their uniforms colored in varying shades of rust andcrimson.Theypoollikebloodinawound.Handsonladders, theyshiverinthecold.ReadytorushoutoftheirtrenchandintothedeadlykillzoneoftheChoke should their king command it. I spot Silver officers among them,denotedbytheirgray-and-blackuniforms.Mavenisyoung,butnotstupid.IfthisisaLakelandertrick,heâsreadytofighthiswayout.IassumethekingoftheLakelandshasanotherarmywaiting,inhisowntrenchesontheotherside.MoreRedsoldierstodiscard.
Asthetiresofourtransporthittheotherside,Clovertightensnexttome.She keeps her electric-green eyes forward, trying to stay calm.A sheen ofsweatgleamsonherforehead,betrayingherfear.
ThetruewastelandoftheChokeispockedwithcratersfromtwoarmiesâworthofartillery fire.Someof theholesmustbedecadesold.Barbedwiretangles in the frozen mud. Up ahead, on the lead transport, a telky and amagnetronworkintandem.Theysweeptheirarmsbackandforth,wrenching
anydebrisfromthepathoftheconvoy.Bitsofcoiledirongospinningoffinevery direction. And, I assume, bones. Reds have been dying here forgenerations.Thedirtislitteredwiththeirdust.
Inmynightmares,thisplacestretchesonforever,ineverydirection.Butinstead of continuing forward into oblivion, the convoy slows a littlemorethan a halfmile beyond the frontline trenches.As our transports circle andweave,arrangingthemselvesinahalf-moonarc,Ialmosteruptwithnervouslaughter. Of all things, in all placesâweâre stopping at a pavilion. Thecontrast is jarring. Itâs brand-new, with white columns and silky curtainsswayinginthepoisonedwind.Constructedforonepurposeandonepurposealone. A summit, a meeting, like the one so long ago. When two kingsdecidedtobeginacenturyofwar.
A Sentinel wrenches open my transport door, beckoning for us to stepdown.CloverhesitatesahalfsecondandKittenclearsherthroat,urgingheron. Imove between them, escorted down onto the obliterated earth. Rocksand dirt make the ground uneven under my feet. I pray nothing splintersbeneathme.Askull,arib,afemur,oraspine.IdonâtneedmoreproofthatIâmwalkingthroughanendlessgraveyard.
Clover is not the only one afraid. Even the Sentinels move slowly, onedge, theirmasked faces sweeping back and forth. For once, they think oftheirownsafetyaswell asMavenâs.And the restof the remainingcourtâEvangeline,Ptolemus,Samsonâtheyidlebytheirtransports.Theireyesdart;theirnoseswrinkle.Theycansmelldeathanddangeraswellas Ican.Onewrongmove,onehintofathreat,andtheyâllbolt.Evangelinehasdiscardedher furs for armor. Steel coats her fromneck towrist and toe. She quicklyfreesherfingersfromherleathergloves,baringherskintothecoldair.Betterforafight.Ifeel theitchtodothesame,notthat itwillhelpmeatall.Themanaclesarestrongasever.
The only one who seems unaffected is Maven. The dying winter suitshim,makinghispaleskinstandoutinawaythatisoddlyelegant.Eventheshadows around his eyes, dark as always, black and bruise-like,make himtragicallybeautiful.Todayhewearsasmuchregaliaashedares.Aboyking,but a king all the same, about to look into the eyes of someone who issupposedlyhisgreatestopponent.Thecrownonhisheadseemsnaturalnow,refittedtositlowacrosshisbrow.Itspitsbronzeandironflamesthroughhisglossyblackhair.EveninthegraylightoftheChoke,hismedalsandbadgesgleam,silverandrubyandonyx.Acape,patternedwithbrocaderedasflame,completes the ensemble and the image of a fiery king. But the Choke
consumesusall.Dirtspeckleshispolishedblackbootsashewalksforward,fightingthedeepinstincttofearthisplace.Impatient,hecastsonelookoverhis shoulder, eyeing the dozens he dragged here. His fire-blue eyes arewarningenough.Wemustgowithhim.Iamnotafraidofdeath,andsoIamthefirsttofollowhimintowhatcouldbeagrave.
ThekingoftheLakelandsisalreadywaiting.
Hesprawlsinasimplechair,asmallmanagainstthemassiveflaghungbehindhim.Itiscobalt,workedwithafour-petaledflowerinsilverandwhite.Hismilky-bluemetal transports splay out on the other side of the pavilion,arrangedinmirrorimagetoourown.Icountmorethanadozenataglance,all of them crawlingwith the Lakelander version of Sentinel guards.MoreflanktheLakelandkingandhisentourage.Theydonâtwearmasksorrobes,buttacticalarmorinflashingplatesofdeepsapphire.Theystand,silent,stoic,withfaceslikecarvedstone.Eachoneawarriortrainedfrombirthorclosetoit. I know none of their abilities, nor those of the kingâs companions. Thecourt of theLakelands is not something I studied inmy lessonswithLadyBlonoscenturiesago.
Asweapproach,thekingcomesintobetterfocus.Istareathim,tryingtoseethemanbeneaththecrownofwhitegold,topaz,turquoise,anddarklapislazuli.ForasmuchasMavenfavorsredandblack,thiskingfavorshisblue.Afterall,heisanymph,amanipulatorofwater.Itâsfitting.Iexpecthiseyestobeblueaswellâinstead,theyarestormgray,matchingthehardironofhislong, straighthair. I findmyselfcomparinghim toMavenâs father, theonlyotherking Iâveeverknown.Hestands instarkcontrast.WhereTiberias theSixth was hefty, bearded, his face and body bloated by alcohol, theLakelander king is slight, clean-shaven, and clear-eyed with dark skin. AswithallSilvers,agray-blueundertonecoolshiscomplexion.Whenhestands,he is graceful, his sweeping movements akin to a dancerâs. He wears noarmorordressuniform.Only robesof shimmering silver andcobalt, brightandforebodingashisflag.
âKingMaven of House Calore,â he says, inclining his head just so asMavenstepsontothepavilion.Blacksilkslithersoverwhitemarble.
âKingOrrecofHouseCygnet,âMavenrespondsinkind.Heiscarefultobowlowerthanhisopponent,withasmilefixedfirmlyuponhislips.âIfonlymyfatherwereheretoseethis.â
âYour mother too,â Orrec says. No bite to the words, but Mavenstraightens up quickly, as if suddenly presented with a threat. âMy
condolences.Youarefar tooyoungtoexperiencesomuchloss.âHehasanaccent, his words finding a strange melody. His eyes twitch overMavenâsshoulder,pastme,toSamsonfollowingusinhisMerandusblues.âYouwereinformedofmyâŠrequests?â
âOfcourse.âMavenjutsachinoverhisshoulder.Heglancesatmeforasecond;then,likeOrrecâs,hisgazeslidestoSamson.âCousin,ifyouwouldnotmindwaitinginyourtransport.â
âCousinââSamson sayswith asmuchopposition as he dares. Still, hestops in his tracks, feet planted several yards from the pavilion platform.There isnoargument tomake,nothere.KingOrrecâsguards tighten,handsmoving to their array of weapons. Guns, swords, the very air around us.Anything theymight call upon to keep awhisper fromgetting too close totheirkingandhismind.IfonlythecourtofNortawerethesame.
Finally,Samsonrelents.Hebowslow,armssweepingoutathissides insharp,practicedmovements.âYes,YourMajesty.â
Onlywhen he turns around,walks back to the vehicles, and disappearsfrom sight do the Lakelander guards relax. AndKingOrrec smiles tightly,wavingMavenforwardtofacehim.Likeachildinvitedtobeg.
Instead,Maven turns to the seat set opposite. It isnât Silent Stone, isnâtsafe, but he settles into itwithout a blink of hesitation.He leans back andcrosseshislegs,lettinghiscapedrapeoveronearmwhiletheotherliesfree.Hishanddanglesâwithhisflamemakerbraceletclearlyvisible.
Therestofuscongregatearoundhim,takingseatstomatchthecourtoftheLakelandsnowfacingus.EvangelineandPtolemustakeMavenâsright,asdoestheirfather.Whenhejoinedourconvoy,Idonâtknow.GovernorWelleisheretoo,hisgreenrobessicklyagainstthegrayoftheChoke.Theabsenceof Houses Iral, Laris, and Haven seems glaring to my eye, their ranksreplacedbyotheradvisers.MyfourArvenguardsflankmeasIsit,socloseIcan hear them breathing. I focus instead on the people in front ofme, theLakelanders.Thekingâsclosestadvisers,confidants,diplomats,andgenerals.Peopletobefearedalmostasmuchasthekinghimself.Nointroductionsaremade,butIquicklyrealizewhoismostimportantamongthem.Shesitsatthekingâsright-handside,theplaceEvangelinecurrentlyoccupies.
Avery youngqueen,maybe?No, the family resemblance is too strong.ShehastobetheprincessoftheLakelands,witheyeslikeherfatherâsandherowncrownofflawlessbluegems.Herstraightblackhairgleams,beadedwithpearlandsapphire.AsIstare,shefeelsmyeyesâandshestaresrightback.
Maven speaks first, breaking my observations. âFor the first time in acentury,wefindourselvesinagreement.â
âThat we do.â Orrec nods. His jeweled brow flashes in the weakeningsunlight.âTheScarletGuardandall its ilkmustbeeradicated.Quickly, lesttheirdiseasespreadfurtherthanitalreadyhas.LestRedsinotherregionsbeseducedbytheirfalsepromises.IhearrumorsoftroubleinPiedmont?â
âRumors, yes.â My black-hearted king concedes nothing more than hewants to. âYou know how the princes can be. Always arguing amongthemselves.â
Orrecalmostsmirks.âIndeed.ThePrairielordsarequitethesame.â
âInregardtothetermsââ
âNot so fast,my young friend. I should like to know the state of yourhousebeforeIwalkthroughthedoor.â
EvenfrommyseatIcanfeelMaventighten.âAskwhatyouwish.â
âHouseIral?HouseLaris?HouseHaven?âOrrecâseyessweepdownourline,missingnothing.Hisgazeskirtsoverme,falteringforhalfasecond.âIseenoneofthemhere.â
âSo?â
âSothereportsaretrue.Theyhaverebelledagainsttheirrightfulking.â
âYes.â
âInsupportofanexile.â
âYes.â
âAndwhatofyourarmyofnewbloods?â
âItgrowswitheverypassingday,âMavensays.âAnotherweaponweallmustlearntowield.â
âLikeher.âThekingoftheLakelandstipshisheadinmydirection.âThelightninggirlisamightytrophy.â
Myfistsclenchonmyknees.Ofcourse,heâsright.IâmlittlemorethanatrophyforMaventodragaround,usingmyfaceandmyforcedwordstodrawmoretohisside.Idonâtflush,though.Iâvehadalongtimetogetusedtomyshame.
IfMavenlooksmyway,Idonâtknow.Iwonâtlookathim.
âA trophy, yes, and a symbol too,âMaven says. âThe Scarlet Guard isfleshandblood,notghosts.Fleshandbloodcanbecontrolled,defeated,anddestroyed.â
The king clucks his tongue, as if in pity. Quickly, he stands, his robesswirlingaroundhimlikeatossingriver.Mavenstandstoo,andmeetshiminthecenterofthepavilion.Theysizeeachotherup,onedevouringtheother.Neitherwants tobe thefirst tobreak. I feel theveryairaroundme tighten:hot, then cold, then dry, then clammy. The will of two Silver kings ragesaroundusall.
I donât know what Orrec sees in Maven, but suddenly he relents andextendsonedarkhand.Ringsofstatewinkonallhisfingers.âWell,theyâllbedealt with soon enough. Your rebel Silvers too. Three houses against themightoftwokingdomsisnothingatall.â
Withadipofhishead,Mavenreturnsthegesture.HegripsOrrecâshandinhis.
Dimly,IwonderhowthehellMareBarrowoftheStiltsendeduphere.Afewfeetfromtwokings,watchingonemorepieceofourbloodyhistorylockintoplace.JulianwilllosehismindwhenItellhim.When.BecauseIwillseehimagain.Seethemallagain.
âNowfortheterms,âOrrecpusheson.AndIrealizehehasnotletgoofMavenâsfingers.SodotheSentinels.Theytakeonemenacingstepforwardintandem,theirrobesofflamehidinganynumberofweapons.Ontheothersideoftheplatform,theLakelanderguardsdothesame.Eachsidedaringtheothertotakethestepthatwillendinbloodshed.
Mavendoesnâttrytowrenchaway,orpushcloser.Hemerelystandsfirm,unmoved,unafraid.âThetermsaresound,âhereplies,hisvoiceeven.Icanâtsee his face. âThe Choke divided evenly, the old borders maintained andopened for travel. Youâll have equal use of the Capital River and the ErisCanalââ
âWhileyourbrotherlives,Ineedguarantees.â
âMybrotherisatraitor,anexile.Hewillbedeadsoonenough.â
âThatâs my point, boy. As soon as he is gone, as soon as we tear theScarlet Guard limb from limbâwill you return to the old ways? The oldenemies?Willyou findyourselfonceagaindrowning inRedbodies and inneedofsomewheretothrowthem?âOrrecâsfacedarkens,flushinggrayandpurple.Hiscold,detachedmannerfadesintoanger.âPopulationcontrolisone
matter,butthewar,theendlesspushandpull,itislittlemorethanmadness.IwillnotspillonemoredropofSilverbloodbecauseyoucanâtcommandyourRedrats.â
Maven leans forward, matching Orrecâs intensity. âOur treaty will besignedhere,broadcastacrosseverycity, toeveryman,woman,andchildofmykingdom.Everyonewillknowthiswarhasended.EveryoneinNorta,atleast.IknowyoudonâthavethesamecapabilitiesintheLakelands,oldman.ButItrustyouâlldoyourbesttoinformasmuchofyourbackwaterkingdomaspossible.â
Ashuddergoesthroughusall.FearintheSilvers,butexcitementinme.Destroyeachother,Iwhisperinmyhead.Turneachotherinsideout.Ihaveno doubt a nymph kingwould have little issue drowningMavenwhere hestands.
Orrecbareshisteeth.âYoudonâtknowanythingaboutmycountry.â
âIknowtheScarletGuardbeganinyourhouse,notmine,âMavenspitsback. With his free hand he gestures, telling his Sentinels to back down.Foolish,posturingboy.Ihopeitgetshimkilled.âDonâtactlikeyouâredoingmeafavor.Youneedthisasmuchaswedo.â
âThenIwantyourword,MavenCalore.â
âYouhaveitââ
âYourwordandyourhand.Thestrongestbondyoucanmake.â
Oh.
MyeyesflyfromMaven,lockedinagripwiththekingoftheLakelands,to Evangeline. She sits still, as if frozen, her gaze on themarble floor andnowhereelse. I expecther to standupand scream, to turn thisplace into awreck of shrapnel. But she doesnât move. Even Ptolemus, her lapdog of abrother,staysfirmlyinhisseat.AndtheirfatherinhisSamosblacksbroodsasalways.NochangeinhimthatIcansee.NoindicationthatEvangelineisabouttolosethepositionshefoughtsohardtoobtain.
Acrossthepavilion,theLakelanderprincessseemshewnfromstone.Shedoesnâtevenblink.Sheknewthiswascoming.
Once,whenMavenâs father toldhimhewas tomarryme,hechoked insurprise.Heputonagoodshow,blusteringandarguing.Hepretendednottoknowwhat thatproposalwasabout,what itmeant.Likeme,hehaswornathousandmasks and played amillion different parts. Today he performs as
king,andkingsareneversurprised,nevercaughtoffguard.Ifheisshocked,hedoesnâtshowit.Ihearnothingbutsteelinhisvoice.
âItwouldbeanhonortocallyoufather,âhesays.
Finally,OrrecletsgoofMavenâshand.âAndanhonortocallyouson.â
Bothcouldnotbemorefalse.
Tomyright,someoneâschairscrapesagainstmarble.Followedquicklybytwo more. In a flurry of metal and black, House Samos hurries from thepavilion. Evangeline leads her brother and father, never looking back, herhands open at her sides. Her shoulders drop and her meticulously straightpostureseemslessenedsomehow.
Sheisrelieved.
Mavendoesnâtwatchhergo,whollyfocusedonthetaskathand.ThetaskbeingtheLakelanderprincess.
âMylady,âhesays,bowinginherdirection.
Shemerelyinclinesherhead,neverbreakinghersteelygaze.
âIntheeyesofmynoblecourt, Iwouldaskforyourhandinmarriage.âIâve heard these words before. From the same boy. Spoken in front of acrowd,eachwordsoundinglikealocktwistingshut.âIpledgemyselftoyou,IrisCygnet,princessoftheLakelands.Willyouaccept?â
Irisisbeautiful,moregracefulthanherfather.Notadancer,though,butahunter.Shestandsonlonglimbs,unfoldingherselffromherseatinacascadeof soft sapphirevelvet and full, femininecurves. I glimpse leather leggingsbetweentheslashesofhergown.Well-worn,crackedattheknees.Shedidnotcome here unprepared. And like so many here, she doesnât wear gloves,despite the cold. The hand she extends to Maven is amber-skinned, long-fingered,unadorned.Still,hereyesdonotwaver,evenasamistformsfromthe air, swirling around her outstretched hand. It glimmers beforemy eyes,tinydropletsofmoisturecondensingtolife.Theybecometiny,crystalbeadsofwater,eachoneapinprickofrefractinglightastheytwistandmove.
Her first words are in a language I do not know. Lakelander. It isheartbreakinglybeautiful,onewordflowingintothenextlikeaspokensong,likewater.Then,inaccentedNortanâ
âIputmyhandinyours,andpledgemylife toyours,âshereplies,afterherowntraditionsandthecustomsofherkingdom.âIaccept,YourMajesty.â
Heputshisbarehandouttotakehers,thebraceletathiswristsparkingas
hemoves.A current of fire hits the air, snakelike and curling around theirjoinedfingers.Itdoesnotburnher,thoughitcertainlypassescloseenoughtotry.Irisneverflinches.Neverblinks.
Andsoonewarisended.
SEVENTEENMare
It takesmany days to return to Archeon. Not because of the distance. NotbecausethekingoftheLakelandsbroughtnolessthanonethousandpeoplewithhim,courtiersandsoldiersandevenRedservants.ButbecausetheentirekingdomofNortasuddenlyhassomethingtocelebrate.Theendofawar,andan upcomingwedding.Mavenâs now-endless convoy snakes down the IronRoadandthentheRoyalRoadatacrawl.SilversandRedsaliketurnouttocheer,beggingforaglimpseoftheirking.Mavenalwaysobliges,stoppingtomeet crowds with Iris at his side. Despite the deeply bred hatred for theLakelands we are supposed to have, Nortans bow before her. She is acuriosity and a blessing. A bridge. Even King Orrec receives lukewarmwelcomes.Politeclapping,respectfulbows.Anoldenemyturnedintoanallyforthelongroadahead.
Thatâs whatMaven says at every turn. âNorta and the Lakelands standunited now, bound together for the long road ahead. Against all dangersthreateningourkingdoms.âHemeanstheScarletGuard.HemeansCorvium.He means Cal, the rebelling houses, anything and everything that mightthreatenhistenuousgriponpower.
Thereisnoonealivetorememberthedaysbeforewar.Mycountrydoesnot knowwhat peace looks like.Nowonder theymistake this for peace. Iwant to scream at everyRed face I pass. Iwant to carve thewords onmybodysoeveryonehastosee.Trap.Lie.Conspiracy.Notthatmywordsmeananythinganymore.Iâvebeensomeoneelseâspuppetfortoolong.Myvoiceisnot my own. Only my actions are, and those are severely limited bycircumstances.IwoulddespairofmyselfifIcould,butmydaysofwallowingarelongbehindme.Theyhavetobe.OrelseIwillsimplydrown,ahollowdolldraggedbehindachild,emptyineveryinch.
Iwillescape.Iwillescape.Iwillescape.Idonâtdarewhisperthewordsaloud. They run through my mind instead, their rhythm in time with myheartbeat.
No one speaks to me during our journey. Not evenMaven. Heâs busyfeelingouthisnewbetrothed.Igetthesensesheknowswhatkindofperson
heis,andispreparedforhim.Aswithherfather,Ihopetheykilleachother.
The tall spires of Archeon are familiar, but not a comfort. The convoyrollsbackintothejawsofacageIknowalltoowell.Throughthecity,upthesteeproads to thepalatialcompoundofCaesarâsSquareandWhitefire.Thesunisdeceptivelybrightagainstaclearbluesky.Itâsalmostspring.Strange.Partofme thoughtwinterwould last forever,mirroringmyimprisonment. IdonâtknowifIcanstomachwatchingtheseasonsturnfrominsidemyroyalcell.
Iwillescape.Iwillescape.Iwillescape.
EggandTrioallbutpassmebetweeneachother,pullingmedownfromthetransportandmarchingmeupthestepsofWhitefire.Theairiswarm,wet,smellingfreshandclean.AfewmoreminutesinthesunlightandImightstartsweatingbeneathmyscarlet-and-silverjacket.ButIâminsidethepalaceagaininafewseconds,walkingbeneathakingâsransomofchandeliers.Theydonâtbothermesomuch,notaftermyfirstandonlyescapeattempt.Infact, theyalmostmakemesmile.
âHappytobehome?â
Iâm equally startled by someone speaking tome and by exactlywho isspeakingtome.
Iresistthedeepurgetobow,keepingmyspinestraightasIstoptofaceher.TheArvenshaltaswell,closeenoughtograbmeiftheyhaveto.Ifeelarippleoftheirabilitydrainingbitsofmyenergy.Herownguardsarejustasonedge, their attentionson thehall aroundus. I suppose they still thinkofArcheonandNortaasenemyterritory.
âPrincess,â I reply. The title tastes sour, but I donât see much use indirectlyantagonizingyetanotheroneofMavenâsbetrotheds.
Her traveling outfit is deceptively plain. Just leggings and a dark bluejacket,cinchedatthewaisttobettershowherhourglassfigure.Nojewelry,nocrown.Her hair is simple, pulled back into a single black braid. She couldpass for a normal Silver. Wealthy, but not royal. Even her face remainsneutral.Nosmile,nosneer.Nojudgmentof the lightninggirl inherchains.Compared to the nobles Iâve known, itmakes for a jarring contrast and aninconvenient one. I know nothing about her. For all I know, she could beworsethanEvangeline.OrevenElara.Ihavenoideawhothisyoungwomanis,orwhatshethinksofme.Itmakesmeuneasy.
AndIriscantell.
âNo,Iwouldthinknot,âshepusheson.âWalkwithme?â
Sheputsoutahand,crookingitininvitation.Thereisadecentchancemyeyes bug out of my head. But I do as she asks. She sets a quick but notimpossiblepace,forcingbothsetsofguardstofollowusthroughtheentrancehall.
âDespite the name,Whitefire seems a cold place.â Iris looks up at theceiling.Thechandeliersreflectinhergrayeyes,makingthemstarry.âIwouldnotwanttobeimprisonedhere.â
Iscoffdeepinmythroat.ThepoorfoolisabouttobeMavenâsqueen.Icanthinkofnoworseprisonthanthat.
âSomethingfunny,MareBarrow?âshepurrs.
âNothing,YourHighness.â
Her eyes rove over me. They linger on my wrists, at the long sleeveshidingmymanacles.Slowly,shetouchesoneanddrawsinabreath.DespitetheSilentStone and the instinctive fear it inspires, she doesnât flinch. âMyfatherkeepspetsaswell.Perhapsitâssomethingkingsdo.â
Months ago, I would have snapped at her. Iâm not a pet. But she isnâtwrong.Instead,Ishrug.âIhavenâtmetenoughkingstoknow.â
âThreekingsforaRedgirlborntopoornothings.Onemustwonderifthegodsloveorhateyou.â
Idonâtknowwhethertolaughorsneer.âTherearenogods.â
âNotinNorta.Notforyou.âHerexpressionsoftens.Sheglancesoverhershoulder, at the many courtiers and nobles as they mill about. Most donâtbothertohidetheirogling.Ifitannoysher,shedoesnâtshowit.âIwonderiftheycanhearmeinagodlessplacelikethis.Thereisnâtevenatemple.ImustaskMaventobuildmeone.â
Manystrangepeoplehavepassed throughmy life.Butallof themhavepiecesIcanunderstand.EmotionsIknow,dreams,fears. IblinkatPrincessIris and realize that themore she speaks, themore confusing she becomes.Sheseemsintelligent,strong,self-assured,butwhywouldapersonlikethatagreetomarrysuchanobviousmonster?Certainlysheseeshimforwhatheis.Anditcanâtbeblindambitiondrivingherhere.Sheâsaprincessalready,daughterofaking.Whatdoesshewant?Ordidsheevenhaveachoice?Hertalkofgodsisevenmoreconfusing.Wehavenosuchbeliefs.Howcanwe?
âAreyoumemorizingmyface?âsheasksquietlyasItrytoreadher.Iget
thesensesheisdoingthesame,observingmelikeIâmacomplicatedpieceofart.âOrsimplytryingtostealafewmoremomentsoutsidealockedroom?Ifthelatter,Idonotblameyou.Iftheformer,Ihaveafeelingyouâllbeseeingagreatdealofme,andIofyou.â
Fromanyoneelse,itmightsoundlikeathreat.ButIdonâtthinkIriscaresenough aboutme for that.At least she doesnât seem the jealous type. ThatwouldrequirehertohaveanysortoffeelingforMaven,somethingIsorelydoubt.
âTakemetothethroneroom.â
Mylipstwitch,wantingtosmile.Usuallythepeopleheremakerequeststhataretrulyironcommands.Irisistheopposite.Hercommandsoundslikeaquestion.âFine,âImutter,lettingmyfeetguideus.TheArvensdonâtdaretrytopullmeaway.IrisCygnetisnotEvangelineSamos.Crossinghercouldbeconsideredanactofwar.IcanâthelpsmirkingovermyshoulderatTrioandEgg.Bothglowerback.Theirirritationmakesmegrin,eventhroughtheitchofmyscars.
âYouareanoddsortofprisoner,MissBarrow.Ididnotrealizethat,whileMavenpaintsyouasaladyinhisbroadcasts,herequiresyoutobeoneatalltimes.â
Lady.Thetitlenevertrulyappliedtome,andneverwill.âIâmjustawell-dressedandtightlyleashedlapdog.â
âWhat a peculiar king to keep you as he does.Youâre an enemyof thestate, avaluablepieceofpropaganda, and somehow treatedasnear royalty.Butthenboysaresostrangewiththeirtoys.Especiallythoseaccustomed tolosingthings.Theyholdonmoretightlythantherest.â
âAndwhatwouldyoudowithme?âIanswerback.Asqueen,Iriscouldholdmy life inherhands.Shecouldend it,ormake itevenworse.âIfyouwereinhisposition?â
Irisdodgesthequestionartfully.âIwonâtevermakethemistakeoftryingto putmyself in his head. That is not a place any sane person should be.âThenshelaughstoherself.âIassumehismotherspentagoodamountoftimethere.â
ForasmuchasElarahatedmeandmyexistence,IthinkshewouldhateIrismore.Theyoungprincess is formidable to say the least. âYouâre luckyyouneverhadtomeether.â
âAndIthankyouforthat,âIrisreplies.âThoughIhopeyoudonâtkeepup
the tradition of killing queens. Even lapdogs bite.â She blinks at me, grayeyespiercing.âWillyou?â
Iâmnotstupidenoughtorespond.Nowouldbeanakedlie.Yescouldlandmeyetanotherroyalenemy.Shesmirksatmysilence.
ItâsnotalongwalktothegrandchamberwhereMavenholdscourt.Aftersomanydaysbeforethebroadcastcameras,forcedtostomachnewbloodafternewbloodpledgingtheirloyaltytohim,Iknowitintimately.Usuallythedaisiscrowdedwithseats,buttheyâvebeenremovedinourabsence,leavingonlythegray,forbiddingthrone.Irisglaresatitasweapproach.
âAn interesting tactic,â she mutters when we reach it. As with mymanacles,sherunsafingerdowntheblocksofSilentStone.âNecessarytoo.Withsomanywhispersallowedatcourt.â
âAllowed?â
âTheyarenotwelcome in thecourtof theLakelands.Theycannotpassthroughthewallsofourcapital,Detraon,orenterthepalacewithoutproperescorts.Andnowhisperispermittedwithintwentyfeetofthemonarch,âIrisexplains.âInfact,Iknowofnonoblefamilieswhocanclaimsuchanabilityinmycountry.â
âTheydonâtexist?â
âNotwhereIcomefrom.Notanymore.â
Theimplicationhangsintheairlikesmoke.
She pulls away from the throne, tipping her head back and forth. Shedoesnât likewhatever she sees.Her lips purse into a thin line. âHowmanytimeshaveyoufeltthetouchofaMerandusinyourhead?â
Forasplitsecond,Itrytoremember.Stupid.âToomanytimestocount,âItellherwithashrug.âFirstElara,thenSamson.Icanâtdecidewhowasworse.I know now that the queen could look into my mind without me evenknowing.ButheâŠâMyvoicefalters.Thememoryisapainfulone,drawingout a drilling pressure at my temples. I try to massage away the ache.âSamson,youfeeleverysecondheâsinthere.â
Her facegrays.âSomanyeyes in thisplace,â shesays,glancing firstatmyguardsandthenatthewalls.Atthesecuritycameraslookingovereveryinchoftheopenchamber,watchingus.âTheyarewelcometowatch.â
Slowly, she removes her jacket and folds it over her arm. The shirtbeneathiswhite,fastenedhighatherthroat,butbackless.Sheturns,underthe
guiseof examining the throne room.Really, sheâs showingoff.Herback ismuscular, powerful, carved of long lines. Black tattoos cover her from thebaseofherscalp,downherneck,acrosshershoulderblades,alltothebaseofher spine.Roots, I think first. Iâm wrong. Not roots, but whorls of water,curlingandspillingoverherskininperfectlines.Theyrippleasshemoves,alivingthing.Finallysherovesbacktofaceme.Thesmallestsmirkplaysonherlips.
Itdisappearsinaninstantashergazeshiftspastme.Idonâthavetoturnaround toknowwhoapproaches,who leads themany footstepsechoingoffthemarbleandintomyskull.
âIwouldbehappytogiveyouatour,Iris,âMavensays.âYourfather issettling into his apartments, but Iâm sure hewonâtmind ifwe get to knoweachotherbetter.â
The Arvens and Lakelander guards drop back, giving the king and hisSentinels space. Blue uniforms, white, red-orange. Their silhouettes andcolorsaresoingrainedinmeIknowthemoutofthecornerofmyeye.Nonesomuchasthepaleyoungking.IfeelhimasmuchasIseehim,hiscloyingwarmththreateningtoengulfme.Hestopsafewinchesfrommyside,closeenoughtotakemebythehandifhewantsto.Ishudderatthethought.
âIwouldlikethatverymuch,âIrisreplies.Shedipsherheadinanoddlystiltedmanner.Bowingdoesnotcomeeasilytoher.âIwasjustremarkingtoMissBarrowaboutyourââshesearchesfortherightword,glancingbackatthestarkthroneââdecorations.â
Maven offers a tight smile. âA precaution.My fatherwas assassinated,andattemptshavebeenmadeonmeaswell.â
âCould a chair of Silent Stone have saved your father?â she asksinnocently.
Acurrentofheatpulsesthroughtheair.LikeIris,Ifeeltheneedtoshedmyjackettoo,lestMavenâstempersweatmeoutofit.
âNo,mybrotherdecidedthatcuttinghisheadoffwashisbestoption,âhesaysbluntly.âNotmuchdefenseagainstthat.â
Ithappenedinthisverypalace.Afewpassagesandroomsaway,upsomestairstoaplacewithnowindowsandsoundproofedwalls.Whentheguardsdraggedmethere,Iwasinadaze,terrifiedthatMavenandIwereabouttobeexecutedfortreason.Instead,thekingendedupintwopieces.Hishead,hisbody,arushofsilversplatteredinbetween.Instead,Maventookthecrown.
Myfistsclenchatthememory.
âHowhorrible,âIrismurmurs.Ifeelhereyesonme.
âYes,wasnâtit,Mare?â
Hissuddenhandonmyarmburnslikehisbrand.Mycontrolthreatenstosnap,andIglareathimsidelong.âYes,âIforceout throughclenchedteeth.âHorrible.â
Mavennodsinagreement,clenchinghisjawtomakethebonesofhisfacetighten. I canât believe he has the gall to lookmorose. To seem sad.He isneither.Hecanâtbe.Hismother tookaway thepiecesofhimthat lovedhisbrotherandfather.Iwishsheâdtakenthepartthatlovesme.Instead,itfesters,poisoningusbothwithitscorruption.Blackroteatsathisbrainandatanybitof him that might be human. He knows it too. Knows thereâs somethingwrong,somethinghecannotfixwithabilityorpower.Heisbroken,andthereisnohealeronthisearthwhocanmakehimwhole.
âWell, before I take you through my home, thereâs someone else whowouldliketomeetmyfuturebride.SentinelNornus,ifyouwould?âMavengesturesoverhissoldier.Athiscommand,theSentinelinquestionblursintoablazeofredandorange,racingtotheentranceandbackagaininablisteringsecond.Aswift.Inhisrobes,heseemsafireball.
Figuresfollowinhiswake,theirhousecolorsfamiliar.
âPrincess Iris, this is the ruling lord of House Samos, and his family,âMavensays,wavingahandbetweenhisnewbetrothedandtheoldone.
Evangeline stands out in sharp contrast to the simply clothed Iris. Iwonderhowlongittookhertocreatethemolten,metalliquidhuggingeverycurveofherbodylikeglisteningtar.Nomorecrownsandtiarasforher,buther jewelrymore thanmakesup for it.Shewears silverchainsatherneck,wrists, and ears, fine as thread and studded with diamonds. Her brotherâsappearance is different too, absent his usual armor or fur. His ripplingsilhouetteisstillthreateningenough,butPtolemuslooksmorelikehisfathernow, in flawless black velvet with a sparkling silver chain. Volo leads hischildren,withsomeoneIdonâtrecognizeathisside.ButIcancertainlyguesswhosheis.
In that instant, I understand a bitmore of Evangeline. Hermother is afrightful sight.Notbecause sheâsugly.On thecontrary, theolderwoman isseverelybeautiful.ShegaveEvangelineherangularblackeyesandflawlessporcelain skin, but not her slick, straight raven hair and dainty figure.This
womanlookslikeIcouldsnapherintwo,manaclesandall.Probablypartofher facade. She wears her own house colors, black and emerald green,alongsideSamossilvertodenoteherallegiances.Viper.LadyBlonosâsvoicesneers in my head. Black and green are the colors of House Viper.Evangelineâsmother isananimos.Asshegetscloser,hershimmeringdresscomes into better focus. And I realize why Evangeline is so insistent onwearingherability.Itâsafamilytradition.
Hermotherisnâtwearingjewelry.Sheâswearingsnakes.
On her wrists, around her neck. Thin, black, and moving slowly, theirscalesgleaminglikespilledoil.Equalpartsfearanddisgustjoltthroughme.SuddenlyIwanttosprinttomyroom,lockthedoor,andputasmuchdistanceasIcanbetweenmyselfandthewrigglingcreatures.Instead,theygetcloserwithhereveryfootstep.AndIthoughtEvangelinewasbad.
âLordVolo;hiswife,LarentiaofHouseViper; their son,Ptolemus; andtheir daughter, Evangeline. Well-regarded and valuable members of mycourt,âMavenexplains,gesturingtoeachinturn.Hesmilesopenly,showingteeth.
âIâm sorry we were not able to properly meet you sooner.â Volo stepsforward to take Irisâs outstretched hand. With his silver beard freshlytrimmed, itâs easy to see the resemblance between him and his children.Strong bones, elegant lines, long noses, and lips permanently curled into asneer. His skin looks paler against Irisâs as he brushes a kiss to her bareknuckles.âWewerecalledawaytoattendmattersinourownlands.â
Irisdipsherbrow.Apictureofgracenow.âNoapology is required,mylord.â
Overtheirclaspedhands,Mavencatchesmyeye.Hequirksaneyebrowin amusement. If I could, I would ask himwhat he promisedâorwhat hethreatenedHouseSamoswith.TwoCalorekingshaveslipped through theirfingers. So much scheming and plotting, for nothing. I know Evangelinedidnât loveMaven,oreven likehim,but shewas raised tobeaqueen.Herpurposewasstolentwice.Shefailedherselfand,worse,failedherhouse.Atleastnowshehassomeoneotherthanmetoblame.
Evangelineglancesinmydirection,herlashesdarkandlong.Theyflutterforamomentashereyeswaver,tickingbackandforthlikethependulumofanoldclock.ItakeasmallstepawayfromIristoputsomedistancebetweenus.NowthattheSamosdaughterhasanewrivaltohate,Idonâtwanttogiveherthewrongimpression.
âAndyouwerebetrothedtotheking?âIrispullsherhandbackfromVoloandknitsherfingerstogether.Evangelineâseyesmoveawayfrommetofacethe princess. For once, I see her on an even fieldwith an equal opponent.Maybe Iâllget luckyandEvangelinewillmisstep, threaten Iris thewaysheusedtothreatenme.IhaveafeelingIriswonâttolerateawordofit.
âForatime,yes,âEvangelinesays.âAndhisbrotherbeforehim.â
Theprincessisnotsurprised.IassumetheLakelandsarewellinformedoftheNortanroyals.âWell,Iâmgladyouâvereturnedtocourt.Wewillrequireagoodamountofhelpinorganizingourwedding.â
Ibitemy lip sohard Ialmostdrawblood.Better that than laughingoutloudasIrispourssaltintosomanySamoswounds.Acrossfromme,Maventurnshisheadtohideasneer.
Oneofthesnakeshisses,alow,droningsoundimpossibletomistake.ButLarentiaquicklycurtsies,sweepingoutthefabricofhershimmeringgown.
âWe are at your disposal,YourHighness,â she says.Her voice is deep,richassyrup.Aswewatch, the thickestsnake,aroundherneck,nuzzlesuppast her ear and into her hair.Revolting. âItwould be an honor to aid youhowever we can.â I half expect her to elbow Evangeline into agreeing.Instead,theViperwomanturnsherattentiononme,soquicklyIdonâthavetimetolookaway.âIsthereareasontheprisonerisstaringatme?â
âNone,âIrespond,teethclickingtogether.
Larentia takesmyeyecontactasachallenge.Likeananimal.Shestepsforward,closingthedistancebetweenus.Weârethesameheight.Thesnakeinherhaircontinueshissing,coilingandtwistingdownontohercollarbone.Itsjewel-brighteyesmeetmine,anditsforkedblacktonguelickstheair,dartingout between long fangs. Even though I stand my ground, I canât help butswallowhard,mymouthsuddenlydry.Thesnakekeepswatchingme.
âTheysayyouaredifferent,âLarentiamutters.âButyourfearsmellsthesameasthatofeveryvileRedratIâveeverhadthemisfortunetoknow.â
Redrat.Redrat.
Iâveheardthatsomanytimes.Thoughtitaboutmyself.Fromherlips,itcrackssomethinginme.ThecontrolIâveworkedsohardtomaintain,thatImust keep if I want to stay alive, threatens to unravel. I take a draggingbreath,willingmyselftokeepstill.Hersnakescontinuehissing,curlingoverone another in black tangles of scale and spine. Some are long enough toreachmeifshewillsitso.
Mavensighslowinhisthroat.âGuards,IthinkitâstimeMissBarrowwasreturnedtoherroom.â
IspinonmyheelbeforetheArvenscanjumptomyside,retreatingintothe so-called safety of their presence. Something about the snakes, I tellmyself. I couldnât stand them. No wonder Evangeline is horrific, with amotherlikethattoraiseher.
As I flee back to my rooms, Iâm seized by an unwelcome sensation.Relief.Gratitude.ToMaven.
I crush that vile burst of emotionwith all the rage I have.Maven is amonster. I feelnothingbuthatred towardhim.Icannotallowanythingelse,evenpity,tocreepin.
IMUSTESCAPE.
Twolongmonthspass.
MavenâsweddingwillbetentimestheproductionthatthePartingBall,oreven Queenstrial, was. Silver nobles flood back into the capital, bringingentourages with them from all corners of Norta. Even the ones the kingexiled.Maven feels safe enough in his new alliance to allow even smilingenemiesthroughhisdoor.Thoughmosthavecityhousesoftheirown,manytakeupresidenceinWhitefire,untilthepalaceitselfseemsreadytoburstattheseams.Iâmkepttomyroommostly.Idonâtmind.Itâsbetterthisway.Butevenfrommycell,Icanfeeltheimpendingstormofawedding.ThetangibleunionofNortaandtheLakelands.
Thecourtyardbelowmywindow, emptyallwinter long, flourishes in asuddenlywarmandgreenspring.Nobleswalkthroughthemagnoliatreesatalazy pace, some arm in arm. Always whispering, always scheming orgossiping.IwishIcouldreadlips.Imightlearnsomethingotherthanwhichhouses seem to congregate together, their colors brighter in the sunlight.Mavenwouldhavetobeafooltothinktheyarenâtplottingagainsthimorhisbride.Andheismanythings,butnotthat.
TheoldroutineIusedtopassmyfirstmonthofisolationâwake,eat,sit,scream,repeatâdoesnâtserveanymore.Ihavemoreusefulwaystopassthetime.Therearenopensandpaper,andIdonâtbothertoask.Nouseleavingscraps.Instead,IstareatJulianâsbooks,idlyturningpages.SometimesIlatchon to jottednotes, annotations scrawled in Julianâshandwriting. Interesting;curious;corroboratewithvolumeIV.Idlewordswithlittlemeaning.Ibrushmyfingersalongthelettersanyway,feelingdryinkandthepressofalong-gonepen.EnoughofJuliantokeepmethinking,readingbetweenlinesonthe
pageandwordsspokenaloud.
He ruminatesononevolume inparticular, thinner than thehistoriesbutdenselypackedwith text.Itsspineisbadlybroken, thepagesclutteredwithJulianâswriting.Icanalmostfeelthewarmthofhishandsastheysmoothedthetatteredpages.
OnOrigins, thecoversays inembossedblack lettering, followedby thenamesofadozenSilverscholarswhowrotethemanyessaysandargumentswithinthesmallbook.Mostofitistoocomplexformyunderstanding,butIsiftthroughitanyway.IfonlyforJulian.
Hemarkedonepassageinparticular,dog-earingthepageandunderlininga fewsentences.Somethingaboutmutations,changes.The resultofancientweaponrywenolongerpossessandcannolongercreate.Oneofthescholarsbelieves it made Silvers. Others disagree. A few mention gods instead,perhapstheonesthatIrisfollows.
Julianmakeshisownpositionclearinnotesatthebottomofthepage.
Strange that so many thought themselves gods, or a godâs chosen, hewrote. Blessed by something greater. Elevated to what we are. When allevidencepoints to theopposite.Ourabilities came fromcorruption, fromascourgethatkilledmost.Wewerenotagodâschosen,butagodâscursed.
I blink at the words and wonder. If Silvers are cursed, then what arenewbloods?Worse?
OrisJulianwrong?Arewechosentoo?Andforwhat?
Menandwomenmuchsmarterthanmehavenoanswers,andneitherdoI.Nottomention,Ihavemorepressingthingstothinkabout.
IplanwhileIeatbreakfast,chewingslowlyasIrunthroughwhatIknow.Aroyalweddingwillbeorganizedchaos.Extrasecurity,moreguardsthanIcancount,butstillagoodenoughchance.Servantseverywhere,drunknobles,aforeignprincesstodistractthepeopleusuallyfocusedonme.Iâdbestupidnottotrysomething.Calwouldbestupidnottotrysomething.
Iglareatthepagesinhand,atwhitepaperandblackink.NannytriedtosavemeandNannyendedupdead.Awasteoflife.AndIselfishlywantthemtotryagain.BecauseifIstayheremuchlonger,ifIhavetolivetherestofmylifeafewstepsbehindMaven,withhishauntingeyesandhismissingpiecesandhishatredforeveryoneinthisworldâ
Hatredforeveryonebutâ
âStop,â I hiss to myself, fighting the urge to let in the silk monsterknockingatthewallsofmymind.âStopit.â
Memorizationof the layoutofWhitefire is agooddistraction, theoneIusually rely on. Two lefts frommy door, through a gallery of statues, leftagain down a spiraling stair ⊠I trace the way to the throne room, theentrance hall, the banquet hall, different studies and council chambers,Evangelineâs quarters, Mavenâs old bedroom. Every step Iâve taken here Imemorize.ThebetterIknowthepalace,thebetterchanceIhaveofescapingwhen the opportunity arises. CertainlyMaven will marry Iris in the RoyalCourt,ifnotinCaesarâsSquareitself.Nowhereelsecanholdsomanyguestsandguards.Icanâtseethecourtfrommywindow,andIâveneverbeeninside,butIâllcrossthatbridgewhenIcometoit.
Maven hasnât dragged me to his side since we returned. Good, I tellmyself.Anemptyroomanddaysofsilencearebetterthanhiscloyingwords.Still, I feel a tug of disappointment every night when I shutmy eyes. Iâmlonely;Iâmafraid;Iâmselfish.IfeelemptiedoutbytheSilentStoneandthemonthsIâvespenthere,walkingtheedgeofanotherrazor.Itwouldbesoeasytoletthebrokenpiecesofmefallapart.Itwouldbesoeasytolethimputmebacktogetherhoweverhewishes.Maybe, inafewyears, itwonâtevenfeellikeaprison.
No.
Forthefirsttimeinawhile,Ismashmybreakfastplateagainstthewall,screaming as I do it. The water glass next. It explodes in crystal shards.Brokenthingsmakemefeelabitbetter.
MydoorburstsopeninhalfasecondastheArvensenter.Eggisthefirsttomyside,holdingmebackinmychair.Hisgripisfirm,preventingmefromgettingup.Nowtheyknowbetterthantoletmeanywherenearthewreckageastheyclean.
âMaybeyoushouldstartgivingmeplastic,âIscofftonoone.âSeemslikeabetteridea.â
Eggwantstohitme.Hisfingersdigintomyshoulders,probablyleavingbruises.TheSilentStonemakesthehurtbitebone-deep.Mystomachtwistsas I realize I can barely remember what itâs like not to be in constant,smotheringpainandanguish.
Theotherguardssweepawaythedebris,unflinchingasglassdragsovertheir gloved hands. Only when they disappear, their throbbing presencemelting away, do I once again have the strength to stand.Annoyed, I slam
shutthebookIwasnâtreading.GenealogyofNortanNobility,VolumeIX,thecoversays.Useless.
With nothing better to do, I put it back on the shelf.The leather-boundbook slides in neatly between its brothers, volumesVIII andX.Maybe Iâllpull theother booksdownand rearrange them.Waste a few secondsof theendlesshours.
I end up on the floor instead, trying to stretch a bit farther than I didyesterday.Myoldagilityisafaintmemory,restrictedbycircumstance.Itryanyway,inchingmyfingerstowardmytoes.Themusclesinmylegsburn,abetter feeling than the ache. I chase the pain. Itâs one of the only things toremindmeIâmstillaliveinthisshell.
Theminutesbleedintooneanotherandtimestretcheswithme.Outside,thelightshiftsasspringcloudschaseeachotheracrossthesun.
The knock onmy door is soft, uncertain. No one has ever bothered toknock before, and my heart leaps. But the rush of adrenaline dies off. Arescuerwouldnotknock.
Evangelinepushesopenthedoor,notwaitingforaninvitation.
Idonâtmove,rootedtothespotbyasuddenrushoffear.Idrawmylegsupundermyself.ReadytospringifIneedto.
Shelooksdownhernoseatme,herusualsuperiorselfinalong,glintingcoatandtightlysewnleatherleggings.Foramomentshestandsstill,andwetradeglancesinthesilence.
âAre you so dangerous they canât even let you open a window?â Shesniffsattheair.âItstinksinhere.â
Mytightenedmusclesrelaxalittle.âSoyouârebored,âImutter.âGorattlesomeoneelseâscage.â
âPerhapslater.Butfornow,youâregoingtobeofuse.â
âIreallydonâtfeellikebeingyourdartboard.â
Shesmacksherlips.âOh,notmine.â
Withonehand,sheseizesmeunderthearmpitandhoistsmetomyfeet.As soon as her arm enters the sphere of my Silent Stone, her sleeve fallsaway, collapsing to the floor in bits of gleaming metal dust. It quicklyreattachesandfallsagain,movinginaneven,strangerhythmasshemarchesmefrommyroom.
Idonâtstruggle.Thereâsnopointinit.Eventuallysheloosensherbruisinggripandletsmewalkwithoutthepinchofherhand.
âIfyouwanted to take thepet forawalk,allyouhad todowasask,â Igrowl at her,massagingmynewest bruise. âDonât you have a new rival tohate?Orisiteasiertopickonaprisonerratherthanaprincess?â
âIrisisfartoocalmformyliking,âsheshootsback.âYoustillhavesomebite,atleast.â
âGood to know I amuse you.â The passage twists in front of us. Left,right, right.TheblueprintofWhitefire sharpens inmymindâseye.Wepassthephoenix tapestries in redandblack, edges studdedwith realgemstones.Thenagalleryof statuesandpaintingsdedicated toCaesarCalore, the firstkingofNorta.Beyondit,downahalfflightofmarblesteps,iswhatIcalltheBattleHall.Astretchingpassageilluminatedbyskylights,thewallsoneithersidedominatedbytwomonstrouspaintings,inspiredbytheLakelanderWar,stretchingfromfloortoceiling.Butshedoesnâtleadmepastpaintedscenesofdeath andglory.Weârenotgoingdown to the court levelsof thepalace.Thehallsbecomemoreornate,butwithfewerpublicdisplaysofopulenceasshe leads me to the royal residences. An increasing number of gildedpaintingsofkings,politicians,andwarriorswatchmego,mostofthemwiththecharacteristicCaloreblackhair.
âHasKingMavenletyoukeepyourrooms,atleast?Eventhoughhetookyourcrown?â
Herlipstwist.Intoasmirk,notascowl.âSee?Youneverdisappoint.Allbite,MareBarrow.â
Iâveneverbeen to thesedoorsbefore.But I canguesswhere they lead.Toograndtobeforanyonebutaking.Whitelacqueredwood,silverandgoldtrim,inlaidwithmotherofpearlandruby.Evangelinedoesnâtknockthistimeandthrowsthedoorsopen,onlytofindanopulentantechamberlinedbysixSentinels.Theybristleatourpresence,handsstrayingtoweapons,eyessharpbehindtheirglitteringmasks.
Shedoesnâtbalk.âTellthekingMareBarrowisheretoseehim.â
âThekingisindisposed,âoneanswers.Hisvoicetrembleswithpower.Abanshee.Hecouldscreamusbothdeafifgiventhechance.âBegone,LadySamos.â
Evangelineshowsnofearandrunsahandthroughherlongsilverbraid.âTellhim,âshesaysagain.Shedoesnâthavetodrophervoiceorsnarltobe
threatening.âHeâllwanttoknow.â
Myheartpoundsinmychest.Whatisshedoing?Why?Thelasttimeshedecided toparademearoundWhitefire, Iendedupat themercyofSamsonMerandus,mymindsplitopenforhimtosiftthrough.Shehasanagenda.Shehasmotives.IfonlyIknewwhattheywere,soIcoulddotheopposite.
One of the Sentinels breaks before she does. He is a broad man, hismusclesevidentevenbeneaththefoldsofhisfieryrobes.Heinclineshisface,theblackjewelsofhismaskcatchingthelight.âAmoment,mylady.âIcanâtstandMavenâschambers. Justbeinghere feels likestepping intoquicksand.Plungingintotheocean,fallingoffacliff.Sendusaway.Sendusaway.
The Sentinel returns quickly. When he waves off his comrades, mystomachdrops.âThisway,Barrow.âHebeckonstome.
Evangelinegivesmetheslightestnudge,puttingpressureonthebaseofmyspine.Perfectlyexecuted.Ilurchforward.
âJustBarrow,âtheSentineladds.HeeyestheArvensinsuccession.
Theystayinplace, lettingmego.SodoesEvangeline.Hereyesdarken,blacker than ever. Iâm seizedby the strange urge to grab her andbring herwithme.FacingMavenalone,here,issuddenlyterrifying.
TheSentinel,probablyaRhambosstrongarm,doesnâthavetotouchmetoherdmeintheproperdirection.Wecrossthroughasittingroomfloodedwithsunlight,oddlyemptyandbarelydecorated.Nohousecolors,nopaintingsorsculptures, or even books. Calâs old room was cluttered, bursting withdifferenttypesofarmor,hispreciousmanuals,evenagameboard.Piecesofhimstrewneverywhere.Mavenisnothisbrother.Hehasnocausetoperform,nothere,andtheroomreflectsthehollowboyhetrulyisinside.
Hisbed is strangely small.Built for a child, even though the roomwasclearly arranged to hold something much, much bigger. The walls of hisbedroom are white, unadorned. The windows are the only decoration,overlookingacornerofCaesarâsSquare, theCapitalRiver,andthebridgeIoncehelpeddestroy. It spans thewater, connectingWhitefire to the easternhalf of the city. Greenery bursts to life in every direction, peppered withblossoms.
Slowly, theSentinelclearshis throat. Iglanceathimandshiverwhen Irealizeheâsgoingtoabandonmetoo.âThatway,âhesays,pointingatanothersetofdoors.
Itwouldbeeasierifsomeonedraggedme.IftheSentinelputaguntomy
headandmademewalkthrough.Blamingmymovingfeetonanotherpersonwould hurt less. Instead, itâs only me. Boredom. Morbid curiosity. Theconstant ache of pain and loneliness. I live in a shrinkingworldwhere theonlythingIcantrust isMavenâsobsession.Likethemanacles, it isashieldandaslow,smotheringdeath.
Thedoorsswinginward,glidingoverwhitemarbletile.Steamspiralsonthe air.Not from the fire kinghimself, but hotwater. It boils lazily aroundhim, milky with soap and scented oils. Unlike his bed, the bath is large,standingonclawedsilverfeet.Herestsanelbowoneithersideoftheflawlessporcelain,fingerstrailinglazilythroughtheswirlingwater.
Maven tracksmeas Ienter,hiseyeselectricand lethal. Iâvenever seenhimsooffguardandsoangry.Asmartergirlwouldturnandrun.Instead,Ishutthedoorbehindme.
Therearenoseats,soIremainstanding.Iâmnotsurewheretolook,soIfocus on his face.His hair ismussed, soakingwet.Dark curls cling to hisskin.
âIâmbusy,âhewhispers.
âYoudidnâthavetoletmein.âIwishIcouldcallbackthewordsassoonasIspeakthem.
âYes I did,â he says, meaning all things. Then he blinks, breaking hisstare.Heleansback,tippinghisheadagainsttheporcelainsohecanstareupattheceiling.âWhatdoyouneed?â
Awayout,forgiveness,agoodnightâssleep,myfamily.Theliststretches,endless.
âEvangelinedraggedmehere.Idonâtwantanythingfromyou.â
He makes a noise low in his throat. Almost a laugh. âEvangeline.MySentinelsarecowards.â
If Maven were my friend, I would warn him not to underestimate adaughterofHouseSamos.Instead,Iholdmytongue.Thesteamstickstomyskin,feverishashotflesh.
âShebroughtyouheretoconvinceme,âhesays.
âConvinceyoutodowhat?â
âMarryIris,donâtmarryIris.Shecertainlydidnâtsendyouinhereforateaparty.â
âNo.â Evangeline will keep scheming for a queenâs crown up until thesecondMavenputsitonanothergirlâshead.Itâswhatshewasmadefor.JustlikeMavenwasmadeforother,morehorriblethings.
âShethinkswhatIfeelforyoucancloudmyjudgment.Foolish.â
Iflinch.Thebrandonmycollarbonesearsbeneathmyshirt.
âHeardyoustartedsmashingthingsagain,âhecontinues.
âYouhavebadtasteinchina.â
Hegrinsattheceiling.Acrookedsmile.Likehisbrotherâs.Forasecond,MavenâsfacebecomesCalâs,theirfeaturesshifting.Withajolt,IrealizeIâvebeenherelongerthanIevenknewCal.IknowMavenâsfacebetterthanhis.
Heshifts,makingthewaterrippleashedanglesanarmoutofthebath.Iwrench my eyes away, look down at the tile. I have three brothers, and afatherwhocanâtwalk. Ispentmonthssharingaglorifiedholewithadozenstinkingmenandboys.Iâmnotastrangertothemaleform.DoesnâtmeanIwant toseemoreofMaventhanImust.AgainIfeelmyselfontheedgeofquicksand.
âThe wedding is tomorrow,â he finally says. His voice echoes off themarble.
âOh.â
âYoudidnâtknow?â
âHowcouldI?Iâmnotexactlykeptinformed.â
Mavenshrugs,raisinghisshoulders.Anothershiftofthewater,showingmoreofhiswhiteskin.âYes,well,Ididnâtreallythinkyouweregoingtostartbreaking things over me, butâŠâ He pauses and looks my way.My bodyprickles.âItfeltgoodtowonder.â
If therewere no consequences, Iwould scowl and screamand clawhiseyesout.TellMaventhateventhoughmytimewithhisbrotherwasfleeting,Istillremembereveryheartbeatweshared.Thefeelofhimpressedupagainstmeasweslept,alonetogether,tradingnightmares.Hishandatmyneck,fleshonflesh,makingmelookathimaswedroppedfromthesky.Whathesmellslike.Whathetasteslike.Iloveyourbrother,Maven.Youwereright.Youareonlyashadow,andwholooksatshadowswhentheyhaveflame?Whowouldeverchooseamonsteroveragod? IcanâthurtMavenwith lightning,but Icandestroyhimwithwords.Poke at hisweak spots, openhiswounds.Lethimbleedandscaboverintosomethingworsethanheeverwasbefore.
ThewordsImanagetospeakarequitedifferent.
âDoyoulikeIris?âIaskinstead.
Hescratchesahandalonghis scalpandhuffs, childlike. âAs if thathasanythingtodowithit.â
âWell,sheisthefirstnewrelationshipyouâllhavesinceyourmotherdied.Itâllbe interesting toseehowthatplayswithoutherpoison inyou.âIdrummy fingers at my side. The words sink in slowly, and he barely nods.Agreeing. I feel a surgeofpity forhim. I fight it tooth andnail. âAndyouwerebetrothedtwomonthsago.Itseemsfast,fasterthanyourengagementtoEvangelineatleast.â
âThattendstohappenwhenanentirearmyhangsinthebalance,âhesayssharply.âLakelandersarenotknownfortheirpatience.â
Iscoff.âAndHouseSamosissoaccommodating?â
Acornerofhismouthliftsinghostofthatcrookedsmile.Hefiddleswithone of his flamemaker bracelets, slowly spinning the silver circle around afine-bonedwrist.âTheyhavetheiruses.â
âIthoughtEvangelinewouldhaveturnedyouintoapincushionbynow.â
Hissmilespreads.âIfshekillsme,sheloseswhateverchanceshethinksshe has, however fleeting. Not that her father would ever allow it. HouseSamosmaintainsapositionofgreatpower,evenifsheisnâtqueen.Butwhataqueenshewouldhavemade.â
âI can only imagine.â The thought shudders through me. Crowns ofneedlesanddaggersandrazors,hermotherinjeweledsnakesandherfatherholdingMavenâspuppetstrings.
âIcanât,âheadmits.âNot really.Evennow,IonlyeverseeherasCalâsqueen.â
âYoudidnâthavetochooseherafteryouframedhimââ
âWell,IcouldnâtexactlychoosethepersonIwanted,couldI?âhesnaps.Instead of heat, I feel the air around us turn cold. Enough to make goosebumps prickle acrossmy skin as he glares atme, his eyes a livid, burningblue.The steamon the air clearson the currentof cooler air, removing thefaintbarrierbetweenus.
Shivering,Iforcemyselftotheclosestwindow,puttingmybacktohim.Outside, themagnolia trees shudderona lightbreeze, theirblossomswhiteand cream and rosy in the sunshine. Such simple beauty has no place here
withoutthecorruptionofbloodorambitionorbetrayal.
âYouthrewmeintoanarenatodie,âItellhimslowly.Asifeitherofuscouldforget.âYoukeepmechainedupinyourpalace,guardednightandday,Youletmewasteaway,sickââ
âYouthinkIenjoyseeingyoulikethis?âhemurmurs.âYouthinkIwanttokeepyouaprisoner?âSomethinghitchesinhisbreath.âItâstheonlywayyouâllstaywithme.âWatersloshesoverhishandsashedrawsthembackandforth.
Ifocusonthesoundinsteadofhisvoice.EventhoughIknowwhatheâsdoing,eventhoughIcanfeelhisgriponmetightening,Icanâtstopit frompullingmeunder.Itwouldbetooeasytoletmyselfdrown.Partofmewantsto.
Ikeepmyeyesonthewindow.Foronce,Iâmgladfortheall-too-familiaracheofSilentStone.Itisanundeniablereminderofwhatheis,andwhathislovemeansforme.
âYoutriedtomurdereveryoneIcareabout.Youkilledchildren.âAbaby,bloodstained, a note in its little fist. I remember it so vividly it could be anightmare.Idonâttrytoforcetheimageaway.Ineedtorememberit.Ineedtorememberwhatheis.âBecauseofyou,mybrotherisdead.â
Ispintohim,barkingoutaharsh,vengefullaugh.Angerclearsmyhead.
Hesitsupsharply,hisnakedtorsoalmostaswhiteasthebathwater.
âAnd you killedmymother.You tookmybrother.You tookmy father.The secondyou fell into theworld, thewheelswere inmotion.Mymotherlooked intoyourheadandsawopportunity.Shesawachanceshehadbeenlooking for forever. If you hadnâtâif you had neverââ He stumbles, thewordscomingfasterthanhecanstopthem.Thenhegritshisteeth,clampingdownonanythingmoredamning.Anotherbreathofsilence.âIdonâtwanttoknowwhatwouldhavebeen.â
âI know,â I snarl. âIwouldâve ended up in a trench, obliterated or tornapart or barely surviving as the walking dead. I know what I would havebecome, because amillionothers live it.My father,mybrothers, toomanypeople.â
âKnowingwhatyouknownowâŠwouldyougoback?Wouldyouchoosethatlife?Conscription,yourmuddytown,yourfamily,thatriverboy?â
Somanyaredeadbecauseofme,becauseofwhatIam.IfIwerejusta
Red, just Mare Barrow, they would be alive. Shade would be alive. Mythoughtshingeonhim. Iwould tradesomany things tohavehimback. Iâdtrademyself a thousand times.But then there are thenewbloods foundandsaved. Rebellions aided.Awar ended. Silvers tearing at one another. Redsuniting. I had a hand in all of it, however small.Mistakesweremade.Mymistakes.Toomanytocount.Iamworldsawayfromperfect,orevengood.Thetruequestioneatsatmybrain.WhatMavenisreallyasking.Wouldyougiveupyourability,wouldyou tradeyourpower, togoback? I donâtneedtimetofigureoutananswer.
âNo,â I whisper. I donât remember moving so close to him, my handclosingononesideoftheporcelainbath.âNo,Iwouldnât.â
Theconfessionburnsworsethanflame,eatingatmyinsides.Ihatehimforwhathemakesmefeel,whathemakesmerealize.IwonderifIcanmovefast enough to incapacitate him. Clench a fist, bust his jaw with the hardmanacle.Canskinhealers regrow teeth?No realpoint in trying. Iwouldnâtlivetofindout.
Hestaresupatme.âThosewhoknowwhat itâs like in thedarkwilldoanythingtostayinthelight.â
âDonâtactlikeweârethesame.â
âThesame?No.âHeshakeshishead.âButperhapsâŠweâreeven.â
âEven?âAgainIwanttotearhimapart.Usemynails,myteethtoriphisthroat.Theinsinuationcuts.Almostasmuchasthefactthathemightberight.
âIusedtoaskJonifhecouldseefuturesthatnolongerexist.Hesaidthepathswerealwayschanging.Aneasylie.ItlethimmanipulatemeinawayevenSamsoncouldnât.Andwhenheledmetoyou,well,Ididnâtargue.HowwasIsupposedtoknowwhatapoisonyouwouldbe?â
âIfIâmapoison,thengetridofme.Stoptorturingusboth!â
âYou know I canât do that, no matter how much I may want to.â Hislashes flickerandhiseyesgo faraway.SomewhereevenIcanât reachhim.âYouâre like Thomas was. You are the only person I care about, the onlypersonwhoremindsmeIamalive.Notempty.Andnotalone.â
Alive.Notempty.Notalone.
Eachconfession isanarrow,piercingeverynerveendinguntilmybodyturnstocoldfire.IhatethatMavencansaysuchthings.IhatethathefeelswhatIfeel,fearswhatIfear.Ihateit;Ihateit.AndifIcouldchangewhoam,
howIthink,Iwould.ButIcanât.IfIrisâsgodsarereal,theycertainlyknowIâvetried.
âJon would not tell me about the dead futuresâthe ones no longerpossible. I think about them, though,â he mumbles. âA Silver king, a Redqueen.Howwouldthingshavechanged?Howmanywouldstillbealive?â
âNotyourfather.NotCal.Andcertainlynotme.â
âIknowitâs justadream,Mare,âhesnaps.Likeachildcorrectedintheclassroom.âAnywindowwehad,howeversmall,isgone.â
âBecauseofyou.â
âYes.âSofter,anadmissionofhisown.âYes.â
Neverbreakingeyecontact,Mavenslipstheflamemakerbraceletfromhiswrist. Itâs slow, deliberate, methodic. I hear it hit the floor and roll, silvermetalringingagainstthemarble.Theotherquicklyfollows.Stillwatching,heleansbackinthebathandtipshishead.Exposinghisneck.Atmyside,myhands twitch. Itwould be so easy.Wrapmybrown fingers aroundhis paleneck. Put all my weight into it. Pin him down. Cal is afraid of water. IsMaven?Icoulddrownhim.Killhim.Letthebathwaterboilusboth.Hedaresme to do it. Part of himmightwantme to do it.Or it could be one of thethousandtrapsIâvefallenfor.AnothertrickofMavenCalore.
He blinks and exhales, letting go of something deep inside himself. Itbreaksthespellandthemomentshatters.
âYouâllbeoneofIrisâsladiestomorrow.Enjoyyourself.â
Onemorearrowtothegut.
Iwishforanotherglass tosmashagainst thewall.Alady-in-waitingforthewedding of the century.No chance of slipping away. Iâll have to standbefore the entire court. Guards everywhere. Eyes everywhere. I want toscream.
Usetheanger.Usetherage,Itrytotellmyself.Instead,itjustconsumesmeandturnstodespair.
Mavenjustgestureslazilywithanopenhand.âThereâsthedoor.â
ItrynottolookbackasIgo,butIcanâthelpmyself.Mavenstaresattheceiling,hiseyesempty.AndIhearJulianinmyhead,whisperingthewordshewrote.
Notagodâschosen,butagodâscursed.
EIGHTEENMare
For once, I am not the object of torture. If I had the opportunity, I wouldthankIrisforallowingmetosittothesideandbeignored.Evangelinetakesmyplaceinstead.Shetriestolookserene,unaffectedbythescenearoundus.The rest of the bridal entourage keeps glancing at her, the girl they weresupposed to serve.At anymoment, I expect her to curl up like one of hermotherâs snakes and start hissing at every personwhodares comewithin afewfeetofhergildedchair.Afterall,thesechambersusedtobehers.
The salon is redecorated for its new occupant and rightfully so. Brightbluewallhangings,freshflowersinclearwater,andseveralgentlefountainsmakeitunmistakable.AprincessoftheLakelandsreignshere.
Inthecenteroftheroom,Irissurroundsherselfwithservants,Redmaidsinfinitely skilled in the art of beauty. She needs little help. Her cliff-highcheekbones anddark eyes aremagnificent enoughwithout paint.Onemaidintricatelybraidsherblackhair intoacrown, fastening itwithsapphireandpearlpins.Another rubssparklingblush to sculpt an alreadybeautiful bonestructureintosomethingetherealandotherworldly.Herlipsareadeeppurple,expertlydrawn.Thedress itself,white fading tobright, shimmeringblue atthe hem, sets off her dark skin with a glow like the sky moments after asunset.EventhoughappearanceisthelastthingIshouldbeworriedabout,Ifeellikeadiscardeddollnexttoher.Iâminredagain,simpleincomparisontomyusualjewelsandbrocade.IfIwereabithealthier,Imightlookbeautifultoo.Not that Imind. Iâmnotsupposed toshine, Idonâtwant toshineâandnexttoher,Icertainlywonât.
Evangeline couldnât contrast Iris more if she triedâand she certainlytried.WhileIriseagerlyplaysthepartofayoung,blushingbride,Evangelinehaswillinglyacceptedtheroleofthegirlscornedandcastaside.Herdressismetalsoiridescentitcouldbemadeofpearl,withrazoredwhitefeathersandsilver inlay throughout. Her own maids flutter about, putting the finishingtouchesonherappearance.ShestaresatIristhroughitall,blackeyesneverwavering.Onlywhenhermothermovestohersidedoesshebreakfocus,andthen only to inch away from the emerald-green butterflies decoratingLarentiaâsskirts.Theirwingsflutteridly,asifinabreeze.Agentlereminder
that they are living things, attached to theViperwoman by ability alone. Ihopeshedoesnâtintendtosit.
Iâveseenweddingsbefore,backhomein theStilts.Crudegatherings.Afewbindingwords and a hasty party. Families scrounge to provide enoughfoodfortheinvitedguests,whilethosewhowanderthroughgetnothingmorethanagoodshow.Kilornand Iused to try topinch leftovers, if therewereany.Fillourpocketswithbreadrollsandslinkofftoenjoythespoils.IdonâtthinkIâllbedoingthattoday.
TheonlythingIâllbeholdingontoisIrisâslongtrainandmyownsanity.
âPitymoreofyourfamilycouldnotbeheretoattend,YourHighness.â
Anolderwoman,herhairentirelygray,distancesherselffromthemanySilver ladies awaiting Iris. She crosses her arms over an immaculate blackdressuniform.Unlikemostofficers,herbadgesarefew,butstillimpressive.Iâveneverseenherbefore,thoughthereâssomethingfamiliaraboutherface.Butfromthisangle,withherfeaturesinprofile,Icanâtplaceit.
Iris inclines her head to the woman. Behind her, two maids fasten ashimmeringveilinplace.âMymotherisrulingqueenoftheLakelands.Shemustalwayssitthethrone.Andmyoldersister,herheir,isloathtoleaveourkingdom.â
âUnderstandable, in such tumultuous times.â The older woman bowsback,butnotasdeeplyasonewouldexpect.âMycongratulations,PrincessIris.â
âMythanks,YourMajesty.Iâmgladyouwereabletojoinus.â
Majesty?
Theolderwomanturnsfully,puttingherbacktoIrisasthemaidsfinishtheirwork.Hereyesfallonme,narrowingintheslightest.Withonehandshebeckons.Agiantblackgemflashesonherringfinger.Oneitherside,Kittenand Clover bump me forward, pushing me at the woman who somehowcommandsatitle.
âMissBarrow,âshesays.Thewomanissturdy,withathickwaist,andshehas a few good inches on me. I glance at her uniform, looking for housecolorstodistinguishwhoshemightbe.
âYourMajesty?â I reply, using the title. It sounds like a question, andtruly,itis.
Sheoffersanamusedsmile.âIwishIhadmetyoubefore.Whenyouwere
masqueradingasMareenaTitanosandnotreducedtothisââshetouchesmycheek lightly,makingme flinchââthis personwasting away.Maybe then Icouldunderstandwhymygrandsonthrewhiskingdomawayforyou.â
Hereyesarebronze.Red-gold.Iwouldknowhereyesanywhere.
Despite the wedding party milling around us, the clouds of silk andperfume,Ifeelmyselfslidebackintothathorriblemomentwhenakinglosthisheadandasonlosthisfather.Andthiswomanlostthemboth.
Out of the depths of memory, mymoments wasted reading histories, Iremember her name. Anabel, of House Lerolan. Queen Anabel.Mother toTiberias the Sixth.Calâs grandmother.Now I see her crown, rose gold andblack diamonds nestled into her neatly tied hair.A little thing compared towhatroyalsusuallyprancearoundin.
She pulls her hand away. All the better. Anabel is an oblivion. I donâtwantherfingersanywherenearme.Theycoulddestroymewithatouch.
âIâmsorryaboutyourson.âKingTiberiaswasnotakindman,nottome,not toMaven,not tomore thanhalfhiscountry livinganddyingas slaves.ButhelovedCalâsmother.Helovedhischildren.Hewasnotevil.Justweak.
Hergazeneverbreaks.âOdd,sinceyouhelpedkillhim.â
Thereisnoaccusationinhervoice.Noanger.Norage.
Sheislying.
The Royal Court is devoid of color. Just white walls and black columns,marble and granite and crystal. It devours a rainbow crowd. Nobles floodthroughitsdoors,theirgownsandsuitsanduniformsdyedineveryglitteringshade.Thelastofthemhurry,scramblingtogetinsidebeforetheroyalbrideandherownparadebegintheirmarchacrossCaesarâsSquare.HundredsmoreSilverscrowdacrossthetiledexpanse,toocommontomeritaninvitationtothewedding itself.Theywait indroves,oneithersideofaclearedpathwaylined by an even distribution of Nortan and Lakelander guards. Cameraswatchtoo,elevatedonplatforms.Andthekingdomwatcheswiththem.
Frommyvantagepoint,sandwichedintheWhitefireentrance,IcanjustseeoverIrisâsshoulder.
Shekeepsquiet,notahairoutofplace.Sereneasstillwater.Idonâtknowhow she can stand it. Her royal father has her arm, his cobalt-blue robeselectric against thewhite sleeve of herwedding gown. Today his crown issilverandsapphire,matchinghers.Theydonotspeaktoeachother,focused
onthepathahead.
Hertrainfeelslikeliquidinmyhands.Silksofineitmightslipthroughmyfingers.Ikeepagoodgrip,ifonlytoavoiddrawingmoreattentionthanIneedto.Foronce,IâmgladtohaveEvangelineatmyside.SheholdstheothercornerofIrisâs train.Judgingby thewhispersof theother ladies-in-waiting,thesightisanearscandal.Theyfocusonherinsteadofme.Noonebotherstobaitthelightninggirlwithouthersparks.Evangelinetakesitallinstride,jawsetandshut.Shehasnâtspokentomeatall.Anothersmallblessing.
Somewhere, a horn blows.And the crowd responds, turning toward thepalaceinunison,aseaofeyes.Ifeeleachlookaswestepforward,ontothelanding,down the stairs, into the jawsofaSilver spectacle.The last time Isaw a crowd here, I was kneeling and collared, bloody and bruised andheartbroken.Iamstillall thosethings.Myfingerstremble.Guardspressin,whileKittenandClover stickbehindme in simplebut suitablegowns.Thecrowdpushescloser,andEvangeline issonearshecouldknifemebetweenthe ribs without blinking.My lungs feel tight;my chest constricts andmythroatseemstoclose.Iswallowhardandforceoutalongbreath.Calmdown.Ifocusonthedressinmyhands,theinchesinfrontofme.
IthinkIfeeladropofwaterhitmycheek.Iprayitâsrainandnotnervoustears.
âPullyourselftogether,Barrow,âavoicehisses.ItcouldbeEvangelineâs.AswithMaven,Ifeelasickburstofgratitudeforthemeagersupport.Itrytopush it away. I try to reasonwithmyself. But like a dog starved, Iâll takewhateverscrapsIâmgiven.Whateverpassesforkindnessinthislonelycage.
Myvision spirals. If not formy feet,mydear, quick, sure feet, Imightstumble.Each step comes harder than the last. Panic spikes upmy spine. IdrownmyselfinthewhiteofIrisâsdress.Ievencountheartbeats.Anythingtokeepmoving.Idonâtknowwhy,butthisweddingfeelsliketheclosingofathousanddoors.Mavenhasdoubledhis strength and tightenedhis grip. Iâllneverescapehim.Notafterthis.
Thestonebeneathmechanges.Smooth,squaretilesbecomesteps.Ibumpon the firstbut rightmyself,holdingup the train.Doing theonly thing Iâmstillabletodo.Standtotheside,kneel,shrivelaway,turnbitterandhungryintheshadows.Isthistherestofmylife?
Before I enter the maw of the Royal Court too, I glance up. Past thesculptures of fire and stars and swords and ancient kings, past the crystalreachesof theglitteringdome.To the sky.Cloudsgather in thedistance.A
few have already reached the square, moving steadily in the wind. Theydissipateslowly,unravelingintowispsofnothing.Rainwants togather,butsomething, probably Silver storms, controlling the weather wonât let it.Nothingwillbeallowedtoruinthisday.
And then the sky disappears, replaced by a vaulted ceiling. Smoothlimestonearchesoverhead,bandedwith silver spiralsof forged flame.Red-and-blackbannersofNortaandbluebannersoftheLakelandsdecorateeithersideoftheantechamber,asifanyonecouldforgetthekingdomswhoseunionweâre about to witness. The murmurs of a thousand onlookers sound likehummingbees,increasingwitheverystepforwardItake.Ahead,thepassagewidens into the central chamber of theRoyalCourt, amagnificent circularhall beneath the crystal dome. The sun climbs across the clear panes,illuminating the spectacle below. Every seat is full, ringed out from themiddle of the chamber in a halo of flashing color. The crowd waits,breathless.IcanâtseeMavenyet,butIcanguesswherehewillbe.
Anyoneelsewouldhesitate,evenalittle.Irisdoesnot.Sheneverbreakspace as we cross into the light. A thousand bodies standing up is almostdeafening,andthenoiseechoesaroundthechamber.Rustlingclothes,shiftingmovement,whispers.Istayfocusedonmybreathing.Myheartracesanyway.Iwant to lookup,note theentrances, thebranchingpassages, thepiecesofthis place I can use. But I can barelywalk, let alone plan another ill-fatedescape.
Itfeelslikeyearspassbeforewereachthecenter.Mavenwaits,hiscapejustasopulentasIrisâstrainandnearlyaslong.Hecutsanimpressivefigureinflashingredandwhiteinsteadofblack.Thecrownisnewlymade,wroughtofsilverandrubiesworkedintoflame.Itgleamswhenhemoves,turninghisheadtofacehisapproachingbrideandherentourage.Hiseyesfindmefirst.Iknow himwell enough to recognize regret. It flickers, alive for amoment,dancinglikethewickofalitcandle.And,justaseasily,itdisappears,trailingamemory like smoke. Ihatehim,especiallybecause I canât fight thenow-familiarsurgeofpityfortheshadowoftheflame.Monstersaremade.SowasMaven.Whoknowswhohewassupposedtobe?
Theceremonytakesthebetterpartofanhour,andIhavetostandthroughallofitalongsideEvangelineandtherestofthebridalparade.MavenandIristradewordsbackandforth,oathsandpledgesurgedonbyaNortanjudge.Awomaninplainindigorobesspeaksaswell.FromtheLakelands,Iassumeâmaybeanenvoyoftheirgods?Ihardlylisten.AllIcanthinkaboutisanarmyinredandblue,marchingacross theworld.Cloudscontinue toroll in,each
one darker than the last as they pass the dome overhead. And each onedisintegrates.Thestormwantstobreak,butitjustcanâtseemto.
Iknowthefeeling.
âFrom this dayuntilmy last day, I pledgemyself to you, Iris ofHouseCygnet,princessoftheLakelands.â
In front of me,Maven holds out his hand. Fire licks at the tips of hisfingers,gentleandweakascandleflame.IcouldblowitoutifItried.
âFromthisdayuntilmylastday,Ipledgemyselftoyou,MavenofHouseCalore,kingofNorta.â
Irismirrorshisaction,puttingoutherownhand.Herwhitesleeve,edgedinbrightblue, fallsbackgracefully, exposingmoreofher smootharmas itleaches moisture from the air. A sphere of clear, trembling water fills herpalm. When she joins hands with Maven, one ability destroys the otherwithout even the hiss of steam or smoke. A peaceful union is made, andsealedwithabrushoftheirlips.
Hedoesnâtkissherthewayhekissedme.Anyfirehemighthaveisfaraway.
IwishIweretoo.
Theapplauseshuddersinme,loudasathunderclap.Mostpeoplecheer.Idonât blame them.This is the last nail in the coffin of theLakelanderWar.Even though Reds died in the thousands, the millions, Silvers died too. Iwonâtbegrudgethemtheircelebrationsofpeace.
Another rumble sounds as many seats around the Royal Court shift,pushingbackalongstone.Iflinch,wonderingifweâreabouttobecrushedinatideofwell-wishers.Instead,Sentinelspressin.IclutchatIrisâstrainlikealifeline,lettingherswiftmotionspullmethroughtheheavingcrowdandbackoutintoCaesarâsSquare.
Ofcourse, thecrushofnoiseonly increases tenfold.Flagswave, cheerserupt,andsprinklesofpaperdriftdownonus.Idipmyhead,tryingtoblockitout. Instead,myears start to ring.The sounddoesnâtgoaway,nomatterhowmuchIshakemyhead.OneoftheArvenstakesmyelbow,herfingersdiggingintofleshasmoreandmorepeoplepressinaroundus.TheSentinelsshoutsomething,instructingthecrowdtostayback.Maventurnstolookoverhis shoulder, his face flushed gray in excitement or nerves or both. Theringingintensifies,andIhavetoletgoofIrisâstraintocovermyears.Itdoesnothing except slowme down, pulling me out of her circle of safety. She
carrieson,arminarmwithhernewhusband,withEvangelinetrailingthemboth.Thetideseparatesus.
Maven sees me stop and raises an eyebrow, his lips parting to ask aquestion.Hisstepsslow.
Thentheskyturnsblack.
Storm clouds bloom, dark and heavy, arcing over us like an infernoâssmoke.Lightningstreaksacross theclouds,bolts tingedwhiteandblueandgreen.Eachonejagged,vicious,destructive.Unnatural.
My heartbeat roars loud enough to drown out the crowd. But not thethunder.
Thesoundrattlesinmychest,socloseandsoexplosiveitshakestheair.Itasteitonmytongue.
IdonâtgettoseethenextthunderboltbeforeKittenandCloverthrowmeto theground,ourdressesbedamned.Theypinmyshoulders,digging intoachingmuscleswiththeirhandsandtheirability.Silencefloodsmybody,fastand strong enough to push the air from my lungs. I gasp, struggling tobreathe.Myfingersscrabbleover the tiledground, feeling for something tograb.IfIcouldbreathe,Iwouldlaugh.ThisisnotthefirsttimesomeonehasheldmedowninCaesarâsSquare.
Anotherclapofthunder,anotherflashofbluelight.TheresultingpushofArvensilencealmostmakesmevomitupmyguts.
âDonâtkillher,Janny.Donât!âClovergrowls.Janny.Kittenâsrealname.âItâllbeourheadsifshedies.â
âItâsnotme,âItrytochokeout.âItâsnotme.â
IfKitten andClover can hear, they donât show it. Their pressure neverlessens,anewconstantofpain.
Unable toscream,I forcemyheadup, lookingforsomeone tohelpme.LookingforMaven.Heâllstopthis.Ihatemyselfforthinkingit.
Legscrossmyvision,blackuniforms,civiliancolors,anddistant,fleeingred-orangerobes.TheSentinelskeepmoving,tightintheirformation.Likeatthebanquetthatendedinanearassassination,theyspringintowell-practicedaction,focusedontheironeandonlypurpose:defendtheking.Theychangedirectionquickly,herdingMavennottowardthepalace,buttotheTreasury.Tohistrain.Tohisescape.
Escapefromwhat?
Thefreakstormisnâtmine.Thelightningisnâtmine.
âFollow the king,â KittenâJannyâsnarls. She hoists me onto wobblylegs, and I almost fall again. The Arvens donât let me. Neither does thesuddenwallofuniformedofficers.Theysurroundmeindiamondformation,perfectforcuttingthroughthesurgingcrowd.TheArvenslessentheirpulsingability,ifonlytoallowmetowalk.
Wepushonasonewhilethelightningoverheadintensifies.Norainyet.And itâsnotnearlyhot enoughor aridenough fordry lightning.Strange. IfonlyIcouldfeelit.Useit.Drawthejaggedlinesoutoftheskyandobliterateeverysinglepersonaroundme.
The crowd is perplexed.Most look up; a few point. Some try to backawaybut find themselves hemmed in by one another. I glance between thefaces,lookingforanexplanation.Iseeonlyconfusionandfear.Ifthecrowdpanics, Iwonder ifeven theSecurityofficerscanstop themfromtramplingus.
Upahead,MavenâsSentinelswidenthegapbetweenus.Afewhavetakentotossingpeople.Astrongarmbodilyshovesamanbackseveralyards,whileatelkysweepsawaythreeorfourwithawaveofherhand.Thecrowdgivesthemawideberthafter that,clearing thespacearound the fleeingkingandnewqueen.Throughthetumult,Icatchhiseyesashelooksbacktosearchforme.Theyarewideandwildnow,vividlyblueevenfromsofaraway.Hislipsmove,shoutingsomethingIcanâthearoverthethunderandtherisingpanic.
âHurry!âCloverbarks,pushingmeonwardtowardthegap.
Ourguardsbecomeaggressive, their abilitiespresenting.A swift lungesbackandforth,pressingpeoplebackfromourpath.Heblursbetweenbodies,awhirlwind.Andthenhestopscold.
Thegunshotcatchestheswiftbetweentheeyes.Tooclosetododge,toofasttoescape.Hisheadsnapsbackinanarcofbloodandbrain.
Idonâtknowthewomanholdingthegun.Shehasbluehair,jaggedbluetattoosâand a bloody crimson scarf wrapped around herwrist. The crowdshuddersaroundher,shockedforaninstant,beforespringingintofull-blownchaos.
With one hand still aiming her pistol, the blue-hairedwoman raises theother.
Lightningripsoutofthesky.
ItcrashestowardthecircleofSentinels.Shehasdeadlyaim.
I tense, expecting an explosion. Instead, the blue-tinged lightning hits asuddenarcofshimmeringwater,runningacrosstheliquidbutnotthrough.Itveinsandflashes,almostblinding,butdisappearsinaninstant,leavingonlythe watery shield. Beneath it, Maven, Evangeline, and even the Sentinelscrouch,handsovertheirheads.OnlyIrisisleftstanding.
Thewater pools around her, curling and twisting like one of Larentiaâssnakes.Itgrowswitheverysecond,leachingsoquicklyItastetheairdryingon my tongue. Iris wastes no time, tearing off her veil. Dimly, I hope itdoesnâtrain.IdonâtwanttoknowwhatIriscandowithrain.
Lakelanderguardsfightthroughthecrowd,theirdarkblueformstryingtobreakthroughthefleeingcrowd.Securityofficersmeetthesameobstacleandget caught up, tangled in the mess. Silvers dart in every direction. Sometowardthecommotion,othersawayfromdanger.Iâmtornbetweenwantingtorunwith themandwanting to run toward theblue-hairedwoman.Mybrainbuzzesasadrenalinecourses throughme,fighting toothandnailagainst thesilence smothering my being. Lightning. She wields lightning. Sheâs anewblood.Likeme.Thethoughtalmostmakesmecrywithhappiness.Ifshedoesnâtgetoutofherefast,sheâllendupacorpse.
âRun!âItrytoscream.Itcomesoutawhisper.
âGet theking to safety!âEvangelineâsvoicecarriesas she jumps toherfeet. Her gown quickly shifts into armor, scaling across her skin in pearlyplates.âEvacuate!â
A few of the Sentinels comply, pulling Maven into their protectiveformation.His hand sparkswithweak flame. It sputters,matching his fear.Therestofhisdetaildrawgunsoftheirownorexplodeintotheirabilities.AbansheeSentinelopenshismouthtoscreambutdropstoaknee,gasping.Hetearsathis throat.Hecanâtbreathe.Butwhy,who?Hiscomradesdraghimbackashecontinuestochoke.
Another lightning bolt streaks overhead, this one too bright to look at.When I open my eyes again, the blue-haired woman is gone, lost in thecrowd.Somewhere,gunfirepepperstheair.
Gasping,Irealizenoteveryoneinthecrowdisrunningaway.Notallofthem are afraid, or even confused by the outburst of violence. Theymovedifferently,withpurpose,motive,amission.Blackpistolsgleam,flashingastheydigintoaguardâsbackorstomach.Knivesglintinthegrowingdark.Thescreamsoffearbecomescreamsofpain.Bodiesfall,slumpingagainstthetile
ofthesquare.
I remember the riots in Summerton.Reds hunted down and tortured.Amob turning on the weakest among them. It was disorganized, chaotic,without any order. This is the opposite.What looks like wild panic is thecarefulworkofafewdozenassassinsinacrowdofhundreds.Withagrin,Irealizetheyallhavesomethingincommon.Asthehysteriagrows,eachonedonsaredscarf.
TheScarletGuardishere.
Cal,Kilorn,Farley,Cameron,Bree,Tramy,theColonel.
Theyârehere.
WitheverythingIhave, IbuttmyheadbackandcrackmyskullagainstCloverâsnose.Shehowls,andsilverbloodspurtsdownherface.Inaninstanther grip onme breaks, leaving only Kitten. I drive an elbow into her gut,hoping to throwher off. She lets go ofmy shoulder, only towrap her armaroundmyneckandsqueeze.
Itwist,tryingtogetenoughroomtobendmyneckandbite.Nochance.She increases the pressure, threatening to crush my windpipe. My visionspots, and I feel myself being pulled backward. Away from the Treasury,Maven,hisSentinels.Throughthelethalcrowd.Itripbackwardaswereachthesteps.Ikickweakly,tryingtocatchontoanything.TheSecurityofficersdodgemypoor efforts.Somedrop to their knees, guns raised, covering theretreat. Clover looms over me, the bottom half of her face painted withmirroredblood.
âDoubleback throughWhitefire.Wehave tokeeporders,âshehissesatKitten.
Itrytoshoutforhelp,butIcanâtsummonairenoughtomakenoise.Anditwouldnâtbeanyuse.Somethinglouderthanthunderscreamsacrossthesky.Twosomethings.Three.Six.Metalbirdswithrazorwings.Snapdragons?TheBlackrun? But these airjets look different from the ones I know. Sleeker,faster.Mavenâsnewfleet,probably.Inthedistance,anexplosionbloomswithpetalsofredfireandblacksmoke.Aretheybombingthesquare,orbombingtheScarletGuard?
AstheArvensdragmeintothepalace,anotherSilveralmostcollideswithus.Ireachout.Maybethispersonwillhelp.
SamsonMerandussneersdown,wrenchingonearmoutofmygrip.Ipullback like his touch burns. Just the sight of him is enough to bring on a
splitting headache. He wasnât allowed to attend the wedding, but heâs stilldressedforit,immaculateinanavysuitwithhisash-blondhairslickedtohisskull.
âLoseherandIâllturnyouallinsideout!âhesnarlsoverhisshoulder.
TheArvens lookmore frightenedofhim thanofanyoneelse.Theynodvigorously, as do the three remaining officers. All of them know what aMeranduswhispercando.IfIneededanymoreincentivetoescape,knowingthatSamsonwillobliteratetheirmindsiscertainlyit.
Inmylastglimpseof thesquare,blackshadowsloomoutof theclouds,coming closer and closer.More airships. But these are heavy, swollen, notbuiltforspeedorevencombat.Maybetheyârecomingintoland.Ineverseethemtouchdown.
IfightasmuchasIcan,whichistosayImumbleandsquirmundertheweightofsilence.Itslowsmyguardsdown,butonlyalittle.Everyinchfeelshardwonbutfutile.Wekeepmoving.ThehallsofWhitefirespiraloutaroundus.Withmymemorization,Iknowexactlywhereweareheaded.Towardtheeast wing, the closest part of the palace to the Treasury. There must bepassages to it, anotherway toMavenâs forsaken train.Any hope of escapewilldisappearthesecondtheygetmeunderground.
Three gunshots ring out, echoing so close I feel them in my chest.Whateverâshappeninginthesquareisslowlybleedingintothepalace.Inthewindow,redflameburstsintotheair.Fromanexplosionoraperson,Idonâtknow. Icanonlyhope.Cal. Iâm inhere.Cal. I picture him just outside, aninfernoof rageanddestruction.Gun inonehand, fire in theother,bringingdownallhispainandfury.Ifhecanâtsaveme,Ihopehecanatleastripapartthemonsterthatusedtobehisbrother.
âTherebelsarestormingWhitefire!â
I joltat thesoundofEvangelineSamos.Herbootsringhardagainst themarblefloor,eachsteptheblowofanangryhammer.Silverbloodstainstheleftsideofherface,andherelaboratehairisamess,tangledandwindblown.Shesmellslikesmoke.
Herbrotherisnowheretobefound,butsheisnâtalone.Wren,theSkonosskinhealerwhospentsomanydaystryingtomakemelookalive,trailsherclosely. Probably dragged along to make sure Evangeline doesnât have tosufferscratchesformorethananinstant.
Like Cal and Maven, Evangeline is no stranger to military training or
protocol. She stays on her toes, ready to react. âThe lower library and oldgalleryareoverrun.Wehaveto takeher thisway.âShepointsherchin toabranching hall perpendicular to ours. Outside, lightning flashes. It reflectsagainstherarmor.âYouthreeââshesnapsherfingersat threeof theguardsââdefendourbacks.â
Myheartsinksinmychest.EvangelinewillpersonallymakesureIgetonthattrain.
âIâmgoingtokillyouoneday,âIcurseatheraroundKittenâsgrip.
She lets the threatglanceoff, toobusybarkingorders.Theguardsobeyeagerly,droppingbacktocoverourretreat.Theyârehappytohavesomeonetakechargeinthisinfernalmess.
âWhatâs happening out there?â Clover growls as we hurry along. Fearcorrupts her voice. âYou, reset my nose,â she adds, grabbingWren by thearm.TheSkonosskinhealerworksonthefly,poppingCloverâsbrokennosebackintoplacewithanaudiblecrack.
Evangeline looks over her shoulder, not at Clover but at the passagebehindus.Itdarkensasthestormoutsideturnsdaytonight.Fearcrossesherface. An unfamiliar thing to see in her. âThere were plants in the crowd,disguisedasSilvernobles.Newbloods,wethink.StrongenoughtoholdtheirownuntilâŠâShechecksaroundacornerbeforewavinguson.âTheScarletGuardtookoverCorvium,butIdidnâtthinktheyhadthismanypeople.Truesoldiers,trained,wellarmed.Droppedrightoutoftheskylikedamninsects.â
âHow did they get in? Weâre under full security protocols for thewedding. Over a thousand Silver troops, plus Mavenâs newblood petsââKitten blusters. She cuts herself off as two figures in white pop out of adoorway.Theweightoftheirsilenceslamsintome,makingmykneesbuckle.âCaz,Brecker,withus!â
IthinkEggandTrioarebetternames.Theyskidacrossthemarblefloor,sprintingtojoinmymovingprison.IfIhadtheenergy,Iwouldweep.FourArvensandEvangeline.Anywhisperofhopedisappears.Itwonâtevenhelptobeg.
âTheycanâtwin.Itâsalostcause,âCloverpresseson.
âTheyâre not here towin the capital. Theyâre here for her,â Evangelinesnaps.
Eggshovesmeonward.âWasteofeffortforthissackofbones.â
Weroundanothercorner,tothelong,stretchingBattleHall.Comparedtotheturmoilinthesquare,itseemsserene,itspaintedscenesofwarfarawayfromthechaos.Theytower,dwarfingallofusintheiroldgrandeur.Ifnotforthe distant sound of screaming airjets and concussive thunder, I could trickmyselfintobelievingallthatwasadream.
âIndeed,â Evangeline says. Her steps falter so slightly the others donâtnotice.ButIdo.âWhatawasteofeffort.â
Shetwistswithsmooth,felinegrace,bothhandsdartingout.Iseeitallasiftimeitselfhasslowed.Theplatesofherarmorflyfrombothwrists,quickand deadly as bullets. Their edges gleam, sharpening to razors. They hissthroughair.Andflesh.
The sudden drop of silence feels like the lifting of immense weight.Cloverâsarmfallsfrommyneck,hergripslack.Shefallstoo.
Four heads tumble to the floor, leaking blood.The bodies follow, all inwhite,handsglovedinplastic.Theireyesareopen.Theyneverhadachance.Bloodâthesmell,thesightâassaultsmysenses,andItastebilerisinginmythroat.Theonlythingthatkeepsmefromretchingisthejaggedspikeoffearandrealization.
Evangeline isnât going to take me to the train. Sheâs going to kill me.Sheâsgoingtoendthis.
Shelooksshockinglycalmforhavingjustmurderedfourofherown.Theplates of metal return to her arms, sliding back into place. Wren the skinhealerdoesnâtmove,hereyesontheceiling.Shewonâtwatchwhatâsgoingtohappennext.
Itwillbenousetorun.Imightaswellfaceit.
âGet inmywayand Iâllkillyouslowly,â shewhispers, steppingoveracorpsetograbmebytheneck.Herbreathwashesoverme.Warm,tingedwithmint.âLittlelightninggirl.â
âThengetitoverwith,âIforcethroughmyteeth.
At this range, I realizeher eyes arenotblackbut charcoalgray.Storm-cloudeyes.Theynarrowasshetriestodecidehowtokillme.Itwillhavetobebyhand.Mymanacleswonâtletherabilitiestouchmyskin.Butasingleknife will do the trick just fine. I hope itâs quick, though I doubt she hasenoughmercyforsuchathing.
âWren,ifyouplease,âEvangelinesays,puttingoutherhand.
Insteadof adagger, the skinhealerpulls akey fromapocketonTrioâsnowheadlesscorpse.ShepressesitintoEvangelineâspalm.
Igonumb.
âYouknowwhat this is.âHowcould Inot? Ihavedreamedof thatkey.âIâmgoingtomakeyouabargain.â
âMakeit,âIwhisper,myeyesneverwaveringfromthespikybitofblackiron.âIâllgiveyouanything.â
Evangelinegrabsmyjaw,forcingmetolookather.Iâveneverseenhersodesperate,noteveninthearena.Hereyeswaverandherlowerliptrembles.âYoulostyourbrother.Donâttakemine.â
Rage flares inmystomach.Anythingbut that.Because IâvedreamedofPtolemus too. Slitting his throat, cutting him apart, electrocuting him. HekilledShade.Alifeforalife.Abrotherforabrother.
Her fingers dig intomy skin, nails threatening to pierce flesh. âYou lieand Iâll kill you where you stand. Then Iâll kill the rest of your family.âSomewhereinthetwistinghallsofthepalace,theechoesofbattlerise.âMareBarrow,makeyourchoice.LetPtolemuslive.â
âHeâlllive,âIcroakout.
âSwearit.â
âIswearit.â
Tearsgatherasshemoves,quicklyslidingoffonemanacleaftertheother.Evangelinetosseseachoneasfarasshecan.Bythetimeshefinishes,Iâmaweepingmess.
Withoutthemanacles,theSilentStone,theworldfeelsempty.Weightless.IâmafraidImightfloataway.Still,theweaknessisalmostdebilitating,worsethanmylastescapeattempt.Sixmonthsofitwillnotdisappearinaninstant.Itry to reachwithmyability, try to feel the lightbulbsabovemyhead. Icanbarelysensethebuzzofthem.IdoubtIcouldevenshutthemoff,somethingIusedtotakeforgranted.
âThankyou,âIwhisper.WordsIneverthoughtIwouldsaytoher.Theyunsettleusboth.
âYouwant to thankme,Barrow?âshemutters,kickingaway the lastofmybindings.âThenkeepyourword.Andletthisfuckingplaceburn.â
BeforeIcantellherIâllbeofnouse,thatIâllneeddays,weeks,monthsto
recover, Wren puts her hands to my neck. I realize now why Evangelinedraggedaskinhealeralong.Notforherself.Forme.
Warmthbleedsdownmyspine, intomyveinsandbonesandmarrow.ItpoundsthroughmesocompletelyIalmostexpectthehealingtohurt.Idropto a knee, overtaken. The aches vanish. The trembling fingers, weak legs,sluggishpulseâevery last ghost ofSilentStone flees before the touchof ahealer.Myheadwillneverforgetwhathappenedtome,butmybodyquicklydoes.
Theelectricityrushesback,thunderingfromthedeepestpartofme.Everynerve shrieks to life. All down the hallway, the lightbulbs shatter on theirchandeliers.Thehiddencamerasexplodeintosparksandspittingwires.Wrenjumpsback,yelping.
Ilookdowntoseepurpleandwhite.Nakedelectricityjumpsbetweenmyfingers,hissingintheair.Thepushandpullisachinglyfamiliar.Myability,mystrength,mypowerhasreturned.
Evangelinetakesameasuredstepback.Hereyesreflectmysparks.Theyglow.
âKeepyourpromise,lightninggirl.â
Darknesswalkswithme.
EverylightsizzlesandblinksoutasIpass.Glassshatters,electricityspits.Theairbuzzeslikealivewire.Itcaressesmyopenpalms,andIshiveratthefeel of such power. I thought I had forgottenwhat thiswas like.But thatâsimpossible. I can forget almost everything else in this world, but not mylightning.NotwhoandwhatIam.
The manacles made it exhausting to walk.Without them weighing medown, I fly. Toward the smoke, the danger, to what could finally be mysalvationormyending. Idonâtcarewhich, so longas Iâmnotstuck in thishellish prison one second longer. My dress flutters in ruby tatters, rippedenoughtoletmerunasfastasIcan.Thesleevessmolder,burningwitheverynewburstofsparks.Idonâtholdmyselfbacknow.Thelightninggoeswhereitwants.Itexplodesthroughmewitheveryheartbeat.Thepurple-whiteboltsandsparksdancealongmyfingers,blazinginandoutofmypalms.Ishudderin pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so wonderful. I keep looking at theelectricity,enamoredwitheveryvein.Itâsbeensolong.Itâsbeensolong.
Thismust bewhat hunters feel like.Every corner I turn, I hope to findsomekindofprey.IruntheshortestrouteIknow,tearingthroughthecouncil
chamber,itsemptyseatshauntingmeasIsprintovertheNortanseal.IfIhadtime,Iwouldobliteratethesymbolbeneathmyfeet.TearupeveryinchoftheBurning Crown. But I have a real crown to kill. Because thatâs what Iâmgoingtodo.IfMavenisstillhere,ifthewretchedboyhasnâtgottenaway.Iâmgoingtowatchhislastbreathandknowhecanneverholdmyleashagain.
TheSecurityofficersretreatinmydirection,theirbackstome.Stilldoingas Evangeline commanded. All three have their long guns tucked into thecrooksoftheirshoulders,fingersontriggersastheycoverthepassageway.Idonâtknowtheirnames,justtheircolors.HouseGreco,strongarmsall.Theydonâtneedbulletstokillme.Oneofthemcouldbreakmyback,crushmyribcage,popmyskulllikeagrape.Itâsmeorthem.
Thefirsthearsmyfootsteps.Heturnshischin,lookingoverhisshoulder.My lightning shrieks up his spine and into his brain. I feel his branchingnerves for a split second. Then darkness. The other two react, swingingaroundtofaceme.Thelightningisquickerthantheyare,splittingthemboth.
Ineverbreakpace,vaultingovertheirsmokingbodies.
The next hall runs alongside the square, its once-gleaming windowsstreakedwithash.Afewchandeliersliesmashedagainstthefloorintwistedheapsofgoldandglass.Therearebodiestoo.Securityofficersintheirblackuniforms,ScarletGuardwiththeirredscarves.Theaftermathofaskirmish,oneofmanyragingwithinthelargerbattle.IchecktheclosestGuardsmantome,reachingdowntofeelherneck.Nopulse.Hereyesareclosed.IâmgladIdonâtrecognizeher.
Outside,anotherburstofbluelightningforksthroughtheclouds.Icanâthelpbutgrin,thecornersofmymouthpullingsharplyonmyscars.Anothernewbloodwhocancontrollightning.Iâmnotalone.
Movingquickly,ItakewhatIcanoffthebodies.Apistolandammunitionfromanofficer.Aredscarffromthewoman.Shediedforme.Anothertime,Mare, I chidemyself, pushing aside the quicksand of such thoughts.Usingmyteeth,Itiethescarftomywrist.
Bulletspingagainst thewindows,a sprayof them. I flinch,dropping tothe floor, but the windows hold firm. Diamondglass. Bulletproof. Iâm safebehindthem,butalsotrapped.
Neveragain.
I slideupagainst thewall, tryingnot tobe seenas Iobserve.Thesightmakesmegasp.
Whatwasonceaweddingcelebrationisnowall-outwar.Iwasinaweofthe house rebellion, Iral and Haven and Laris against the rest of Mavenâscourt,butthisdwarfsitsubstantially.HundredsofNortanofficers,Lakelanderguards,deadlynoblesofthecourtononeside,withScarletGuardsoldiersontheother.Therehave tobenewbloodsamong them.SomanyRedsoldiers,morethanIeverthoughtpossible.TheyoutnumbertheSilversatleastfivetoone, and they are certainly, clearly soldiers. Trained to military precision,fromtheirtacticalgeartothewaytheymove.Istarttowonderhowtheyevengothere, but then I see the airships.Sixof them, all landeddirectlyon theSquare itself.Eachonespitssoldiers,dozensof them.Hopeandexcitementroarthroughme.
âHellofarescue,âIcanâthelpbutwhisper.
AndIâmgoingtomakesureitsucceeds.
IâmnotSilver;Idonâtneedtopullmyabilityfrommysurroundings.Butit certainly doesnât hurt to have more electricity, more power, on hand.Closingmyeyes, just for a second, I call to everywire, everypulse, everycharge,downtothestaticclingofthecurtains.Itrisesatmydemand.Itfuelsme,healsmeasmuchasWren.
Aftersixmonthsofdarkness,Ifinallyfeelthelight.
Purple-whiteflaresattheedgesofmyvision.Myentirebodybuzzes,skinshivering beneath the delight of lightning. I keep sprinting.Adrenaline andelectricity.IfeellikeIcouldrunthroughawall.
More than a dozen Security officers guard the entrance hall. One, amagnetron, busies himself boarding up the windows with cages of twistedchandelierandgiltpaneling.Bodiesandbloodinbothcolorscoverthefloor.The smellofgunpowderoverwhelmseverythingbut theblastsoutside.Theofficerssecurethepalace,maintainingtheirposition.Theirattentionisonthebattleoutside,theSquare.Nottheirbacks.
Crouching, I putmy hands to themarble beneathmy feet. It feels coldbeneathmyfingers.Iwillmylightningagainstthestone,sendingitoutalongthefloorinajaggedrippleofelectricity.Itpulses,awave,catchingthemalloffguard.Somefall,somerocketbackward.Thestrengthoftheblastechoesinmychest.Ifitâsenoughtokill,Idonâtknow.
MyonlythoughtistheSquare.Whentheopenairhitsmylungs,Ialmostlaugh.Itâspoisonedwithash,blood,theelectricbuzzofthelightningstorm,butit tastessweeterthananything.Aboveme,theblackcloudsrumble.Thesoundlivesinmybones.
I streak purple-white bolts across the sky. A sign. The lightning girl isfree.
I donât linger.Standingon the steps, overlooking the turmoil, is a goodwaytogetshotinthehead.Iplungeintothefray,lookingforasinglefamiliarface.Notfriendly,butatleastfamiliar.Peoplecollideallaroundmewithnorhyme or reason. The Silverswere taken unawares, unable to form up intotheir practiced ranks. Only the Scarlet Guard soldiers have any kind oforganization,butitâsrapidlybreakingdown.IweavetowardtheTreasury,thelastplaceIsawMavenandhisSentinel.Itwasonlyafewminutesago.Theycouldstillbethere,surrounded,makingastand.Iwillkillhim.Ihaveto.
Bulletswhistlepastmyhead.Iâmshorterthanmost,butstill,IhunchasIrun.
ThefirstSilvertochallengemehead-onhasProvosrobes,goldandblack.A thinmanwith thinnerhair.He throwsoutanarmandI rocketbackward,my head slamming against the tiled ground. I grin at him, about to laugh.When suddenly I canât breathe. My chest contracts, tightening. My ribs. Ilookuptofindhimstandingoverme,hishandclenchingintoafist.Thetelkyisgoingtocollapsemyribcage.
Lightning rises tomeet him, sparking angrily. He dodges, faster than Ianticipated.My vision spots as the lack of oxygen hits my brain. Anotherbolt,anotherdodge.
Provos is so focused on me, he doesnât notice the barrel-chested Redsoldier a few yards away. He shoots him through the headwith an armor-piercinground.Itisnâtpretty.Silverspattersacrossmyruinedgown.
âMare!â he shouts, hurrying tomy side. I recognize his voice, his darkbrown faceâand his electric-blue eyes. Four other Guardsmen move withhim.Theycircleup,protective.Withstronghands,hehoistsmetomyfeet.
Forcingabreath,Ishiver inrelief.Whenmybrotherâssmugglingfriendbecameatruesoldier,Idonâtknow,andnowisnâtthetimetoask.âCrance.â
Onehandstillonhisgun,heraisestheradioclawedinhisotherfist.âThisisCrance. IhaveBarrowin theSquare.âThehissofemptyfeedback isnotpromising.âRepeat.IhaveBarrow.âCursing,hetuckstheradiobackintohisbelt.âChannelsareamess.Toomuchinterference.â
âFrom the storm?â I glance up again. Blue, white, green. I narrowmyeyesandthrowanotherboltofpurpleintothecrashofblindingcolor.
âProbably.Calwarnedusââ
Airhissesthroughmyteeth.Igrabhimtightly,makinghimflinch.âCal.Whereishe?â
âIhavetogetyououtââ
âWhere?â
Hesighs,knowingIwonâtaskagain.
âHeâsontheground.Idonâtknowwhereexactly!Yourrendezvouspointis themaingate,âhe shouts inmyear,making surehecanbeheard. âFiveminutes.Grabthewomaningreen.Takethis,âheadds,shruggingoutofhisheavy jacket. I pull it over my tattered dress without argument. It feelsweighted.âFlakjacket.Semibulletproof.Itâllgiveyousomecover.â
MyfeetcarrymeawaybeforeIcanevensaythankyou,leavingCranceandhisdetail inmywake.Cal isheresomewhere.HeâllbehuntingMaven,just like me. The crowd surges, a swiftly changing tide. If not for theGuardsmen pushing through the fray, I could forcemyway through. Blasteveryoneinfrontofme,clearapathacrosstheSquare.InsteadIrelyonmyold instincts. Dancing steps, agility, predicting every pulsing wave of thechaos. Lightning trails in my wake, staving off any hands. A strongarmknocksmesideways,sendingmecareeningthrougharmsandlegs,butIdonâtreturn to fight him. I keepmoving, keep pushing, keep running.One namescreamsthroughmyhead.Cal.Cal.Cal.IfIcangettohim,Iâllbesafe.Aliemaybe,butagoodlie.
ThesmellofsmokegetsstrongerasIpushon.Hopeflares.Wherethereâssmoke,thereâsafireprince.
AshandsootstreakthewhitewallsoftheTreasuryHall.Oneoftheairjetmissilestookachunkoutofthecorner,slicingthroughmarblelikebutter.Itliesinapileofrubblearoundtheentrance,forminggoodcover.TheSentinelsmakefulluseofit,theirranksbolsteredbytheLakelandersandafewofthepurple-uniformed Treasury guards. Some of them fire into the oncomingGuardsmen,usingbulletstodefendtheirkingâsescape,andmanymoreutilizetheirabilities.Idartaroundafewbodiesfrozensolidontheirfeet,theviolentworkofaGliaconshiver.Anotherfewarealivebutontheirknees,bleedingfromtheears.Marinosbanshee.TheevidenceofsomanydeadlySilversisallaround. Corpses speared by metal, necks broken, skulls caved in, mouthsdrippingwater, a particularlygruesomebody that seems tohave chokedontheplantsgrowingoutofitsmouth.AsIwatch,agreenythrowsahandfulofseedsatanattackingswathofScarletGuard.Beforemyeyes,theseedsburstlikegrenades,spittingvinesandthornsinaverdantexplosion.
IdonâtseeCalhere,oranyotherfacesIrecognize.MavenisalreadyintheTreasury,headedforthetrain.
Clenchinga fist, I throweverything Icanat theSentinels.My lightningcrackles along the rubble, sending them scurrying back. Dimly, I hearsomeoneshouttopushforward.TheGuardsmendo,continuingtofireroundafterround.Ikeepupthepressure,sendinganotherblazeoflightningacrossthemlikeacrackingwhip.
âIncoming!âavoicescreams.
Ilookup,expectingablowfromthesky.Airjetsdancethroughthestormyclouds,chasingoneanother.Noneofthemseemconcernedbyus.
Then someone pushesme aside, throwingme out of theway. I turn intime to see a person I recognize barrel along a cleared pathway, his headlowered,bodyarmoredonthehead,neck,andshoulders.Hepicksupspeed,legspumping.
âDarmian!â
He doesnât hear me, too busy crashing toward the marble blockade.Bullets ping off his armor and skin.A shiver sends a blast of icicles at hischest,but theyshatter. Ifheâsafraid,hedoesnâtshowit.Heneverhesitates.Cal taught him that. Back at the Notch. When we were all together. Iremember a different Darmian then, the one I knew. He was a quiet mancompared toNix, another newbloodwho shared his ability of impenetrableflesh. Nix is long dead now, but Darmian is verymuch alive. Roaring, heclambersoverthemarbleblockade,careeningintotwoSentinels.
Theyfallonhimwitheverythingtheyhave.Stupid.Theymightaswellbeshooting at bulletproof glass.Darmian responds in kind, dropping grenadeswithcoldrhythm.Theybloominfireandsmoke.Sentinelsfallbackward,fewofthemabletowithstandadirectexplosion.
Guardsmen vault over the rubble, following in Darmianâs wake. Manyovertakehim.TheSentinelsarenottheirmission.Mavenis.TheyfloodintotheTreasury,hotonthekingâstrail.
AsIrunforward,I letmyabilitypressonahead.I feel the lightsof theTreasuryâs main hall, spiraling down into the rock beneath us. My sensejumps along the wires, deeper and deeper. Something big idles below, itsenginearisingpurr.Heâsstillhere.
Themarblebeneathmyfeetiseasytoscale.Iscrabbleovertherubbleonall fours, my mind focused a hundred feet down. The next grenade blast
catchesmeunawares.Itsforceblowsmebackwardinawaveofheat.Ilandhard,flatonmyback,gaspingforbreath,quietlythankfulforCranceâsjacket.Theexplosionblazesoverme,closeenoughtoburnmycheek.
Toobigforagrenade.Toocontrolledfornaturalflame.
Iscrambletomyfeet,forcingmylegstoobeyasIsuckdownair.Maven.I should have known. He wouldnât leave me up here. Wouldnât run awaywithouthisfavoritepet.Heâscometoputthechainsbackonmehimself.
Goodluck.
Smokefollowstheswirlingfire,makingthealreadydarkSquarehazy.Itsurrounds me, growing stronger and hotter with every passing second.Tensing, I send lightning through my nerves, letting it crackle over everyinch. I take a step toward his silhouette, black and strange in the shiftingfirelight.Thesmokecurls,thefireshootingwithraginghotblueflame.Sweatdripsdownmyneck.My fists clench, ready to runhim throughwith everydropofragecollectedinhisprison.Iâvebeenwaitingforthismoment.Mavenisacunningking,butnofighter.Iâmgoingtoriphimapart.
Lighting ripples over our heads, flashing brighter than the flame. Itilluminateshimasthewindpicksup,blowingawaythesmoketorevealâ
Red-gold eyes. Broad shoulders. Callused hands, familiar lips, unrulyblackhair,andafaceIhaveachedfor.
NotMaven.Allthoughtsoftheboykingdisappearinaninstant.
âCal!â
The fireball hisses through the air, almost engulfing my head. I rollbeneath it on instinct alone. Confusion rules my brain. Heâs unmistakable.Cal,standingthereintacticalarmor,aredsashtiedacrosshimfromwaisttohip.Ifighttheanimalneedtoruntowardhim.Ittakeseveryfiberofcontroltostepback.
âCal,itâsme!ItâsMare!â
Hedoesnâtspeak,justpivotsonhisfeet,keepingmeinfrontofhim.Thefirearounduschurnsandcontracts,pullinginwardwithblindingspeed.Theheatcrushestheairfrommylungs,andIchokedownsmoke.Onlylightningkeepsmesafe,cracklingaroundmeinashieldofelectricitytokeepmefromburningalive.
I roll again, bursting through his inferno. My dress smolders, trailingsmoke.Idonâtwasteprecioustimeorbrainpowertryingtofigureoutwhatâs
goingon.Ialreadyknow.
Hiseyesareshadowed,unfocused.Norecognitioninthem.Noindicationthatweâvespentthelastsixmonthstryingtogetbacktoeachother.Andhismovementsarerobotic,evencomparedtohismilitary-trainedprecision.
Awhisperhashismind.Idonâthavetoguesswhichone.
âIâmsorry,âImumble,eventhoughhecanâthearme.
Ablastoflightningthrowshimback,thesparksdancingovertheplatesofhisarmor.Heseizes,twitchingastheelectricitypullsonhisnerves.Ibitemylip, trying harder than I ever have before towalk the narrow line betweenincapacitationandinjury.Ierrontheweakside.Amistake.
Cal is stronger than I ever realized.Andhehas suchan advantage. Iâmtryingtosavehim.Heâstryingtokillme.
He fights through the pain, charging. I dodge, my focus shifting fromkeepinghimatbay tokeepingoutofhiscrushinggrip.Afire-fueledpuncharcsovermyhead. I smellburnedhair.Another catchesme in the stomachand I fall backward. I roll with the momentum and pop up again, my oldtricks returning. With a twist of my hand, I send another bolt of sparksdancinguphislegandintohisspine.Hehowls.Thesoundcutsmyinsides.Butitgivesmeaheadstart.
My focus narrows to one thing, one personâs devilish face. SamsonMerandus.
HehastobecloseenoughtobewitchCalandsendhimafterme.IsearchthebattleasIrun,lookingforhisbluesuit.Ifheâshere,heâshidingwell.Orhecouldbeperchedabove,lookingdownfromtheTreasuryrooforthemanywindowsoftheadjoiningbuildings.Frustrationeatsatmyresolve.Calâsrighthere.Weârebacktogether.Andheâstryingtokillme.
Theheatofhis rage licksatmyheels.Anotherblast ripsalongmy left,sendingneedlesofwhite-hotagonydownmyarm.Adrenalinedrownsitoutquickly.Icanâtaffordpainrightnow.
AtleastIâmfaster thanheis.After themanacles,everystepfeelseasierthanthelast.Iletthestormabovefuelme,feedingontheelectricenergyofthe other lightning-wielding newblood somewhere. Her blue hair doesnâtcrossmyvisionagain.Toobad.Icoulduseherrightnow.
IfSamson ishidingnear theTreasury, Ionlyhave togetCaloutofhiscircle of influence. Skidding, I turn to look over my shoulder. Cal is still
followingme,ashadowofblue-tingedflameandanger.
âComeandgetme,Calore!âIshouttohim,sendingablastoflightningathischest.Strongerthanthelast,enoughtoleaveamark.
Hetwistssideways,dodging,neverbreakingstep.Hotonmytrail.
Ihopethisworks.
Noonedaresgetinourway.
Redandblueandpurple, fireandlightning,chase inourwake,splittingthebattlelikeaknife.Hepursueswiththesingularresolveofahuntingdog.AndIcertainlyfeelhuntedacrosstheSquare.
Iangleforthemaingate,towhateverrendezvousCrancementioned.Myescape.NotthatIâlltakeityet.NotwithoutCal.
Afterahundredyards,itâsclearthatSamsonisrunningwithus,justoutofsight.NoMeranduswhisper has a bigger range than that, not evenElara. Itwistbackandforth,scanningthebloodbath.Thelongerthebattlepusheson,themore time the Silvers have to organize.Army soldiers in clouded grayuniformsfloodtheSquare,systematicallywinningoverpiecesofit.Mostofthenobles retreatbehind thewallofmilitaryprotection, thougha fewâthestrongest, the bravest, the most bloodthirstyâcontinue fighting. I expectmembersofHouseSamostobeinthethickofit,butIseenomagnetronsthatI recognize. And still no other familiar members of the Scarlet Guard. NoFarley,noColonel,noKilornorCameronoranyofthenewbloodsIhelpedrecruit. Just Darmian, probably blasting his way through the Treasury, andCal,tryinghisbesttoputmeintheground.
I curse,wishing forCameron above all of them.She could silenceCal,keephimcontainedlongenoughformetofindanddestroySamson.Instead,Ihavetodoitmyself.Keephimatbay,keepmyselfalive,andsomehowrootouttheMeranduswhisperplaguingusboth.
Suddenlynavyblueblursbyattheedgeofmyvision.
Longmonths inSilver captivityhavemademeattuned tohouse colors.LadyBlonosdrilledherknowledgeintome,andnow,morethanever,Ithankherforit.
I whirl, changing direction with a vengeance. Ash-blond hair dartsthrough theSilver soldiers, attempting toblend into their ranks. Instead, hestands out, his formal suit in sharp contrast to their military uniforms.Everythingnarrowstohim.Allmyfocus,allmyenergy.IthrowwhatIcanin
his direction, loosing jagged lightning upon Samson and the Silver shieldbetweenus.
Hiseyeslockonmineandthelightningarcslikeacrackingwhip.HehasthesameeyesasElara,thesameeyesasMaven.Blueasice;blueasflame.Coldandunforgiving.
Somehowmy electricity bends, curving around him. It slingshots away,rocketinginanotherdirection.Myhandswingswithit,mybodymovingofitsownaccordas the lightning racesatCal. I try toshoutout, even thoughwarning a bewitchedman will do nothing at all. But my lips donât move.Horrorbleedsdownmyspine, theonlysensationIcanfeel.Not thegroundbeneathmyfeet,notthebiteofnewburns,noteventhesmokyairinmynose.Italldisappears,wipedaway.Taken.
Inside,IscreambecauseSamsonhasmenow.Icanâtmakeasound.Thereisnomistakingthejaggedbrushofhisbrainagainstmymind.
Calblinkslikesomeonewakingupfromalongsleep.Hebarelyhastimetoreact, liftinghisarmstoprotecthisheadfromtheelectricblow.Someofthejaggedsparksturntoflame,manipulatedbyhisability.Mostofthemhithome,though,droppinghimtohiskneeswithapainedroar.
âSamson!âhescreamsthroughgrittedteeth.
Irealizemyhandismoving,strayingtomyhip.ItdrawsthepistolItookandputssteeltomytemple.
Samsonâswhispersriseinmyhead, threateningtodrownouteverythingelse.
Doit.Doit.Doit.
Idonâtfeelthetrigger.Iwonâtfeelthebullet.
Calripsmyarmback,spinningmeaway.Hebreaksmygriponthegunandtossesitacrossthetile.Iâveneverseenhimsoafraid.
Killhim.Killhim.Killhim.
Mybodyobeys.
Iamaspectator inmyownhead.AfuriousbattleragesbeforemyeyesandIcanâtdoanythingbutwatch.ThetiledgroundblursasSamsonmakesmesprint,collidinghead-onwithCal.Iactasahumanlightningrod,latchingontohisarmor,drawingelectricityoutoftheskytopourintohim.
Painandfearcloudhiseyes.Hisflamecanonlyshieldsomuch.
Ilunge,grabbingathiswrist.Buttheflamemakerbraceletholdsfirm.
Killhim.Killhim.Killhim.
Fire pushes me back. I tumble end over end, shoulders and skullbouncing.Theworldspins,anddizzylimbstrytomakemestand.
Getup.Getup.Getup.
âStaydown,Mare!âIhearfromCalâsdirection.Hisfiguredancesbeforeme,splitting into three. Imighthaveaconcussion.Redbloodpulsesacrossthewhitetile.
Getup.Getup.Getup.
My feet move beneath me, pushing hard. I stand too quickly, nearlyfalling over again as Samson forces me into drunken steps. He closes thedistancebetweenmybodyandCalâs.Iâveseenthisbefore,athousandyearsago.SamsonMerandusinthearena,forcinganotherSilvertocutuphisowninsides.Heâlldothesametometoo,onceheusesmetokillCal.
Itrytofight,thoughIdonâtknowwheretostart.Trytotwitchafinger,atoe.Nothingresponds.
Killhim.Killhim.Killhim.
Lightning erupts from my hand, spiraling toward Cal. It misses, offbalance like my body. He sends an arc of fire in response, forcing me tododgeandstumble.
Getup.Killhim.Getup.
The whispers are sharp, cutting wounds across my mind. I must bebleedinginmybrain.
KILLHIM.GETUP.KILLHIM.
Through the flames, I seenavyblue again.Cal stalks afterSamsonandskidstoaknee,takingaimwithapistolofhisown.
GETUPâ
PaincrashesthroughmelikeawaveandIfallbackwardjustasabullettearsoverhead.Anotherfollows,closer.Onpureinstinct,fightingtheringinginmybruisedskull,Iscrambletomytoes.Imoveofmyownvolition.
Shrieking, I turnCalâs fire to lightning, the red curls becoming purple-whiteveinsofelectricity.ItshieldsmeasCalemptiesbulletafterbulletinmydirection.Behindhim,Samsongrins.
Bastard.Heâsgoingtoplayusoffeachotherforaslongasittakes.
IpushthelightningasfastasIcan,lettingitsplintertowardSamson.IfIcanbreakhisconcentration,justforasecond,itcouldbeenough.
Cal reacts,apuppetonstrings.HeshieldsSamsonwithhisbroadbody,takingthebruntofmyattack.
âSomeonehelp!âIshouttonoone.Weâreonlythreepeopleinabattleofhundreds. A battle turning one-sided. The Silver ranks grow, fed byreinforcements from the barracks and the rest of theArcheon garrison.Myfive minutes have long passed. Whatever escape Crance promised is longgone.
IhavetobreakSamson.Ihaveto.
Another bolt of lightning, this time across the ground in a flood. Nododgingthat.
KILLHIM.KILLHIM.KILLHIM.
Thewhispersreturn,pullingbacktheelectricitywithmyowntwohands.Itarcsbackwardinacrashingwave.
Caldropsandspins,throwingouthisleginasweepingkick.Itconnects,sendingSamsonsprawling.
HiscontrolofmedropsandIpushforward.Anotherelectricwave.
This one washes through them both. Cal curses, biting back a yelp.Samsonwrithesandscreams,ablood-curdlingsound.Heisnâtusedtopain.
Killhimâ
Thewhisperisfaraway,weakening.Icanfightit.
Cal grabs Samson by the neck, pulling him up only to smash his headbackdown.
Killhimâ
Isliceahandthroughtheair,pullinglightningwithit.ItsplitsagashinSamsonfromhiptoshoulder.ThewoundspurtsSilverblood.
Helpmeâ
Fire races down Samsonâs throat, charring his insides. His vocal cordsshred.TheonlyscreamingIhearnowisinmyhead.
Ibringmylightningintohisbrain.Electricityfriesthetissueinhisskull
likeanegginapan.Hiseyesrolloverwhite.Iwant tomakeit last longer,wanttomakehimpayforwhattorturehegavetomeandsomanyothers.Buthediestooquickly.
Thewhispersdisappear.
âItâsdone,âIgaspaloud.
Callooksup,stillkneelingoverthebody.Hiseyeswidenasifseeingmeforthefirsttime.Ifeelthesame.Iâvebeendreamingofthismoment,wantingit formonths andmonths. If not for the battle, for our precarious positionwedged in the middle, I would wrap my arms around his neck and burymyselfinthefireprince.
Instead,Ihelphimtohisfeet,throwingoneofhisarmsovermyshoulder.He limps, one leg amess ofmuscle spasms. Iâm hurt too, bleeding slowlyfromatearinmyside.Ipressmyfreehandtothewound.Thepainsharpens.
âMavenisbelowtheTreasury.Hehasatrain,âIsayasweclamberawaytogether.
His arm tightens around me. He steers us toward the main gate,quickeninghispacewitheverystep.âIâmnothereforMaven.â
Thegate looms,wide enough to allow three transports to drive throughsidebyside.Ontheotherside,theBridgeofArcheonspanstheCapitalRivertomeet the eastern half of the city. Smoke rises all over, reaching into thestorm-black sky. I fight theurge to turn aroundand sprint for theTreasury.Mavenwillbegonebynow.Heisbeyondmyreach.
More military transports speed toward us while airjets scream in ourdirection.Toomanyreinforcementstowithstand.
âWhatâs the plan, then?â Imumble.Weâre about to be surrounded.Thethoughtwearsthroughmyshockandadrenaline,soberingmeup.Allthisforme.Bodieseverywhere,RedandSilver.Whatawaste.
Calâshandsfindmyface,makingmeturntolookathim.Inspiteofthedestructionaroundus,hesmiles.
âForonce,wehaveone.â
Iseegreenoutofthecornerofmyeye.Feelanotherhandgrabmyarm.
Andtheworldsqueezestonothing.
NINETEENEvangeline
Heâs late, and my heartbeat guns into overdrive. I fight the surge of fear,twisting it into fuel.Using the new energy, I shred apart the gilded framesholding portraits all down the palace hallway.The flecks of gold leaf twistintobrutal,glintingshards.Goldisaweakmetal.Soft.Malleable.Uselessinatruefight.Iletthemdrop.Idonâthavethetimeorenergytowasteonweakthings.
The pearly rhodium plates along my arms and legs vibrate withadrenaline, theirmirror-bright edges rippling like liquidmercury. Ready tobecomewhateverIneedtostayalive.Asword,ashield,abullet.Iâmnotindirectdanger,notrightnow.ButifTollyisnâthereinoneminute,Iâmgoingoutthereafterhim,andthenIcertainlywillbe.
Shepromised,Itellmyself.
It sounds idiotic, thewishof aparticularly foolishchild. I shouldknowbetter. The only bond inmyworld is blood; the only promise is family.ASilverwouldsmileandagreewithanotherhouseandbreaktheiroathinthenextheartbeat.MareBarrowisnotSilverâsheshouldhave lesshonor thananyofus.Andsheowesmybrother,owesme,lessthannothing.Shewouldbe justified in slaughtering us all. House Samos has not been kind to thelightninggirl.
âWehaveaschedule,Evangeline,âWrenmuttersnexttome.Shecradlesonehandagainstherchest,doingherbestnottoantagonizeanalready-uglyburn. The skin healer wasnât fast enough to avoid all of Mareâs returningability.Butshegotthejobdone,andthatâsallthatmatters.Nowthelightninggirlisfreetowreakasmuchhavocasshecan.
âIâmgivinghimanotherminute.â
The hallway seems to stretch before me, growing longer with everysecond.Onthissideofthepalace,wecanbarelyhearthebattleintheSquare.Thewindowslookoutonastillcourtyard,withonlydarkstormcloudsabove.If I wanted to, I could pretend this was another day of my usual torment.Everyone smiling with their fangs, circling an increasingly lethal throne. I
thoughttheendofthequeenwouldmeantheendofdanger.Itâsnotlikemetounderestimateapersonâsevils,butIcertainlyunderestimatedMaven.Hehasmoreofhismother inhimthananyonerealized,aswellashisownkindofmonster.
AmonsterInolongerhavetosuffer, thankmycolors.Onceweârebackhome,IâllsendtheLakelanderprincessagiftfortakingmyplaceathisside.
Heâllbefarawaybynow,ferriedtosafetybyhistrain.Thenewbrideandgroom were already in the Treasury when I left them. Unless Mavenâsdisgusting obsession withMare won out. The boy is impossible to predictwheresheisinvolved.ForallIknow,hecouldhaveturnedaroundtofindher.Hecouldbedead.Icertainlyhopeheisdead.Itwouldmakethenextstepsinfinitelyeasier.
I know Mother and Father too well to worry about them. Woe to theperson,SilverorRed,whomightchallengemyfather inopencombat.AndMotherhasherowncontingencies inplace.Theattackon theweddingwasnotasurprisetoanyofus.HouseSamosisprepared.SolongasTollystickstotheplan.Mybrotherhasahardtimebackingdownfromafight,andheisimpulsive.Anothermanimpossibletopredict.Weârenotsupposedtohurttherebelsorimpedetheirprogressinanyway.Fatherâsorders.Ihopemybrotherfollowsthem.
Weâllbe fine. Iexhaleslowly,holdingon to those threewords.Theydolittletocalmmynerves.Iwanttoberidofthisplace.Iwanttogohome.Iwant to see Elane again. I want Tolly to strut around the corner, safe andwhole.
Instead,hecanbarelywalk.
âPtolemus!âIbark,forgettingeveryfearbutoneasheroundsthecorner.
His blood stands out sharply against black steel armor, silver spattereddown his chest like paint. I can taste the iron in it, a sharp tang ofmetal.Without thinking, I yank on his armor, pulling him through the airwith it.Beforehecancollapse,Ibracemytorsoagainsthis,keepinghimonhisfeet.Heâs almost too weak to stand, let alone run. Icy-cold terror trails fingersdownmyspine.
âYouâre late,â Iwhisper, earning a pained grin. Still alive enough for asenseofhumor.
Wrenworks swiftly, pulling off his plates of armor, but sheâs not fasterthan me. With another jerk of my hand, it falls from his body in a few
clattering echoes. My eyes fly to his bare chest, expecting to see an uglywound.Nothingtherebutafewshallowcuts,noneofthemseriousenoughtolevelsomeonelikePtolemus.
âBlood loss,âWren explains. The skin healer pushesmy brother to hisknees,holdinghisleftarmaloft,andhewhimpersfromthepainofit.Ikeepsteadyathisshoulder,crouchingwithhim.âIdonâthavetimetohealthis.â
This. I trailmygazealonghisarm,overwhiteskingrayandblackwithfreshbruises. It ends in abloody,blunt stump.Hishand isgone.Cut cleanthrough the wrist. Silver blood pulses sluggishly from the severed veins,despitehismeagerattemptstowrapthewound.
âYouhaveto,âPtolemusgrindsout,hisvoicehoarsewithagony.
Inodfervently.âWren,itâllonlytakeafewminutes.âNomagnetronisastrangertoalostfinger.Weâvebeenplayingwithknivessincewecouldwalk.Weknowhowquicklyadigitcanberegrown.
âIfheeverwantstousethathandagain,youâlldoasIsay,âshereplies.âItâs too complicated to do quickly. I have to seal thewound for now.âHemakesanotherstranglednoise,chokingonthethoughtandthepain.
âWren!âIplead.
Shedoesnâtbackdown.âFornow!âHerbeautifuleyes,graySkonoseyes,boreintominewithurgency.Iseefearinher,andnowonder.Afewminutesagoshewatchedmemurderfourguardsandfreeaprisonerofthecrown.SheisalsocomplicitinthetreasonofHouseSamos.
âFine.âIsqueezeTollyâsshoulder,imploringhimtolisten.âFornow.Thesecondweâreintheclear,sheâllfixyou.â
Hedoesnâtreply,onlynoddingasWrengetstowork.Tollyturnshishead,unabletowatchtheskingrowoverhiswrist,sealinguptheveinsandbones.Ithappensquickly.Blue-blackfingersdanceacrosshispalefleshassheknitshim together. Skin growth is easy, or so Iâm told.Nerves, bones, those aremorecomplex.
Idomybesttodistracthimfromthebluntendofhisarm.âSowhodidit?â
âAnother magnetron. Lakelander.â He forces out each word. âSaw mebreakingofftoleave.SlicedmebeforeIknewwhatwashappening.â
Lakelanders.Frozenfools.Allsternintheirhideousblue.TothinkMaventradedthemightofHouseSamosforthem.âIhopeyourepaidthefavor.â
âHenolongerhasahead.â
âThatâlldo.â
âThere,âWrensays,finishingupthewrist.Sherunsherhandsalonghisarmanddownhisspinetothesmallofhisback.âIâllstimulateyourmarrowand kidneys, raise your blood production asmuch as I can. Youâll still beweak,though.â
âThatâs fine.As longas Icanwalk.âHealreadysoundsstronger.âHelpmeup,Evie.â
I oblige, bracing his good arm over my shoulder. Heâs heavy, almostdeadweight.âEaseuponthedesserts,âIgrumble.âComeonnow,movewithme.â
Tollydoeswhathecan,forcingonefootaftertheother.Nowherenearfastenough for my taste. âVery well,â I mutter, reaching out to his discardedarmor.Itflattensandre-formsintoasheetofrippledsteel.âSorry,Tolly.â
I push him down onto it, using my ability to hold up the sheet like astretcher.
âIcanwalkâŠ,âheprotests,butweakly.âYouneedyourfocus.â
âThenfocusforbothofus,âIshootback.âMenareuselesswheninjured,arenâtthey?â
Keepinghimelevatedtakesacornerofmyability,butnotallofit.Isprintas fast as I can, one hand on the sheet. It follows on an invisible tether,flankedbyWrenontheotherside.
Metalsingsontheedgeofmyperception.Inoteeachpieceaswepresson, filing them away on instinct. Copper wiringâa garrote with which tostrangle.Doorlocksandhingesâdartsorbullets.Windowframesâironhiltswith glass daggers. Father used to quizme on such things, until it becamesecond nature. Until I couldnât enter a roomwithoutmarking its weapons.HouseSamosisnevercaughtoffguard.
Father devised our swift getaway from Archeon. Through the barracksand down the northern cliffs to boats waiting in the river. Steel boats,speciallymade,flutedforspeedandsilence.BetweenFatherandme,theyâllcutthroughthewaterlikeneedlesthroughflesh.
Weârebehind schedule, but onlyby a fewminutes. In the chaos, itwilltake hours before anyone in Mavenâs court realizes House Samos hasdisappeared. Idonâtdoubtotherhouseswill take the sameopportunity, like
ratsfleeingasinkingship.Mavenisnottheonlypersonwithanescapeplan.Infact,Iwouldnâtbesurprisedifeveryhousehasoneofitsown.Thecourtisapowderkegwithanincreasinglyshortfuseandaspitfireking.Youâdhavetobeanidiotnottoexpectanexplosion.
FatherfeltthewindsshiftthemomentMavenstoppedlisteningtohim,assoonasitbecameclearthatallyingtotheCalorekingwouldbeourdownfall.WithoutElara, no one could holdMavenâs leash.Not evenmy father.AndthentheScarletGuardrabblebecamemoreorganized,arealthreatratherthananinconvenience.Theyseemedtogrowwitheachpassingday.OperatinginPiedmontandtheLakelands,whispersofanalliancewithMontfortfartothewest.Theyâremuchlargerthananyoneanticipated,betterorganizedandmoredetermined than any insurrection in memory. All the while, my wretchedbetrothed lost his grip.On the throne, on his sanity, on anything butMareBarrow.
Hetriedtolethergo,orsoElanetoldme.Mavenknewaswellasanyofuswhatadangerhisobsessionwouldbecome.Killher.Bedone.Beridofherpoison,heusedtomutter.Elanelistenedundetected,quietinhercornerofhisprivatequarters.Thewordswereonlywords.Hecouldneverpartwithher.So it was easy to push her into his pathâand push him off course. Theequivalentofwavingaredflaginfrontofabull.Shewashishurricane,andeverynudgepulledhimdeeperintotheeyeofthestorm.Ithoughtshewasaneasytooltouse.Adistractedkingmakesforamorepowerfulqueen.
ButMaven shut me out of a place that was rightfully mine. He didnâtknowtolookforElane.Mylovely,invisibleshadow.Herreportscamelater,under the cover of night. They were very thorough. I feel them still,whisperedagainstmyskinwithonlythemoonto listen.ElaneHavenis themost beautiful girl Iâve ever seen in any capacity, but she looks best inmoonlight.
After Queenstrial, I promised her a consortâs crown. But that dreamdisappearedwithPrinceTiberias,asmostdreamsdowiththeharshbreakofday.Whore. Thatâs what Maven called her after the attempt on his life. Ialmostkilledhimwherehestood.
Ishakemyhead,refocusingonthetaskathand.Elanecanwait.Elaneiswaiting, justasmyparentspromised.Safe inourhome, tuckedaway in theRift.
ThebackcourtyardsofArcheonopenontoflourishinggardens,whichinturn are bounded by the palacewalls.A fewwrought-iron fencesward the
flowersandshrubbery.Goodforspears.ThewallandgardenpatrolsusedtobeguardsofmanydifferenthouseâLariswindweavers,silksofIral,vigilantEagrieeyesâbutthingshavechangedinrecentmonths.LarisandIralstandin opposition to Mavenâs rule, alongside House Haven. And with a battleraging, the king himself in danger, the other palace guards are scattered. Ilook up through the greenery,magnolia and cherry blossoms bright againstthedarksky.Figuresinblackprowlthediamondglassramparts.
OnlyHouseSamosremainstomanthewall.
âCousinsofiron!â
Theysnaptowardmyvoice,respondinginkind.
âCousinsofsteel!â
Sweat tricklesdownmyneckas thewall loomscloser.From fear, fromexertion.Onlyafewmoreyards.Inpreparation,Ithickenthepearlymetalofmyboots,hardeningmylaststeps.
âCanyougetyourselfup?âIaskPtolemus,reachingforWrenasIspeak.
Withagroan,he swingsoff the stretcher, forcinghimselfontounsteadyfeet. âIâmnot a child,Eve; I can cover thirty feet.âToprovehis point, theblacksteelre-formstohisbodyinsleekscales.
If we had more time, I would point out the weaknesses in his usuallyperfectarmor.Holesatthesides,thinningacrosstheback.Instead,Ionlynod.âYoufirst.â
He lifts a corner of his mouth, trying to smirk, trying to lessen myconcern.Iexhaleinreliefasherisesintotheair,rocketinguptotherampartsof thewall.Our cousins above catch himdeftly, drawing him inwith theirownability.
âOurturn.â
Wrenclingstomyside,safebeneathmyarm.Ihaulinabreath,holdingontothefeeloftherhodiummetalcurvingbeneathmytoes,upmylegs,overmyshoulders.Rise,Itellmyarmor.
Pop.
Thefirstsensationmyfathermademememorizewasabullet.Isleptwithonearoundmyneckfor twoyears.Until itbecameasfamiliar tomeasmycolors. I can name rounds from a hundred yards. Know their weight, theirshape, their composition. Such a small piece of metal is the differencebetween another personâs life and my death. It could be my killer, or my
savior.
Pop,pop,pop.Thebulletsexplodingintheirchambersfeellikeneedles,sharp, impossible to ignore. Theyâre coming from behind.My toes hit thegroundagainasmyfocusnarrows,myhandsflyinguptoshieldagainstthesuddenonslaught.
Armor-piercingrounds,fatcopperjacketswithbrutaltungstencoresandtapered tips, arc beforemy eyes, flyingbackward to landharmlessly in thegrass.Anothervolleycomesfromat leastadozenguns,andI throwoutanarm, protectingmyself. The thunder of automatic gunfire drowns out Tollyshoutingaboveme.
Eachbullet ripples againstmyability, taking anotherpieceof it, ofme.Somehaltmidair;somecrumple.IthroweverythingIcantocreateacocoonof safety. From the wall, Tolly andmy cousins do the same. They lift theweightenoughtoactuallyletmefigureoutwhoisshootingatme.
Redrags,hardeyes.ScarletGuard.
Igritmy teeth.Thebullets in thegrasswouldbeeasy to tossback intotheirskulls.Instead,Iripapartthetungstenlikewool,spinningitintoglintingthreadasfastasIcan.Tungstenisincrediblyheavyandstrong.Ittakesmoreenergytowork.Anotherbeadofsweatrollsalongmyspine.
Thethreadssplayout inaweb,hittingthetwelverebelshead-on.In thesamemotion,Iwrenchthegunsfromtheirhands,shreddingthemtopieces.Wren clings to me, holding tightly, and I feel myself pulled back and up,slidingalongperfectdiamondglass.
Tollycatchesme,ashealwaysdoes.
âAnddownagain,âhemutters.Hisgriponmyarmiscrushing.
Wrengulps,leaningtolook.Hereyeswiden.âBitfartherthistime.â
Iknow.Itâsahundredfeetdownsheercliff,andthenanothertwohundredover sloping rock to twist around to the riverâs edge. In the shadow of thebridge,Fathersaid.
In the garden, the rebels struggle, straining againstmy net. I feel thempushandpullit,asthemetalitselfstrainstobreakapart.Iteatsatmyfocus.Tungsten,Icursetomyself.Ineedmorepractice.
âLetâsgo,âItellthemall.
Behindme,thetungstencracksapartintodust.Astrong,heavything,butbrittle.Withoutamagnetronâshand,itbreaksbeforeitbends.
HouseSamosisdonewithboth.
Wewillnotbreak,andwewillnolongerbend.
Theboatscut soundlessly through thewater,glidingacross the surface.Wemakegoodtime.OuronlyobstacleisthepollutionofGrayTown.Thestinkof it clings tomy hair, still foul inmy body even aswe break through thesecondringofbarrier trees.Wrensensesmydiscomfortandputsahandonmy bare wrist. Her healing touch clears my lungs and chases away myexhaustion.Pushingsteelthroughwaterbecomestiringafterawhile.
Mother leans over the sleek side of my boat, trailing one hand in theflowingCapital.Afewcatfishrisetohertouch,theirwhiskerstwiningwithherfingers.Theslimybeastsdonâtbotherher,butIshudderwithdisgust.Sheisnât concernedbywhatever they tell her,meaning they canât sense anyonepursuing us.Her falcon overhead keepswatch aswell.When the sun sets,Mother will replace him with bats. As expected, not a scratch on her, orFather. He stands at the prow of the lead boat, setting our path. A blacksilhouetteagainsttheblueriverandgreenhills.Hispresencecalmsmemorethanthepeacefulvalley.
Noonespeaksformanymiles.Noteven thecousins,whoIcanusuallycountonfornonsensechatter.Instead,theyfocusondiscardingtheirSecurityuniforms.EmblemsofNortafloatinourwake,whilethejewel-brightmedalsandbadgessinkintodarkness.HardearnedwithSamosblood,marksofourallegianceandloyalty.Nowlosttothedepthsoftheriverandthepast.
WearenotNortansanymore.
âSoitâsdecided,âImurmur.
Behindme,Tollystraightensup.His ruinedarmisstillbandaged.Wrenwonâtriskregrowinganentirehandontheriver.âWasthereeveranydoubt?â
âWas thereeverachoice?âMother turns to lookoverher shoulder.Shemoveswith the leangraceofacat,stretchingout inherbrightgreengown.Thebutterfliesarelonggone.âAweakkingwecouldcontrol,butthereâsnohandlingmadness.AssoonasIraldecidedtoopposehimoutright,ourplaywas decided for us. And choosing the Lakelanderââshe rolls her eyesââMavencutthelastbondsbetweenourhouseshimself.â
I almost scoff in her face. No one decides anything formy father. Butlaughing atMother is not amistake Iâm stupid enough tomake. âWill theother houses back us, then? I know Father was negotiating.â Leaving hischildren alone, at the mercy of Mavenâs increasingly volatile court. More
wordsIwouldneverdaresayaloudtoeitherofmyparents.
Mother senses themanyway.âYoudidwell,Eve,â shecroons,puttingahandtomyhair.Sherunsafewsilverstrandsthroughherwetfingers.âAndyou,Ptolemus.Between thatmess inCorviumand thehouse rebellions, noonedoubtedyourallegiance.Youboughtustime,valuabletime.â
Ikeepmyfocusonsteelandwater,ignoringhercoldtouch.âIhopeitwasworthit.â
Before today, Maven faced multiple rebellions. Without House Samos,ourresources,ourlands,oursoldiers,howcouldhestandtowin?Butbeforetoday,hedidnâthavetheLakelands.NowIhavenoideawhatmightunfold.Idonâtlikethefeelingatall.Mylifehasbeenastudyinplanningandpatience.Anuncertainfuturefrightensme.
Inthewest,thesunsinksredagainstthehills.RedasElaneâshair.
Sheâswaiting,Itellmyselfagain.Sheâssafe.
Hersisterwasnotsofortunate.Marielladiedpoorly,hollowedoutbytheseethingMeranduswhisper. Iavoidedhimasmuchas Icould,glad IknewnothingofFatherâsplans.
I saw thedepthsofhispunishment inMare.After the interrogation, sheflinchedfromhimlikeakickeddog.Itwasmyfault.IforcedMavenâshand.Withoutmyinterference,hemighthaveneverletthewhisperhavehiswayâbutthenhewouldhavestayedawayfromMarealtogether.Hewouldnothavebeen so blinded by her. Instead, he did as I hoped, and drew her closer. Iexpected them to drown each other.How easy. Sink two enemieswith oneanchor. But she refused to break. The girl I remember, the masquerading,terrified servant who believed every lie, would have submitted to Mavenmonthsago.Instead,shedonnedadifferentmask.Dancedonhisstrings,satbyhisside, livedahalf-lifewithout freedomorability.Andstillheldon toherpride,herfire,heranger.Itwasalwaysthere,burninginhereyes.
Ihavetorespectherforthat.Eventhoughshetooksomuchfromme.
ShewasaconstantreminderofwhatIwassupposedtobe.Aprincess.Aqueen.IwasborntenmonthsafterTiberias.Iwasmadetomarryhim.
My firstmemoriesareofMotherâs snakeshissing inmyears,breathingherwhispersandpromises.Youareadaughterof fangsandsteel.Whatareyoumeantfor,ifnottorule?Everylessonintheclassroomorthearenawaspreparation.Bethebest,thestrongest,thesmartest,themostdeadlyandthemostcunning.Themostworthy.AndIwaseverything.
Kingsarenotknownfortheirkindnessortheircompassion.Queenstrialisnotmeanttomakehappymarriages,butstrongchildren.WithCal,Ihadboth.Hewouldnothavebegrudgedmemyownconsort,ortriedtocontrolme.Hiseyesweresoftandthoughtful.HewasmorethanIhadeverhopedfor.AndIhad earned himwith every drop of blood Iâd spilled, allmy sweat, allmytearsofpainandfrustration.Everysacrificeofwhomyheartwantedtobe.
ThenightbeforeQueenstrial,Idreamedwhatitwouldbelike.Mythrone.Myroyalchildren.Subjecttonoone,notevenFather.TiberiaswouldbemyfriendandElanemylover.ShewouldmarryTolly,asplanned,ensuringnoneofuscouldeverbeparted.
ThenMarefellintoourlivesandblewthatdreamawaylikesand.
Once, I thought the crown prince would do the unthinkable. Push measideforthelong-lostTitanoswithstrangewaysandanevenstrangerability.Instead,shewasadeadlypawn,sweepingmykingfromtheboard.Thepathsoffatehavestrangetwists.Iwonderifthatnewbloodseerknewabouttoday.Doeshelaughatwhathesees?IwishIâdgottenmyhandsonhimjustonce.Ihatenotknowing.
On thebanksahead,manicured lawnscomeintoview.Theedgesof thegrasstingegoldandred,givingtheestatesliningtheriveralovelyglow.Ourownmanorhouseisclose,justonemoremile.Thenweturnwest.Towardourtruehome.
Motherneveransweredmyquestion.
âSo,wasFatherabletoconvincetheotherhouses?âIaskher.
Shenarrowshereyes,herentirebodytightening.Coilingup,likeoneofhersnakes.âHouseLariswasalreadywithus.â
That I knew. Along with controlling most of the Nortan Air Fleet, theLariswindweaversgoverntheRift.Intruth,theyrulebyourcommand.Eagerpuppets,willingtotradeanythingtomaintainourironandcoalmines.
Elane.HouseHaven.Iftheyarenâtwithusâ
I lick lips that are suddenly dry. A fist clenches at my side. The boatgroansbeneathme.âAndâŠâ
âIral has not agreed to the terms, and more than half of Haven wonâteither.â Mother sniffs. She folds her arms across her chest, as if insulted.âDonâtworry,Elaneisnâtoneofthem.Pleasestopcrushingtheboat.Idonâtfeellikeswimmingthelastmile.â
Tollynudgesmyarm,a slight touch.Exhaling, I realizemygripon thesteelwasabittoostrong.Thebowsmoothsagain,ripplingbackintoshape.
âApologies,âImutterquickly.âIâmjustâŠconfused.Ithoughtthetermswerealreadyagreedupon.TheRiftwillriseinopendefiance.IralbringsonHouseLerolanandallofDelphie.Anentirestatewillsecede.â
Motherglancespastme, toFather.Heangleshisboat toward theshore,andIfollowhislead.Ourfamiliarestatepeeksthroughthetrees,backlitbydusk.âTherewassomedebateovertitles.â
âTitles?âIsneer.âHowstupid.Whatcouldtheirargumentpossiblybe?â
Steelhitsstone,bumpingup to the lowretainingwall runningalongthewater.Withasmallburstoffocus,Iholdthemetalfirmagainstthecurrent.WrenhelpsTollyoutfirst,steppingupontothelushcarpetofgrass.Motherwatches,hergazelingeringonhismissinghandwhilethecousinsfollow.
Ashadowfallsoverusboth.Father.Hestandsoverhershoulder.Alightwind rippleshiscloak,playingalong the foldsofvoid-black silkand silverthread.Hiddenbeneathisasuitofblue-tingedchromiumsofineitcouldbeliquid.
ââIwillnotkneeltoanothergreedyking,ââhewhispers.Fatherâsvoiceisalwayssoftasvelvet,deadlyasapredator.âThatâswhatSalinIralsaid.â
He reaches down, offeringmymother his hand. She takes it deftly andstepsfromtheboat.Itdoesnâtmoveunderher,heldbymyability.
Anotherking.
âFatherâŠ?â
Theworddiesinmymouth.
âCousinsofiron!âheshouts,neverbreakingourstare.
Behind him, our Samos cousins drop to a knee. Ptolemus does not,lookingonwithasmuchconfusionasI feel.Bloodmembersofahousedonotkneeltooneanother.Notlikethis.
Theyrespondasone,theirvoicesringing.âKingsofsteel!â
Quickly, Father extends his hand, catching my wrist before my shockripplestheboatbeneath.
Hiswhisperisalmosttoolowtohear.
âTotheKingdomoftheRift.â
TWENTYMare
Thegreen-uniformedteleporterlandsevenly,onsteadyfeet.Itâsbeenalongtimesincetheworldsqueezedandblurredforme.ThelasttimewasShade.The split-second memory of him aches. Paired with my wound and thenauseating rush of pain, itâs no wonder I collapse tomy hands and knees.Spotsdancebeforemyeyes,threateningtospreadandconsume.IwillmyselftostayawakeandnotvomitalloverâŠwhereverIam.
Before I can look much farther than the metal beneath my fingers,someonepullsmeupintoacrushingembrace.IclingonashardasIcan.
âCal,âIwhisperinhisear,lipsbrushingflesh.Hesmellslikesmokeandblood,heatandsweat.Myheadfitsperfectly in thespacebetweenhisneckandshoulder.
Hetremblesinmyarms,shaking.Evenhisbreathhitches.HeâsthinkingthesamethingIam.
Thiscanâtbereal.
Slowly,hepullsback,bringinghishandstocupmyface.Hesearchesmyeyesandglaresovereveryinchofme.Idothesame,lookingforthetrick,thelie, thebetrayal.MaybeMavenhasskinchangerslikeNanny.MaybethisisanotherMerandushallucination.IcouldwakeuponMavenâstrain,tohisiceeyesandEvangelineâsrazorsmile.Theentirewedding,myescape,thebattleâsomehorrificjoke.ButCalfeelsreal.
Heâspaler thanIremember,withblunt,close-cuthair. Itwouldcurl likeMavenâsifgiventhechance.Roughstubblelineshischeeks,alongwithafewminor nicks and cuts along the sharp edges of his jaw.He is leaner than Iremember, hismuscles harder beneathmyhands.Only his eyes remain thesame.Bronze,red-gold,likeironbroughttoblazingheat.
I look different too. A skeleton, an echo. He runs a limp lock of hairthrough his fingers, watching the brown fade to brittle gray. And then hetouches the scars.Atmy neck,my spine, endingwith the brand belowmyruineddress.Hisfingersaregentle,shockinglysoafterwealmostrippedeachotherapart.Iamglasstohim,afragilethingthatmightshatterordisappearat
anymoment.
âItâsme,âItellhim,whisperingwordswebothneedtohear.âIâmback.â
Iâmback.
âIsityou,Cal?âIsoundlikeachild.
Henods,hisgazeneverwavering.âItâsme.â
Imovebecausehewonât,takingusbothbysurprise.Mylipsmoldtohiswith ferocity, and I pull him in. His heat falls like a blanket around myshoulders.Ifighttokeepmysparksfromdoingthesame.Still, thehairsonhisneckrise,respondingtotheelectriccurrentjumpingintheair.Neitherofusclosesoureyes.Thismightstillbeadream.
He comes to his senses first, scooping me off my feet. A dozen facespretendtolookawayinsomesemblanceofpropriety.Idonâtcare.Letthemlook.Noflushofshamerises.Iâvebeenforcedtodofarworseinfrontofacrowd.
Weâre on an airjet. The long fuselage, dull roar of engines, and cloudsslipping past make it unmistakable. Not to mention the delicious purr ofelectricitypulsingthroughwiresspanningeveryinch.Ireachout,layingmypalmflatagainst thecool, curvedmetalof the jetwall. Itwouldbeeasy todrinktherhythmicpulse,pullitintome.Easyandstupid.AsmuchasIwanttogorgemyselfonthesensation,thatwouldendverypoorly.
Calneverremoveshishandfromthesmallofmyback.Heturnstolookoverhisshoulder,addressingoneofthedozenpeopleharnessedintheirseats.
âHealerReese,herfirst,âhesays.
âSurething.â
Mygrindisappears thesecondanunfamiliarmanputshishandsonme.His fingersclosearoundmywrist.Thegrip feelswrong,heavy.Likestone.Manacles.Withoutthought,Ismackhimawayandjumpback,asifburned.Terrormaulsmyinsidesassparksspitfrommyfingers.Facesflash,cloudingmyvision.Maven,Samson, theArvenguardswith theirbruisinghandsandhardeyes.Overhead,thelightsflicker.
The red-haired healer flinches back, yelping, as Cal smoothly anglesbetweenus.
âMare,heâsgoing to treatyourwounds.Heâs anewblood,withus.âHebraces one hand against thewall bymy face, shieldingme.Boxingme in.Suddenly thedecent-sized jet is toosmall, theairstaleandsuffocating.The
weightofmanaclesisgonebutnotforgotten.Istillfeelthematmywristsandankles.
Thelightsflickeragain.Iswallowhard,squeezingmyeyesshut,tryingtofocus.Control.Butmyheartbeatrageson,mypulseathunder.Isuckdownair through gritted teeth, willingmyself to calm down. Youâre safe. YouârewithCal,theGuard.Youâresafe.
Caltakesmyfaceagain,pleading.âOpenyoureyes,lookatme.â
Nooneelsemakesasound.
âMare,nooneisgoingtohurtyouhere.Itâsallover.Lookatme!âIhearthedesperationinhim.HeknowsaswellasIdowhatcouldhappentothejetifIlosecontrolentirely.
Thejetshiftsbeneathmyfeet,anglingdowninasteadydecline.Gettingusclose to thegroundshould theworsthappen.Settingmyjaw, I forcemyeyesopen.
Lookatme.
Maven said those words once. In Harbor Bay. When the sounderthreatenedtotearmeapart.IhearhiminCalâsvoice,seehiminCalâsface.No,Iescapedyou.Igotaway.ButMaveniseverywhere.
Calsighs,exasperatedandpained.âCameron.â
The name ripsmy eyes open and I slamboth fists intoCalâs chest.Hestumbles back, surprised by the force.A silver flush colors his cheeks.Heknitshisbrowsinconfusion.
Behindhim,Cameronkeepsonehandonherseat,steadilyswayingwiththemotionofthejet.Shelooksstrong,zippedintothick-weavetacticalgear,withher freshbraids tightlywound toherhead.Herdeepbrowneyesboreintomine.
âNotthat.âBeggingcomestooeasily.âAnythingbutthat.Please.IcanâtâIcanâtfeelthatagain.â
Thesmotherofsilence.Theslowdeath. Ispentsixmonthsbeneath thatweightandnow,feelingmyselfagain,Imaynotsurviveanothermomentwithit.Agaspoffreedombetweentwoprisonsisjustanothertorture.
Cameronkeepsherhandsathersides,long,darkfingersstill.Waitingtostrike.Themonthshavechangedhertoo.Herfirehasnotdisappeared,butithasdirection,focus.Purpose.
âFine,âshereplies.Withdeliberatemotions,shecrossesherarmsoverherchest,foldingawayherlethalhands.Ialmostcollapseinrelief.âItâsgoodtoseeyou,Mare.â
Myheartbeat still thrums, enough tomakemebreathless, but the lightsstopflickering.Idipmyheadinrelief.âThankyou.â
Atmyside,Callooksongrimly.Amuscleripplesinhischeek.Whatheâsthinking,Icanâtsay.ButIcanguess.Ispentsixmonthswithmonsters,andIhavenâtforgottenwhatitfeelsliketobeamonstermyself.
Slowly,Isinkintoanemptyseat,puttingmypalmsonmyknees.ThenIlacemyfingerstogether.Thensitonmyhands.Idonâtknowwhichlookstheleastthreatening.Furiouswithmyself,Iglareatthemetalbetweenmytoes.Suddenly Iâm very aware of my army jacket and battered dress, ripped atalmosteveryseam,andhowcolditisinhere.
The healer notes my shiver and quickly drapes a blanket around myshoulders.Hemovessteadily,allbusiness.Whenhecatchesmyeye,hegivesmeahalfsmile.
âHappensallthetime,âhemutters.
Iforceachuckle,ahollowsound.
âLetâsseethatside,okay?â
AsItwisttoshowhimtheshallowbutlonggashalongmyribs,Caltakestheseatnexttome.Heoffersasmileofhisown.
Sorry,hemouthstome.
Sorry,Imouthback.
Even though I have nothing to be truly sorry for. For once. Iâve comethroughhorrendousthings,donehorrendousthingstosurvive.Itâseasierthisway.Fornow.
IdonâtknowwhyIpretendtosleep.Asthehealerdoeshiswork,myeyesslipclosedandtheystaythatwayforhours.Iâvedreamedofthismomentforso long itâsalmostoverwhelming.Theonly thing Icando is leanbackandbreatheeasy.Ifeellikeabomb.Nosuddenmoves.Calstaysclosetomyside,hislegpressedupagainstmine.Ihearhimshiftoccasionally,buthedoesnâtspeakwiththeothers.NeitherdoesCameron.Theirattentionisreservedforme.
Partofmewantstotalk.Askthemaboutmyfamily.Kilorn.Farley.Whathappenedbefore,whatâshappeningnow.Wherethehellweâreevengoing.I
canâtgetpast thinking thewords.Thereâsonlyenoughenergy inme to feelrelief.Cool,soothingrelief.Calisalive;Cameronisalive.Iâmalive.
Theothersmutteramongthemselves, theirvoiceslowoutofrespect.Orthey just donât want to wake me up and risk another brush with ficklelightning.
Eavesdroppingissecondnatureatthispoint.Icatchafewwords,enoughto paint a hazy picture. Scarlet Guard, tactical success, Montfort. The lasttakesmealongmomentofcontemplation.Ibarelyrememberthenewbloodtwins,envoysofanothernationfaraway.Theirfacesblurinmymemory.ButI certainly remember their offer. Safe haven for newbloods, provided Iaccompanythem.Itunsettledmethenandunsettlesmenow.Iftheyâvemadeanalliancewith theScarletGuardâwhatwas theprice?Mybody tensesatthe implication.Montfortwantsme for something, thatmuch is clear.AndMontfortseemstohaveaidedmyrescue.
Inmyhead,Ibrushagainst theelectricityof the jet, lettingitcall to theelectricityinsideme.Somethingtellsmethisbattleisnâtoveryet.
The jet lands smoothly, touchingdownafter sunset. I jumpat the sensationandCal reactswith catlike reflexes, his hand coming down onmywrist. Iflinchawayagainwithaspikeofadrenaline.
âSorry,âhesputters.âIââ
Despitemy churning stomach, I forcemyself to calm down. I take hiswristinmyhand,fingersbrushingalongthesteelofhisflamemakerbracelet.
âHekeptmechainedup.SilentStonemanacles,nightandday,âIwhisper.Itightenmygrip,lettinghimfeelabitofwhatIremember.âIstillcanâtgetthemoutofmyhead.â
Hisbrowfurrowsoverdarkeningeyes.Iknowpainintimately,butIcanâtfindthestrengthtoseeitinCal.Idropmygaze,runningathumbalonghishot skin. Another reminder that he is here and I am here. Nomatter whathappens,thereisalwaysthis.
Heshifts,movingwithhis lethalgrace,until Iâmholdinghishand.Ourfingerslaceandtighten.âIwishIcouldmakeyouforget,âhesays.
âThatwonâthelpanything.â
âIknow.Butstill.â
Cameronwatchesfromacrosstheaisle,onetappinglegcrossedovertheother.ShelooksalmostamusedwhenIglanceather.âAmazing,âshesays.
Itrynottobristle.MyrelationshipwithCameron,thoughshort,wasnotexactlysmooth. Inhindsight,my fault.Another ina long lineofmistakes Idesperatelywanttofix.âWhat?â
Grinning,sheunstrapsfromherseatandstandsasthejetslows.âYoustillhavenâtaskedwhereweâregoing.â
âAnywhereâsbetterthanwhereIwas.âIthrowapointedglanceatCalandpullmyhand away to foolwith thebuckles ofmyharness. âAnd I figuredsomeonewouldfillmein.â
He shrugs as he gets up. âWaiting for the right time. Didnât want tooverloadyou.â
For the first time in a long time, I truly laugh. âThat is an absolutelyhorrificpun.â
Hiswidesmilematchesmine.âDoesthejob.â
âThisisbleedingunbearable,âCameronmutterstoherself.
Once Iâm free from my seat, I approach her, tentative. She notes myapprehensionandshovesherhands inherpockets. Itâsnot likeCameron tobackdownorsoften,butshedoesforme.IdidnâtseeherinthebattleandIâdbestupidnottorealizehertruepurpose.Sheâsonthisjettokeepaneyeonme,abucketofwaternexttoacampfireshoulditrageoutofcontrol.
Slowly, I put my arms around her shoulders, hugging her close. I tellmyselfnot to flinchat thefeelofherskin.Shecancontrol it, I tellmyself.Shewonâtlethersilencetouchyou.âThanksforbeinghere,âItellher.Imeanit.
She nods tightly, her chin brushing the top of my head. So damn tall.EithersheâsstillgrowingorIâvestartedshrinking.Evenmoneyonboth.
âNowtellmewherehereis,âIadd,pullingback.âAndwhatthehellIâvebeenmissing.â
She ducks her chin, gesturing toward the tail of the plane.Like the oldBlackrun,thisairjetfeaturesarampentrance.Itlowerswithapneumatichiss.HealerReeseleadstheothersout,andwefollow,afewpacesbehind.Itenseaswego,notknowingwhattoexpectoutside.
âWeâre a lucky bunch,â Cameron says. âWe get to see what Piedmontlookslike.â
âPiedmont?âIglanceatCal,unabletohidemyshockormyconfusion.
Herollshisshoulders.Discomfortflashesacrosshisface.âIwasnâtawareuntilthiswasplanned.Theydidnâttellusmuch.â
âThey never do.â Thatâs how the Guard works, how it keeps ahead ofSilvers like Samson or Elara. People know exactlywhat they need to, andnothingmore.Ittakesalotoffaith,orstupidity,tofolloworderslikethat.
I walk down the ramp, each step lighter than the last. Without thedeadweightofmanacles,IfeellikeIcouldfly.TheotherGuardsmenkeeponaheadofusandjoininwithacrowdofothersoldiers.
âThe Piedmont branch of the Scarlet Guard, right? Big branch, by thelooksofit.â
âWhatdoyoumean?âCalmuttersinmyear.Overhisshoulder,Cameroneyesusboth,equallypuzzled.Iglancebetweenthem,searchingfortherightthingtosay.Ichoosethetruth.
âThatâswhyweâreinPiedmont.TheGuardhasbeenoperatinghereasinNortaand theLakelands.âThewordsof thePiedmontprinces,DaraeusandAlexandret,echoinmymind.
Cal holds my gaze for a moment, before turning to look at Cameron.âYouâreclosetoFarley.Youhearanythingaboutthis?â
Camerontapsherlip.âShenevermentionedit.Idoubtsheknows.Orhasclearancetotellme.â
Theirtoneschange.Sharper,allbusiness.Theydonâtlikeeachother.OnCameronâs end, I understand. On Calâs? He was raised a prince. Even theScarletGuardcanâtscrubawayeveryinchofbrat.
âIsmyfamilyhere?âIsharpentoo.âDoyouknowthat,atleast?â
âOfcourse,âCalreplies.Heâsnotagoodliar,andIseenolieinhimnow.âI was assured of it. They came from Trial with the rest of the Colonelâsteam.â
âGood.Iâmgoingtoseethemassoonaspossible.â
ThePiedmontairishot,heavy,sticky.Likethedeepestholeofsummer,eventhoughitâsonlyspring.Iâveneverstartedsweatingsoquickly.Eventhebreezeiswarm,offeringnorespiteasitrollsacrosstheflat,hotconcrete.Thelanding field is awash with floodlights, so bright it almost crowds out thestars. In thedistance,more jets lineup.Someare forestgreen, sameas theones I saw inCaesarâs Square.Airjets like theBlackrun, aswell as biggercargo craft.Montfort, I realize as the dots connect inmy brain.The white
triangleontheirwingsistheirmark.Isawitbefore,backatTuckoncratesofequipmentandon the twinsâuniforms.Peppered inwith theMontfortcraftsaredeepblue jets, aswell asyellow-and-whiteones, theirwingspainted instripes.ThefirstareLakelander,thesecondfromPiedmontitself.Everythingaroundus iswell-organized and, judgingbyhangars andoutbuildings,wellfunded.
Clearly,weâre on amilitary base, andnot the kind theScarletGuard isusedto.
BothCalandCameronlookjustassurprisedasIdo.
âI just spent sixmonths a prisoner, and youâre tellingme I knowmoreaboutouroperationsthanthebothofyou?âIscoffatthem.
Cal looks sheepish. Heâs a general; heâs Silver; he was born a prince.Beingconfusedandhelplessdeeplyunsettleshim.
Cameron just bristles. âTook you just a few hours to regain your self-righteousness.Mustbeanewrecord.â
Sheâs right, and it stings. I hurry to catchher,Cal atmy side. âI justâsorry.Ithoughtthiswouldbeeasier.â
A hand at the small of my back bleeds warmth, soothing mymuscles.âWhatdoyouknowthatwedonât?âCalasks,hisvoiceachinglygentle.Partofmewantstoshakehimoutofit.IâmnotadollânotMavenâsdoll,nooneâsâandIâmincontrolagain.Idonâtneedtobehandled.But therestrelisheshistendertreatment.ItâsbetterthananythingIâveexperiencedinsolong.
Idonâtbreakmystride,butIkeepmyvoicelow.âOnthedayHouseIralandtheotherstriedtokillMaven,hewasholdingafeastfortwoprincesfromPiedmont.DaraeusandAlexandret.Theyquestionedmebeforehand,askingabouttheScarletGuard,theiroperationsintheirkingdom.Somethingaboutaprince and princess.â The memory sharpens into focus. âCharlotta andMichael.Theyâremissing.â
AdarkcloudcrossesCalâsface.âWeheardtheprinceswereinArcheon.Alexandretdiedafterward.Intheassassinationattempt.â
Iblink,surprised.âHowdoyouââ
âWe kept tabs on you as best we could,â he explains. âIt was in thereports.â
Reports.Theword spirals. âIs thatwhyNannywasembedded incourt?Tokeepaneyeonme?â
âNanny was my fault,â Cal spits out. He glares at his feet. âNo oneelseâs.â
Nexttohim,Cameronscowls.âDamnright.â
âMissBarrow!â
Thevoice isnâtashock.Where theScarletGuardgoes,sodoesColonelFarley. He looks almost the same as always: careworn, gruff, and brutish,close-croppedwhite-blondhair,hisfacelinedwithprematurestress,andoneeyecloudedwithapermanentfilmofscarletblood.Theonlychangesarethesteady graying of his hair, as well as a sunburn across his nose and morefreckles on his exposed forearms. The Lakelander isnât used to Piedmontsunshine,andheâsbeenherelongenoughtofeelit.
Lakelander soldiers of his own, their uniforms a split of red and blue,accompanyhiminflankingposition.Twoothersingreentrailalongaswell.IrecognizeRashandTahiratadistance,walkinginevenstep.Farleyisnâtwiththem.AndIdonâtseeherontheconcrete,leavingoneoftheairjets.It isnâtlikehertoturnfromafightâunlessshenevermadeitoutofNorta.Iswallowthesoberingthoughtandfocusonherfather.
âColonel.âIdipmyheadingreeting.
Hesurprisesmewhenheputsoutoneincrediblycallusedhand.
âGoodtoseeyouwhole,âhesays.
âWholeascanbeexpected.â
That unsettles him. He coughs, looking between the three of us. Aprecariousplacetobeforamanwhoopenlyfearswhatweare.
âIâmgoingtoseemyfamilynow,Colonel.â
Thereâsnoreasontoaskpermission.Imovetosidestephim,buthishandstopsmecold.This time,I fight theguturge toflinchaway.Nooneelse isgoingtoseemyfear.Notrightnow.Instead,I levelmyeyesonhis,andlethimrealizeexactlywhatheâsdoing.
âThisisnâtmydecision,âtheColonelsaysfirmly.Heraiseshiseyebrows,imploringmeto listen.Thenhetipshisheadto theside.Overhisshoulder,RashandTahirnodatme.
âMissBarrowââ
âWeâvebeeninstructedââ
ââtoescortyouââ
ââtoyourdebriefing.â
The twins blink at me in unison, finishing their maddening tandemspeech.LiketheColonel,theysweatinthehumidity.Itmakestheirmatchingblackbeardsandocherskingleam.
Insteadofpunchingthemboth,asIwishIcould,Itakeasmallstepback.Debriefing.The thoughtof explaining all Iâvebeen through to someGuardstrategistmakesmewanttoscreamorstormâorboth.
Calcutsbetweenus,ifonlytocushionwhateverblowImightsendtheirway.
âYouâre reallygoing tomakeherdo thisnow?âHis toneofdisbelief isundercutwithwarning.âItcanwait.â
The Colonel exhales slowly, the picture of exasperation. âIt may seemheartlessââhe throwsa cuttingglare at theMontfort twinsââbutyouhavevital informationonour enemies.These areourorders,Barrow.âHisvoicesoftens.âIwishtheywerenât.â
Withalighttouch,IpushCaltotheside.âIâmâgoingâtoâseeâmyâfamilyânow!â I shout, speaking back and forth between the insufferabletwins.Theyjustscowl.
âHowrude,âRashmutters.
âQuiterude,âTahirmuttersback.
Cameronconcealsalowlaughasacough.âDonâttempther,âshewarns.âIâlllooktheotherwayiflightningstrikes.â
âTheorderscanwait,âCaladds,usingallofhismilitarytrainingtoseemcommanding,evenifhehaslittleauthorityhere.TheScarletGuardseeshimasaweapon,nothingmore.IknowbecauseIusedtoseehimthesameway.
The twins donât budge. Rash blusters, drawing himself up like a birdfluffingitsfeathers.âCertainlyyouhaveasmuchmotiveasanyonetoaidinKingMavenâsdownfall?â
âCertainlyyouknowthebestwaystodefeathim?âTahircarrieson.
Theyârenotwrong.IâveseenMavenâsdeepestwoundsanddarkestparts.Wheretohithimtomakehimbleedmost.Butinthismoment,witheveryoneI love so close, I can barely see straight. Right now, if someone chainedMaventothegroundinfrontofme,Iwouldnâtstoptokickhimintheteeth.
âIdonâtcarewhoâsholdingyourleash,anyofyou.âIstepneatlyaround
themboth.âTellyourmastertowait.â
Thebrotherstradeglances.Theyspeakineachotherâsthoughts,debating.IwouldwalkawayifIknewwheretogo,butIâmhopelesslyadrift.
Mymind already races ahead, toMom,Dad, Gisa, Tramy, and Bree. Ipicture themholedup in another barracks, squeezed into a dormitory roomsmallerthanourstilthouse.Momâsbadcookingstinkingupthespace.Dadâschair,Gisaâsscraps.Itmakesmyheartache.
âIâll find themmyself,â I hiss, intending to leave the twins behind forgood.
Instead,RashandTahirbowback,wavingmeon.âVerywellââ
âYourdebriefingisinthemorning,MissBarrow.â
âColonel,ifyouwouldescorthertoââ
âYes,âtheColonelsayssharply,cuttingthembothoff.Iâmgratefulforhishastiness.âFollowme,Mare.â
The Piedmont base is much larger than Tuck, judging by the size of thelanding field. In the dark itâs hard to tell, but it reminds memore of FortPatriot, the Nortan military headquarters in Harbor Bay. The hangars arelarger, theaircraftnumbering in thedozens. Insteadofwalking towhereverweâre going, the Colonelâsmen drive us in an open-topped transport. Likesome of the jets, its sides are striped yellow and white. Tuck I couldunderstand.Anabandonedbase,outofsight,outofmind,wasprobablyeasyfortheScarletGuardtotake.Butthisisnoneofthosethings.
âWhereâsKilorn?âImumbleundermybreath,nudgingCalbesideme.
âWith your family, I assume. He bounced between them and thenewbloodsmostofthetime.â
Becausehehasnofamilyofhisown.
Idropmyvoicelower,tosavetheColonelanyoffense.âAndFarley?â
CameronleansaroundCal,hereyesoddlykind.âSheâsinthehospital,butdonâtworry.ShedidnâtgotoArcheon;sheisnâtinjured.Youâllseehersoon.âShe blinks rapidly, selecting her words with care. âYou two will haveâŠthingstotalkabout.â
âGood.â
Thewarmairtugsatmewithstickyfingers,tanglingmyhair.Icanbarelysitstillinmyseat,tooexcitedandnervous.WhenIwastaken,Shadehadjust
diedâbecause of me. I wouldnât blame anyone, including Farley, if theyhatedmeforit.Timedoesnâtalwayshealwounds.Onceinawhile,itmakesthemworse.
Calkeepsahandonmyleg,afirmweightasareminderofhispresence.Nexttome,hiseyeswhipbackandforth,notingeveryturnofthetransport.Ishould do the same. The Piedmont base is unfamiliar ground. But I canâtbringmyselftodomuchmorethanchewmylipandhope.Mynervesbuzz,but not from electricity.Whenwemake a right, turning in to a network ofcheerybrickrowhouses,IfeellikeImightexplode.
âOfficersâquarters,âCalmuttersunderhisbreath.âThis isa royalbase.Governmentfunded.ThereâsonlyafewPiedmontbasesofthissize.â
HistonetellsmehewondersasIdo.Thenhowarewehere?
Weslow in front of theonlyhousewith everywindowablaze.Withoutthought,Ivaultoverthesideofthetransport,almosttrippingovertheragsofmy dress. My vision narrows to the path in front of me. Gravel walk,flagstone steps.The ripples ofmovement behind curtainedwindows. I hearonlymyheartbeat,andthecreakofanopeningdoor.
Mom reachesme first, outstripping bothmy long-limbed brothers. Thecollisionalmostknockstheairfrommylungs,andherresultinghugactuallydoes. Idonâtmind.Shecouldbreakeverybone inmybodyand Iwouldnâtmind.
BreeandTramyhalfcarrybothofusupthestepsandintotherowhouse.TheyâreshoutingsomethingwhileMomwhispersinmyear.Ihearnoneofit.Happinessandjoyoverwhelmeverysense.Iâveneverfeltanythinglikeit.
MykneesbrushagainstarugandMomkneelswithmeinthemiddleofthe large foyer. She keeps kissingmy face, alternating cheeks so quickly Ithinktheymightbruise.Gisawormsinwithus,herdarkredhairablazeinthecornerofmyeye.LiketheColonel,shehasadustingofnewfreckles,brownspotsagainstgoldenskin.Ituckherclose.Sheusedtobesmaller.
Tramy grins over us, sporting a dark, well-kept beard. He was alwaystryingtogrowoneasateenager.Nevergotfurtherthanpatchystubble.Breeused to teasehim.Notnow.Hebraceshimselfagainstmyback, thickarmswrappingaroundMomandme.Hischeeksarewet.Withajolt,Irealizeminearetoo.
âWhereâsâŠ?âIask.
Thankfully, I donât have time to fear the worst. When he appears, I
wonderifIâmhallucinating.
HeleansheavyonKilornâsarmandacane.Themonthshavebeengoodto him. Regular meals filled him out. He walks slowly from an adjoiningroom.Walks.Hispaceisstilted,unnatural,unfamiliar.Myfatherhasnothadtwo legs inyears.Ormore thanoneworking lung.Ashe approaches, eyesbright,Ilisten.Norasp.Noclickofamachinetohelphimbreathe.Nosqueakofarustyoldwheelchair.Idonâtknowwhattothinkorsay.Iforgothowtallheis.
Healers.ProbablySaraherself.Ithankherathousandtimessilentlyinsidemy heart. Slowly, I stand, pulling the army jacket tight around me. It hasbulletholes.Dadeyesthem,stillasoldier.
âYoucanhugme.Iwonâtfallover,âhesays.
Liar. He almost topples when I wrap my arms around his middle, butKilornkeepshimupright.WeembraceinawaywehavenâtbeenabletosinceIwasalittlegirl.
Momâssofthandsbrushmyhairawayfrommyface,andshesettlesherheadnexttomine.Theykeepmebetweenthem,shelteredandsafe.Andforthatmoment, I forget.There isnoMaven,nomanacles,nobrand,noscars.Nowar,norebellion.
NoShade.
Iwasnâttheonlyonemissingfromourfamily.Nothingcanchangethat.
He isnât here, and never will be again. My brother is alone on anabandonedisland.
IrefusetoletanotherBarrowsharehisfate.
TWENTY-ONEMare
Thebathwaterswirlsbrown and red.Dirtandblood.Momdrains thewatertwice,andstillshekeepsfindingmoreinmyhair.Atleastthehealeronthejettookcareofmyfreshwounds,soIcanenjoythesoapyheatwithoutanymorepain.Gisaperchesonastoolbytheedgeofthetub,herspinestraightinthestiffposturesheperfectedovertheyears.Eithersheâsgottenprettierorsixmonthsdulledmymemoryofherface.Straightnose,fulllips,andsparkling,dark eyes. Momâs eyes, my eyes. The eyes all the Barrows have, exceptShade.Hewas the only one of uswith eyes like honey or gold. Frommydadâsmother.Thoseeyesaregoneforever.
I turn from thoughts ofmy brother and stare atGisaâs hand.The one Ibrokewithmyfoolishmistakes.
The skin is smooth now, the bones reset. No evidence of her mangledbodypart,shatteredbythebuttofaSecurityofficerâsgun.
âSara,âGisaexplainsgently,flexingherfingers.
âShedidagoodjob,âItellher.âWithDadtoo.â
âThat took a whole week, you know. Regrowing everything from thethigh down.And heâs still getting used to it. But it didnât hurt asmuch asthis.âShe flexesher fingers, grinning. âYouknowshehad to rebreak thesetwo?âHerindexandmiddlefingerwiggle.âUsedahammer.Hurtlikehell.â
âGisaBarrow, your language is appalling.â I splash a littlewater at herfeet.Sheswearsagain,drawinghertoesaway.
âBlame the ScarletGuard. Seems they spend all their time cursing andasking for more flags.â Sounds about right. Not one to be outdone, Gisareachesintothetubandflickswateratme.
Momtutsatbothofus.Shetriestolookstern,andfailshorribly.âNoneofthat,youtwo.â
A fuzzywhite towel snaps between her hands, held out. Asmuch as Iwanttospendanotherhoursoakinginsoothinghotwater,Iwanttogetbackdownstairsmuchmore.
The water sloshes around me as I stand up and step out of the bath,curlingintothetowel.Gisaâssmilefaltersalittle.Myscarsareplainasday,pearlybitsofwhitefleshagainstdarkerskin.EvenMomglancesaway,givingmeasecondtowrapthetowelabitbetter,hidingthebrandonmycollarbone.
I focuson thebathroominsteadof theirshamedfaces. It isnâtasfineastheoneIhadinArcheon,butthelackofSilentStonemorethanmakesupforit. Whatever officer lived here had very bright taste. The walls are garishorange trimmed in white tomatch the porcelain fixings, including a flutedsink,thedeepbathtub,andashowerhiddenbehindalime-greencurtain.Myreflectionstaresbackfromthemirroroverthesink.Ilooklikeadrownedrat,albeit a very clean one. Next to my mother, I see our resemblance moreclosely.Sheâssmall-bonedasIam,ourskinthesamegoldenshade.Thoughhersismorecarewornandwrinkled,carvedwiththeyears.
Gisa leadsusout and into thehall,whileMomfollows,dryingmyhairwithanothersofttowel.Theyshowmeintoapowder-bluebedroomwithtwofluffy beds. Itâs small butmore than suitable. Iâd take a dirt floor over themostsumptuouschamberinMavenâspalace.Momisquicktopullmeintoapairofcottonpajamas,nottomentionsocksandasoftshawl.
âMom,Iâmgoingtoboil,âIprotestkindly,unwindingtheshawlfrommyneck.
She takes it backwith a smile. Then she kissesme again, swooping tobrushbothmycheeks.âJustmakingyoucomfortable.â
âTrustme,Iam,âItellher,givingherarmasqueeze.
Inthecorner,Inoticemyjeweledgownfromthewedding,nowreducedtoscraps.Gisafollowsmygazeandblushes.
âThought I could save a bit of it,â my sister admits, looking almostsheepish.âThosearerubies.Iâmnotgoingtowasterubies.â
ItseemsshehasmoreofmythiefâsinstinctsthanIrealized.
And,apparently,sodoesmymother.
ShespeaksbeforeIeventakeasteptowardthebedroomdoor.
âIfyouthinkIâmgoingtoletyoustayuptoallhourstalkingwar,youareabsolutely incorrect.â To cement her point, she folds her arms and settlesdirectlyinmypath.Mymotherisshorter,likeme,butsheâsalaborerofmanyyears.Sheisfarfromweak.Iâveseenhermanhandleallthreeofmybrothers,andIknowfirsthandsheâllwrestlemeintobedifsheneedsto.
âMom,therearethingsIneedtosayââ
âYourdebriefingisateighta.m.tomorrow.Sayitthen.â
ââandIwanttoknowwhatImissedââ
âTheGuardoverthrewCorvium.TheyâreworkingonPiedmont.Thatâsallanyonedownstairsknows.âShespeaksrapid-fire,herdingmetowardthebed.
IlooktoGisaforhelp,butshebacksaway,handsraised.
âIhavenâtspokentoKilornââ
âHeunderstands.â
âCalââ
âIsabsolutelyfinewithyourfatherandbrothers.Hecanstormthecapital;hecanhandlethem.â
Withasmirk,IimagineCalsandwichedbetweenBreeandTramy.
âBesides,hedideverythinghecould tobringyouback tous,âsheaddswithawink.âTheywonâtgivehimanytrouble,nottonightatleast.Nowgetinthatbedandshutyoureyes,orIâllshutthemforyou.â
Thelightshissintheirbulbs;thewiringintheroomsnakesalongelectriclinesoflight.Noneofitcomparestothestrengthofmymotherâsvoice.Idoasshesays,clamberingundertheblanketsoftheclosestbed.Tomysurprise,shegetsinnexttome,huggingmeclose.
Forthethousandthtimetonight,shekissesmycheek.âYouârenotgoinganywhere.â
Inmyheart,Iknowthatâsnottrue.
Thiswarisfarfromwon.
Butatleastitcanbetruefortonight.
Birds in Piedmont make a horrible racket. They chirp and trill outside thewindows, and I imagine droves of them perched in the trees. Itâs the onlyexplanationforsuchnoise.Theyaregoodforonething,though:Ineverheardbirds inArcheon.Evenbefore Iopenmyeyes, Iknowyesterdaywasnotadream.IknowwhereIâmwakingup,andwhatIâmwakingupto.
Momisanearlyriserbyhabit.Gisaisnâthereeither,butIâmnotalone.Ipokeoutthebedroomdoortofindalankyboysittingatthetopofthestairs,hislegsstretchedoutoverthesteps.
Kilorngetstohisfeetwithagrin,hisarmsspreadwide.ThereâsadecentchanceIâllfallapartfromallthehugging.
âTookyou longenough,âhesays.Evenafter sixmonthsofcaptureandtorment,hewonât treatmewithkidgloves.We fallback intoouroldwayswithblindingspeed.
Inudgehimintheribs.âNothankstoyou.â
âYeah,militaryraidsandtacticalstrikesarenâtexactlymyspecialty.â
âYouhaveaspecialty?â
âWell,besidesbeinganuisance?âhelaughs,walkingmedownstairs.Potsand pans clatter somewhere, and I follow the smell of frying bacon. In thedaylight, therowhouseseemsfriendly,andoutofplaceforamilitarybase.Butter-yellowwallsandfloridpurplerugswarmthecentralhallway,butitissuspiciouslybareofdecorations.Nailholesdotthewallpaper.Maybeadozenpaintingshavebeenremoved.Theroomswepassâasalonandastudyâarealsosparselyfurnished.Eithertheofficerwholivedhereemptiedhishome,orsomeoneelsediditforhim.
Stopit,Itellmyself.Iâveearnedtherightnottothinkaboutbetrayalsorbackstabbingforonedamnday.Youâresafe;youâresafe;itâsover.Irepeatthewordsinmyhead.
Kilornputsanarmout,stoppingmeatthedoortothekitchen.Heleansforward into my space, until I canât avoid his eyes. Green as I remember.Theynarrowinconcern.âYouâreokay?â
Usually, Iwould nod, smile away the insinuation. Iâve done it somanytimesbefore.Ipushedawaythepeopleclosesttome,thinkingIcouldbleedalone.Iwonâtdothatanymore.Itmademehateful,horrific.ButthewordsIwanttopouroutofmewonâtcome.NotforKilorn.Hewouldnâtunderstand.
âStartingtothinkIneedawordthatmeansyesandnoatthesametime,âIwhisper,lookingatmytoes.
Heputsahandtomyshoulder. Itdoesnât linger.Kilornknowsthe linesIâvedrawnbetweenus.Hewonâtpushpastthem.âIâmherewhenyouneedtotalk.âNotif,when.âIâllhoundyouuntilyoudo.â
Iofferashakygrin.âGood.âThesoundofcookingfatcracklesontheair.âIhopeBreehasnâteatenitall.â
Mybrother certainly tries.WhileTramyhelps her cook,Bree hovers atMomâsshoulder,pickingstripsofbaconrightoutofthehotgrease.Sheswats
himawayasTramygloats,smirkingoverapanofeggs.Theyârebothadults,but they seem like children, like I remember them.Gisa sits at the kitchentable,watchingoutofthecornerofhereye.Doingherbesttoremainproper.Shedrumsherfingersonthewoodentabletop.
Dad ismore restrained, leaning against a wall of cabinets, his new legangledoutinfrontofhim.Hespotsmebeforetheothersandoffersasmall,privatesmile.Despitethecheerfulscene,sadnesseatsathisedges.
Hefeelsourmissingpiece.Theonethatwillneverbefound.
Iswallowaroundthelumpinmythroat,pushingtheghostofShadeaway.
Cal is also noticeably absent. Not that he will stay away long. Heâsprobablysleeping,orperhapsplanningthenextstageofâŠwhateverâsgoingon.
âOtherpeopleneed toeat,â I scoldas IpassBree.Quickly, I snatch thebaconfromhisfingers.Sixmonthshavenotdulledmyreflexesorimpulses.IgrinathimasItakeaseatnexttoGisa,nowtwistingherlonghairintoaneatbun.
Breemakesafaceashesits,aplateinhandpiledwithbutteredtoast.Heneveratethiswellinthearmy,oronTuck.Liketherestofus,heâstakingfulladvantageofthefood.âYeah,Tramy,savesomefortherestofus.â
âLikeyoureallyneedit,âTramyretorts,pinchingBreeâscheek.Theyendupslappingeachotheraway.Children,Ithinkagain.Andsoldierstoo.
Both of themwere conscripted, and both of them survived longer thanmost. Some might call it luck, but theyâre strong, both of them. Smart inbattle, if not at home. Warriors lie beneath their easy grins and boyishbehavior.FornowIâmgladIdonâthavetoseeit.
Momservesme first.Noonecomplains,not evenBree. Idig intoeggsandbacon,aswellasacupofrich,hotcoffeewithcreamandsugar.ThefoodisfitforaSilvernoble,andIshouldknow.âMom,howdidyougetthis?âIask aroundbites of egg.Gisamakes a face,wrinkling her nose at the foodlollingaboutinmymouthasIspeak.
âDailydeliveryforthestreet,âMomreplies,tossingabraidofgray-and-brown hair over her shoulder. âThis row is all Guard officers, rankingofficials,andsignificantindividualsâandtheirfamilies.â
ââSignificant individualsâ meaningâŠâ I try to read between the lines.âNewbloods?â
Kilornanswers instead.âIf theyâreofficers,yeah.Butnewbloodrecruitslive in the barrackswith the rest of the soldiers.Thought itwas better thatway.Lessdivision,lessfear.Weârenevergoingtohaveaproperarmyifmostofthetroopsareafraidofthepersonnexttothem.â
Inspiteofmyself,Ifeelmyeyebrowsriseinsurprise.
âToldyouIhadaspecialty,âhewhisperswithawink.
Mymother beams, putting the next plate of food in front of him. Sheruffleshishairfondly,settingthetawnylocksonend.Heawkwardlytriestosmooth them down. âKilornâs been improving relations between thenewbloods and the rest of theScarletGuard,â she saysproudly.He tries tohidetheresultingblushwithahand.
âWarren,ifyouârenotgoingtoeatthatââ
Dadreactsfasterthananyofus,rappingTramyâsoutstretchedhandwithhiscane.âManners,boy,âhegrowls.Thenhesnatchesbaconfrommyownplate.âGoodstuff.â
âBestIâveeverhad,âGisaagrees.Shedaintilybuteagerlypicksateggssprinkledwithcheese.âMontfortknowstheirfood.â
âPiedmont,âDadcorrects.âFoodandstoresarefromPiedmont.â
Ifiletheinformationawayandwinceattheinstincttodoso.Iâmsousedtodissecting thewordsofeveryonearoundme that Ido itwithout thought,eventomyfamily.Youâresafe;youâresafe;itâsover.Thewordsrepeatinmyhead.Theirrhythmlevelsmeoutabit.
Dadstillrefusestosit.
âSohowdoyouliketheleg?âIask.
He scratches his head, fidgeting. âWell, Iwonât be returning it anytimesoon,âhesayswithararesmile.âTakesgettingusedto.Skinhealerâshelpingwhenshecan.â
âThatâsgood.Thatâsreallygood.â
IwasnevertrulyashamedofDadâsinjury.Itmeanthewasaliveandsafefrom conscription. So many other fathers, Kilornâs included, died for anonsensewarwhilemine lived.Themissing legmadehimsour,discontent,resentful of his chair. He scowled more than he smiled, a bitter hermit tomost.But hewas a livingman.He toldmeonce itwas cruel to give hopewherenoneshouldbe.Hehadnohopeofwalkingagain,ofbeingthemanhewasbefore.Nowhestandsasproofoftheoppositeandthathope,nomatter
howsmall,nomatterhowimpossible,canstillbeanswered.
InMavenâsprison, Idespaired. Iwasted. Icounted thedaysandwishedfor an ending, nomatter the kind. But I had hope. Foolish, illogical hope.Sometimes a single flicker, sometimes a flame. It also seemed impossible.Justlikethepathahead,throughwarandrevolution.Wecouldalldieinthecomingdays.Wecouldbebetrayed.OrâŠwecouldwin.
Idonâtevenknowwhatthatlookslike,orwhatexactlytohopefor.IjustknowthatImustkeepmyhopealive.ItistheonlyshieldIhaveagainstthedarknessinside.
Ilookaroundatthekitchentable.OnceIlamentedthatmyfamilydidnotknowme, didnât understandwhat I hadbecome. I thoughtmyself separate,alone,isolated.
Icouldnotbemorewrong.Iknowbetternow.IknowwhoIam.
IamMareBarrow.NotMareena,notthelightninggirl.Mare.
Myparentsquietlyoffertoaccompanymetothedebriefing.Gisadoestoo.Irefuse.Thisisamilitaryundertaking,allbusiness,allforthecause.Itwillbeeasierformetorecallindetailifmymotherisnâtholdingmyhand.Icanbestronginfrontof theColonelandhisofficers,butnother.Shemakesit tootemptingtobreak.Weaknessisacceptable,forgivable,aroundfamily.Butnotwhenlivesandwarshanginthebalance.
The kitchen clock ticks eight a.m., and right on time an open-toppedtransportrollsupoutsidetherowhouse.Igoquietly.OnlyKilornfollowsmeout,butnottojoinme.Heknowshehasnopartinthis.
âSowhatwillyoudowithyourselffortheday?âIaskasIwrenchopenthebrass-knobbeddoor.
Heshrugs.âIhadascheduleupinTrial.Bitoftraining,roundswiththenewbloods, lessonswithAda.After I came downherewith your parents, IfiguredIâllkeepitup.â
âAschedule,â I snort, steppingout into the sunshine. âYousound likeaSilverlady.â
âWell,whenyouâreasgood-lookingasIamâŠ,âhesighs.
Itâsalreadyhot,thesunblazingabovetheeasternhorizon,andIstripoffthethinjacketMomforcedmeinto.Leafytreeslinethestreet,disguisingthemilitarybaseasanupper-classneighborhood.Mostof thebrickrowhouseslookempty,theirwindowsdarkandshuttered.Atthebottomofthesteps,my
transport waits. The driver behind the wheel pushes down his sunglasses,eyeingmeover thebrim. I shouldhaveknown.Cal gaveme all the time Ineededwithmyfamily,buthecouldnâtstayawaylong.
âKilorn,âhecalls,wavingahand ingreeting.Kilorn returns thegesturewitheaseandasmile.Sixmonthshaskilledtheirrivalryattheroot.
âIâllfindyoulater,âItellhim.âComparenotes.â
Henods.âSurething.â
EventhoughitâsCal in thedriverâsseat,drawingmein likeabeacon, Iwalkslowlytothetransport.Inthedistance,airjetenginesroar.Everystepisanotherinchclosertorelivingsixmonthsofcaptivity.IfIturnedaround,noonewouldblameme.Butitwouldonlyprolongtheinevitable.
Calwatches,hisfacegriminthedaylight.Heextendsahand,helpingmeintothefrontseatlikeIâmsomekindofinvalid.Theenginepurrs,itselectricheartacomfortandareminder.Imaybescared,butIâmnotweak.
Withone lastwave toKilorn,Calguns theengineand spins thewheel,driving us down the street. The breeze ruffles his roughly cut hair,highlightingunevenspots.
Irunahanddownthebackofhishead.âDidyoudothisyourself?â
Heflushessilver.âItried.âLeavingonehandonthewheel,hetakesmineintheother.âAreyougoingtobeallrightforthis?â
âIâll get through it. I suppose your reports have most of the importantparts.Ijusthavetofillintheholes.âThetreesthinoneithersideofus,wheretheofficerstreethitsalargeravenue.Totheleftisthelandingfield.Weturnright,thetransportarcingsmoothlyoverpavement.âAndhopefullysomeonestartsfillingmeinonallâŠthis.â
âWith these people, you have to demand answers rather than wait forthem.â
âHaveyoubeendemanding,YourHighness?â
Hechuckleslowinhisthroat.âTheycertainlythinkso.â
Itâsafive-minutedrivetoourdestination,andCaldoeshisbesttogetmeuptospeed.TherewasaheadquartersalongtheLakelanderbordernearTrial.All the Colonelâs soldiers evacuated north in anticipation of a raid on theisland. They spent months belowground, in freezing bunkers, while FarleyandtheColoneltradedcommunicationswithCommandandpreparedfortheirnexttarget.Corvium.Calâsvoicebreaksalittlewhenhedescribesthesiege.
He led the strike himself, taking the walls in a surprise raid and then thefortress city, block by block. Itâs possible he knew the soldiers he wasfighting. Itâs possiblehekilled friends. I donât prod at eitherwound. In theend, they completed the siege, removing the last Silver officers byofferingthemsurrenderorexecution.
âMostareheldhostagenow,someransomedbackto theirfamilies.Andsomechosedeath,âhemurmurs,hisvoicetrailingoff.Heglancesoveratme,justforamoment,hiseyeshiddenbehindlensesofdarkenedglass.
âIâmsorry,âImurmur,andImeanit.NotjustbecauseCalisinpain,butbecauseIhavelongsincelearnedhowgraythisworldis.âWillJulianbeatthedebriefing?â
Calsighs,gratefulforthechangeinsubject.âIdonâtknow.Thismorninghe said the Montfort brass have been very accommodating where he isconcernedâgivinghimaccesstothebasearchives,alaboratory,allthetimehewantstocontinuehisnewbloodstudies.â
IcanthinkofnobetterrewardforJulianJacos.Timeandbooks.
âButtheymightnotbetookeenonlettingasingerneartheirleader,âCaladds,thoughtful.
âUnderstandable,â I reply. While our abilities are more destructive,Julianâs ability tomanipulate is just as deadly. âSo, how longhasMontfortbeenatthis?â
âIdonâtknoweither,âhesays,hisannoyanceobvious.âButtheytookrealnotice afterCorvium.Andnow,withMavenâs alliancewith theLakelands?Heâsunitingtoo,ontherebellion,âheexplains.âMontfortandtheGuarddidthesame.Insteadofgunsandfood,Montfortstartedsendingsoldiers.Reds,newbloods. They already had a plan to spring you out of Archeon. Pincermove.Us fromTrial,Montfort fromPiedmont.Theycanorganize, Iâllgivethemthat.Theyjustneededtherightmoment.â
Iscoff.âTheypickedahellofamoment.âGunfireandbloodshedcloudmythoughts.âAllthatforme.Seemsstupid.â
Calâs grip onmy hand tightens. Hewas raised to be the perfect Silversoldier.Irememberhismanuals,hisbooksonmilitarytactics.Victoryatanycost, theysaid.Andheusedtobelieve it.JustasIusedto thinknothingonearthcouldmakemegobacktoMaven.
âEither they had another target in Archeon, or Montfort really, reallywantsyou,âCalmuttersasthetransportslows.
We stop in front of another brick building, its front decorated bywhitecolumnsanda long,wrappingporch.AgainI thinkofFortPatriot, itsgatesdecorated in foreboding bronze. Silvers like beautiful things, and this is noexception. Flowering vines crawl up the columns, blooming with purpleburstsofwisteriaandfragranthoneysuckle.Soldiersinuniformwalkbeneaththe plants, keeping to the shade. I spot Scarlet Guard in their mismatchedclothesandredscarves,Lakelandersinblue,andacrawlingmessofofficialMontfortgreen.Mystomachflips.
TheColonelmarchesouttomeetus,blissfullyalone.
Hestarts inbefore Imanage togetdown from the transport. âYouâllbemeetingwithme,twoMontfortgenerals,andoneCommandofficer.â
BothCalandIjolt,eyeswide.âCommand?âIbalk.
âYes.âTheColonelâsgoodeyeflashes.Hespinsonhisheel,forcingustokeepup.âLetâsjustsaywheelsareinmotion.â
I rollmy eyes, already exasperated. âHowabout you just saywhat youmean?â
âProbablybecausehedoesnâtknow,ârepliesafamiliarvoice.
Farleyleansintheshadowofoneofthecolumns,armscrossedhighoverher chest. I gape, jaw dropping open. Because she is hugely, hilariouslypregnant.Herbellystrainsagainstanaltereduniformofatiedshiftdressandbaggy pants. I wouldnât be surprised if she gave birth in the next thirtyseconds.
âAhâisallIcanthinktosay.
Shelooksalmostamused.âDothemath,Barrow.â
Ninemonths.Shade.Her reactionon thecargo jetwhenI toldherwhatJonsaid.Theanswertoyourquestionisyes.
Ididnâtknowwhatitmeant,butshedid.Shehadhersuspicions.Andshelearnedshewaspregnantwithmybrotherâschild less thananhourafterhewas murdered. Each revelation is a kick in the gut. Equal parts joy andsorrow.Shadehasachildâoneheâllnevergettosee.
âCanât believe no one thought to tell you,â Farley continues, throwingpointedglaresatCal,whoshufflesawkwardly.âCertainlyhadthetime.â
Inmyshock,allIcandoisagree.NotjustCal,butmymother,therestofthefamily.âEveryoneknewaboutthis?â
âWell,nousearguingaboutitnow,âFarleypusheson,heavingherselfoffthe column. Even in the Stilts, most women take to bed at this stage ofpregnancy,butnother.Shekeepsagunatherhip,holsteredinopenwarning.A pregnant Farley is still a dangerous Farley. Probablymore so. âI have afeelingyouwanttogetthisoverasquicklyaspossible.â
When she turns her back, leading us in, I hitCal in the ribs.Twice forgoodmeasure.
Hegritshisteeth,breathingthroughtheblow.âSorry,âhegrumbles.
Theinteriorofwhatmustbethebasecommandbuildingseemsmorelikeamansion.Staircasesspiraloneithersideoftheentrancehall,connectingtoagallery above linedbywindows.Crownmolding lines the ceiling,which ispainted to look like the wisteria outside. The floor is parquet wood,alternatingplanksofmahogany,cherry,andoakinintricatedesigns.Butlikeintherowhouses,anythingthatcanâtbebolteddownisgone.Blankspacesline the walls, while alcoves meant for sculptures or busts hold guardsinstead.Montfortguards.
Upclose,theiruniformsarebettermadethananythingtheScarletGuardortheColonelâsLakelanderswear.MoreliketheuniformsofSilverofficers.Theyâre mass-producedâsturdyâwith badges, insignia, and the whitetriangleemblazonedontheirarms.
CalobservesascloselyasIdo.Henudgesme,noddingupthestairs.Inthegallery,nofewer thansixMontfortofficerswatchusgo.Theyaregray-haired,battle-worn,withenoughmedalstosinkaship.Generals.
âCamerastoo,âIwhispertohim.InmyheadIpickthemout,notingeachelectricsignaturewhilewepassthroughtheentrancehall.
Despite the emptywalls and sparsedecorations, the finepassagesmakemy skin crawl. I keep tellingmyself thepersonnext tome isnât oneof theArvens.ThisisnâtWhitefire.Myabilityisproofofthat.Nooneiskeepingmeprisoner.IwishIcoulddropmyguard.Itâssecondnatureatthispoint.
ThemeetingroomremindsmeofMavenâscouncilchamber.Ithasalong,polishedtableandfinelyupholsteredchairs,anditâsilluminatedbyabankofwindowslookingoutoveranothergarden.Againthewallsareempty,exceptforasealpainteddirectlyonthewall.Yellowandwhitestripes,withapurplestarinthecenter.Piedmont.
Weârethefirsttoarrive.IexpecttheColoneltotakeaseatattheheadofthetable,buthedoesnât,electingforthechaironitsrightinstead.Therestof
usfileinnexttohim,facingtheemptysideweleaveopenfortheMontfortofficersandCommand.
TheColonellookson,perplexed.HewatchesasFarleysits,hisgoodeyecoldandsteely.âCaptain,youdonâthaveclearanceforthis.â
CalandIexchangeglances,eyebrowsraised.FarleyandtheColonelclashoften.Atleastthathasnâtchanged.
âOh,wereyounotinformed?âshereplies,pullingafoldedstripofpaperfromher pocket. âSo sad how that happens.âWith a flick of her hand, sheslidesthepaperovertotheColonel.
Heunfoldsitgreedily,eyesscanningapageofharsh-typedletters.Itisnâtlong, but he stares at it for a while, not believing the words. Finally hesmoothsthemessageagainstthetable.âThiscanâtberight.â
âCommandwantsarepresentativeat the table.âFarleygrins.Shesplaysherhandswide.âHereIam.â
âThenCommandmadeamistake.â
âIâmCommandnow,Colonel.Thereisnomistake.â
Command rules the ScarletGuard, the hub of a very secretivewheel. Ihaveonlyheardwhispersoftheirexistence,butenoughtoknowtheycontroltheentiretyofavast,complicatedoperation.IftheymadeFarleyoneofthem,doesthismeanthattheGuardistrulycomingoutoftheshadowsâorisitjustFarleytheywant?
âDiana,youcanâtââ
She bristles, flushing red. âBecause Iâm pregnant? I assure you, I canhandle two tasks at once.â If not for their uncanny resemblance, both inappearanceandattitude,itwouldbeeasytoforgetthatFarleyistheColonelâsdaughter.âDoyouwanttopressthematterfurther,Willis?â
Heclenchesa fiston themessage,knuckles turningbonewhite.Butheshakeshishead.
âGood.AnditâsGeneralnow.Actaccordingly.â
AretortdiesintheColonelâsthroat,givinghimastrangledlook.Withasatisfiedsmirk,Farleyretrievesthemessageandtucksitaway.ShenotesCalwatching,justasconfusedasIam.
âYouârenottheonlyrankingofficerintheroomnow,Calore.â
âIsupposenot.Congratulations,âheadds,offeringatightsmile.
It takesheroffguard.Afterherfatherâsopenhostility,shedidnâtexpectsupportfromanyone,leastofallthebegrudgingSilverprince.
TheMontfortgeneralsenterfromanotherdoor,resplendentintheirdarkgreenuniforms.OneIsawinthegallery.Shehasanevenbobofwhitehair,waterybrowneyes,andlong,flutteringlashes.Sheblinksrapidly.Theother,adark-hairedwoman,brown-skinned,lookstobeaboutfortyandbuiltlikeanox.Shetipsherheadatme,asifgreetingafriend.
âIknowyou,âIsay,tryingtoplaceherface.âHowdoIknowyou?â
She doesnât answer, turning her head over her shoulder towait for onemoreperson,agray-hairedmaninplainclothing.ButIbarelynoticehimatall, distracted by his companion.Evenwithout his house colors, dressed insimplegrays insteadofhisusual fadedgold, Julian ishard tomiss. I feelaburst of warmth at the sight of my old teacher. Julian inclines his head,offeringa small smile ingreeting.He looksbetter than Iâve ever seenhim,evenwhenIfirstmethimatthesummerpalace.Thenhewasworn,weariedbyacourtofenemies,hauntedbyadeadsister,abrokenSaraSkonos,andhisown doubt. Though his hair is now more gray than brown, his wrinklesdeeper, he seemsvibrant, alive, unburdened.Whole.TheScarletGuardhasgivenhimpurpose.AndSaratoo,Ibet.
HispresencesoothesCalevenmorethanme.Herelaxesabitatmyside,givinghisuncle theslightestnod.Bothofusseewhat this is,whatkindofmessageMontfort is trying to send.Theydonot hateSilversâand theydonotfearthem.
The otherman shuts the door behind him as Julian takes a seat, firmlyplanting himself on our side of the table.Even thoughheâs six feet tall, heseemssmallwithoutauniformofhisown.Instead,hewearscivilianclothing.Asimplebuttonedshirt,pants,shoes.NoweaponsthatIcansee.Hehasredblood, thatâs certain, judging by the pink undertones in his sandy skin.NewbloodorRed, Idonâtknow.Everythingabouthimisdecidedlyneutral,pleasantlyaverage,andunassuming.Heseemsablankpage,eitherbynatureordesign.Thereâsnothingelsetoindicatewhoorwhathemightbe.
ButFarleyknows.Shemovestogettoherfeet,andhewavesherdown.
âNoneedforthat,General,âhesays.Inaway,heremindsmeofJulian.Theyhavethesamewildeyes,theonlythingremarkableabouthim.Hisareangled, darting back and forth, taking in everything for observation andunderstanding.âItâsapleasure to finallymeetyouall,âheadds,nodding toeachofusinturn.âColonel,MissBarrow,YourHighness.â
Underthetable,Calâsfingerstwitchagainsthisleg.Noonecallshimthatanymore.Notpeoplewhomeanit.
âAndwhoareyou,exactly?âtheColonelasks.
âOf course,â theman replies. âIâm sorry I could not come sooner.Myname is Dane Davidson, sir. I serve as premier to the Free Republic ofMontfort.â
Calâsfingerstwitchagain.
âThankyouallforcoming.Iâvewantedthismeetingforsometimenow,âDavidson continues, âand I think that together,we can achievemagnificentthings.â
Thismanis theleaderof theentirecountry.Heâstheonewhoaskedforme,whowantedmetojoinhim.Hashedoneallthistogethisway?Likehisgeneralâsface,hisnameringsadistantbell.
âThis is General Torkins.â Davidson gestures between them. âAndGeneralSalida.â
Salida.Idonâtknowhername.ButnowIâmcertainIâveseenherbefore.
The sturdily built general notes my confusion. âI did somereconnaissance,MissBarrow.IpresentedmyselftoKingMavenwhenhewasinterviewing ArdentâI mean newbloods. You may remember.â Todemonstrateshesweepsherhandatthetable.No,notat.Through.Like itâsmadeofnothingâorsheis.
The memory snaps into focus. She displayed her abilities and wasacceptedintoMavenâsâprotection,âalongwithmanyothernewbloods.Oneofthem,inherfear,exposedNannytotheentirecourt.
Istareather.âYouweretherethedayNannyâthenewbloodwhocouldchangeherfaceâdied.â
Salida looks truly sorry. She dips her head. âIf I had known, if I couldhavedonesomething,trulyIwouldhave.ButMontfortandtheScarletGuarddidnot communicateopenly, not then.Wedidnât knowall youroperations,andtheydidnotknowours.â
âNolonger.âDavidsonremainsstanding,hisfistsbracedagainstthetable.âTheScarletGuardhasneedforsecrecy,yes,but Iâmafraid itwillonlydomoreharmthangoodfromhereonward.Toomanymovingpartsnottogetineachotherâsway.â
Farley shifts in her seat. Either she wants to disagree or the chair is
uncomfortable.Butsheholdshertongue,lettingDavidsoncarryon.
âSo,intheinterestoftransparency,IfeltitbestforMissBarrowtodetailhercaptivity,asmuchasshecan,toallparties.Andafterward,Iwillansweranyandallquestionsyoumayhaveaboutmyself,mycountry,andourroadahead.â
InJulianâshistories,therewererecordsofrulerswhowereelected,ratherthan born. They earned their crowns with an array of attributesâsomestrength,someintelligence,someemptypromisesandintimidation.Davidsonrulestheso-calledFreeRepublic,andhispeoplechosehimtolead.Basedonwhat, I canât say yet.He has a firmwayof speaking, a natural conviction.Andheâsobviouslyverysmart.Nottomentionheisthekindofmanwhogetsmoreattractivewith theyears.Icouldeasilyseehowpeoplewantedhimtorule.
âMissBarrow,wheneveryouâreready.â
Tomysurprise,thefirsthandtoholdmineisnotCalâs,butFarleyâs.Shegivesmeareassuringsqueeze.
Istartatthebeginning.TheonlyplaceIcanthinktostart.
My voice breaks when I detail how I was forced to remember Shade.Farley lowers her eyes, her pain just as deep asmine. I soldier through, toMavenâs growing obsession, the boy king who twisted lies into weapons,usingmyfaceandhiswordsto turnasmanynewbloodsaspossibleagainsttheScarletGuard.Allthewhilehisfrayingedgesbecomingmoreapparent.
âHesayssheleftholes,âI tell them.âThequeen.Shetoyedinhishead,takingpiecesaway,puttingpiecesin, jumblinghimup.Heknowsthatheiswrong,buthebelieveshimselfonapath,andhewonâtturnfromit.â
Acurrentofheatripples.Atmyside,Calkeepshisfacestill,eyesboringholesinthetable.Itreadcarefully.
Hismothertookawayhis loveforyou,Cal.Helovedyou.Heknowshedid.Itjustisnâtthereanymore,anditneverwillbe.ButthosewordsarenotforDavidsonortheColonelorevenFarleytohear.
TheMontfort people seemmost interested in the Piedmont visit. TheyperkupatthementionofDaraeusandAlexandret,andIwalkthemthroughtheirvisitstepbystep.Theirquestioning,theirmanner,downtowhatkindofclothestheywore.WhenImentionMichaelandCharlotta,themissingprinceandprincess,Davidsonpurseshislips.
AsIspeak,spillingmoreandmoreofmyordeal,anumbnesswashesoverme. I detach from thewords.My voice drones. The house rebellion. Jonâsescape.Mavenâsneardeath.Thesightofsilverbloodgushingfromhisneck.Anotherinterrogation,mineandtheHavenwomanâs.ThatwasthefirsttimeIsaw Maven truly rattled, when Elaneâs sister pledged her allegiance to adifferent king. To Cal. It resulted in the exile of many members of court,possibleallies.
âItriedtoseparatehimfromHouseSamos.Iknewtheywerehisstrongestremainingally,soIplayedonhisweaknessforme.IfhemarriedEvangeline,Itoldhim,shewouldkillme.âPiecesmoveintoplaceasIspeakthem.Iflushat theimplicationthatIamthereasonforsuchadeadlyalliance.âI thinkitmayhaveconvincedhimtolooktotheLakelandsforadifferentbrideââ
Juliancutsmeoff.âVoloSamoswasalreadysearching foranexcuse todetach from Maven. Ending the betrothal was just the final straw. And Iassume the Lakelander negotiations were in play much longer than youthink.âHequirksathinsmile.Evenifheâslying,itmakesmefeelabitbetter.
Iracethroughmymemoriesofthecoronationtour,aglorifiedparadetohidehisdealingswiththeLakelanders.MavenâsrevocationoftheMeasures,the end of the LakelanderWar, his betrothal to Iris. Carefulmoves to buygoodwillfromhiskingdom,togetcreditforstoppingawarwithoutstoppingitsdestruction.
âSilver nobles cameback to court before thewedding, andMavenkeptme alone for most of the time. Then there was the wedding itself. TheLakelander alliance was sealed. The stormâyour stormâfollowed.MavenandIrisfledtohisescapetrain,butwewereseparated.â
Itwasonlyyesterday.Still, this feels like recallingadream.Adrenalinefogsthebattle,reducingmymemoriestocolorandpainandfear.âMyguardsdraggedmebackintothepalace.â
Ipause,hesitating.Evennow,IcanâtbelievewhatEvangelinedid.
âMare?âCalprods,hisvoiceandthebrushofhishandgentle.Heâsjustascuriousastherest.
Itâseasiertofacehimthantheothers.Healoneunderstandshowstrangemyescapewas.âEvangelineSamoscutusoff.Shekilled theArvenguardsandsheâŠshefreedme.Shesetmeloose.Istilldonâtknowwhy.â
Asilencedescendsoverthetable.Mygreatestrival,agirlwhothreatenedtokillme,apersonwithcoldsteelinsteadofaheart,isthereasonIâmhere.
Juliandoesnâttrytohidehissurprise,histhineyebrowsalmostdisappearinginto his hairline. But Cal doesnât look surprised at all. Instead, he draws adeepbreath,hischestrisingwiththemotion.Couldthatbeâpride?
Idonâthavetheenergytoguess.OrtodetailthewaySamsonMerandusdied,playingCalandmeoffeachotheruntilwebothburnedhimalive.
âYouknowtherest,âIfinish,exhausted.IfeellikeIâvebeentalkingfordecades.
PremierDavidsonstands,stretching.Iexpectmorequestions,butinsteadheopensacabinetandpoursmeaglassofwater.Idonâttouchit.Iâminanunfamiliarplacerunbyunfamiliarpeople.Ihaveverylittle trust left inme,andIwonâtwasteitonsomeoneIjustmet.
âOur turn?â Cal asks. He leans forward, eager to begin his owninterrogation.
Davidsoninclineshishead,lipstuggedintoflat,neutralline.âOfcourse.IassumeyouârewonderingwhatweâredoinghereinPiedmont,andonaroyalfleetbasetoboot?â
Whennoonestopshim,Davidsonlaunchesahead.
âAs you know, the Scarlet Guard began in the Lakelands, and filtereddown into Norta this past year. Colonel Farley and General Farley wereintegraltobothendeavors,andIthankthemfortheirhardwork.âHenodsattheminturn.âAttheordersofyourCommand,otheroperativesundertookasimilarcampaigninPiedmont.Infiltrate,control,overthrow.Here,infact,iswhere agents of Montfort first encountered agents of the Scarlet Guard,which,upuntil lastyear, seemeda fiction tous.But theScarletGuardwasveryreal,andwecertainlysharedagoal.Likeyourcompatriots,weseektooverthrowoppressiveSilverrulersandexpandourdemocraticrepublic.â
âItseemsyouâvedonesoalready.âFarleyindicatestheroom.
Calnarrowshiseyes.âHow?â
âWeconcentratedoureffortsonPiedmontduetoitsprecariousstructure.Princes and princesses rule their territories in shaky peace beneath a highprinceelectedfromtheirranks.Somecontrollargetractsofland,othersacityorsimplya fewmilesof farms.Power is fluid,alwayschanging.Currently,PrinceBrackenof theLowcountryis thehighprince, thestrongestSilver inPiedmont,withthelargestterritoryandthegreatestresources.âWithasweepof his hand, Davidson brushes his fingers against the seal on the wall. Hetracesthepurplestar.âThisisthegrandestofthethreemilitaryfortressesin
hispossession.Itisnowcededtoourpersonaluse.â
Calsucksinabreath.âYouâreworkingwithBracken?â
âHeâsworkingforus,âDavidsonrepliesproudly.
My mind spins out. A Silver royal, operating on behalf of a countrylooking to take everything away from him? For a moment, it soundsludicrous.ThenIrememberexactlywhoâssittingnexttome.
âTheprincesvisitedMavenonBrackenâsbehalf.Theyquestionedmeforhim.âInarrowmyeyesatthepremier.âYoutoldthemtodothat?â
General Torkins shifts in her seat and clears her throat. âDaraeus andAlexandretareswornalliestoBracken.Wehadnoknowledgeoftheircontactwith King Maven until one of them turned up dead in the middle of anassassinationattempt.â
âThankstoyou,weknowwhy,âSalidaadds.
âWhataboutthesurvivor?Daraeus.Heâsworkingagainstyouââ
Davidsonblinksslowly,hiseyesblankandunreadable.âHewasworkingagainstus.â
âOh,âImurmur,thinkingofallthewaysthePiedmontprincecouldhavebeenkilled.
âAnd theothers?âTheColonelpresseson.âMichaelandCharlotta.Themissingprinceandprincess.â
âBrackenâschildren,âJuliansays,hisvoicetight.
A sick feeling washes over me. âYou took his children? To make himcooperate?â
âAboyandgirlforcontrolofcoastalPiedmont?Foralltheseresources?âTorkinsscoffs,herwhitehairripplingassheshakesherhead.âAneasytrade.Thinkof the liveswewould lose fighting for everymile. Instead,MontfortandtheScarletGuardhaverealprogress.â
Myheartclenchesatthethoughtoftwochildren,Silverornot,beingheldcaptivetomaketheirfatherkneel.Davidsonreadsthesentimentonmyface.
âTheyârewelltakencareof.Providedfor.â
Overhead, the lights flicker like the beating ofmothâswings. âA cell isstillacell,nomatterhowyoudressitup,âIsneer.
He doesnât flinch. âAnd a war is a war,Mare Barrow. Nomatter how
goodyourintentionsmaybe.â
I shake my head. âWell, itâs too bad. Save all those soldiers here, butwaste themonrescuingoneperson.Was thataneasy trade too?Their livesformine?â
âGeneralSalida,whatwasthelastcount?âthepremierasks.
Shenods, reciting frommemory. âOf the onehundred and twoArdentsrecruited to theNortan army in the last fewmonths, sixtywere present asspecial guards to the wedding. All sixty were rescued, and debriefed lastnight.â
âDue in large part to the efforts ofGeneral Salida,whowas embeddedwiththem.âDavidsonclapsahandonhermeatyshoulder.âIncludingyou,wesavedsixty-oneArdentsfromyourking.Eachwillbegivenfood,shelter,andachoiceofresettlementorservice.Inaddition,wewereabletoraidalargeamountoftheNortanTreasury.Warsarenotcheap.Ransomingworthlessorweak prisoners only gets us so far.â He pauses. âDoes that answer yourquestion?â
Reliefmixeswith the undercurrent of dread I can never seem to shake.TheattackonArcheonwasnot just forme. Ihavenotbeenfreedfromonedictatoronlytobetakenbyanother.NoneofusknowswhatDavidsonmightdo,butheisnâtMaven.Hisbloodisred.
âOne more question for you, Iâm afraid,â Davidson pushes on. âMissBarrow,wouldyousaythekingofNortaisinlovewithyou?â
InWhitefire,Ismashedtoomanyglassesofwatertocount.Ifeeltheurgetodoitagain.âIdonâtknow.âAlie.Aneasylie.
Davidsonisnotsoeasilyswayed.Hiswildeyesflicker,amused.Catchingthelight,theyseemgoldthenbrownthengoldagain.Shiftingasthesunonafieldofswayingwheat.âYoucantakeawell-educatedguess.â
Hotangerlicksupinsidemelikeaflame.
âWhatMavenconsidersloveisnotloveatall.âIyankasidethecollarofmyshirt,revealingmybrand.TheMisplainasday.Somanyeyesbrushmyskin, taking in the raised edges of pearly scar tissue and burned flesh.Davidsonâsgazetracesthelinesoffire,andIfeelMavenâstouchinhisstare.
âEnough,âIbreathe,pushingtheshirtbackinplace.
Thepremiernods.âFine.Iwillaskyoutoââ
âNo, Imean Iâvehadenoughof this. IneedâŠtime.âHeavinga shaky
breath,Ipushbackfromthetable.Mychairscrapesagainstthefloor,echoinginthesuddensilence.Noonestopsme.Theyjustwatch,eyesfullofpity.Foronce,Iâmgladofit.Theirpityletsmego.
Anotherchairfollowsmine.IdonâtneedtolookbacktoknowitâsCal.
Asontheairjet,Ifeeltheworldstarttocloseandsuffocate,expandandoverwhelm.Thehalls, so likeWhitefire, stretch intoanendless line.Lightspulse overhead. I lean into the sensation, hoping itwill groundme.Youâresafe; youâre safe; itâs over.My thoughts spiral out of control, andmy feetmoveoftheirownvolition.Downthestairs,throughanotherdoor,outintoagardenchokedbyfragrantflowers.Theclearskyaboveisatorment.Iwantittorain.Iwanttobewashedclean.
Calâshandsfindthebackofmyneck.Thescarsachebeneathhistouch.Hiswarmthbleeds intomymuscles, trying tosootheaway thepain. Ipresstheheelsofmyhandstomyeyes.Ithelpsalittle.Icanâtseeanythinginthedarkness,includingMaven,hispalace,ortheboundsofthathorribleroom.
Youâresafe;youâresafe;itâsover.
Itwouldbeeasytostayinthedark,todrown.Slowly,Ilowermyhandsand forcemyself to lookat the sunlight. It takesmoreeffort than I thoughtpossible. I refuse to letMavenkeepmeprisoneronesecond longer thanhealreadyhas.Irefusetolivethisway.
âCanItakeyoubacktoyourhouse?âCalasks,hisvoicelow.Histhumbsworksteadycirclesatthespacebetweenneckandshoulders.âWecanwalk,giveyousometime.â
âIâmnotgivinghimanymoreofmytime.âAngry,Iturnaroundandraisemychin,forcingmyselftolookCalintheeye.Hedoesnâtmove,patientandunassuming.Allreaction,adjustingtomyemotions, lettingmeset thepace.Aftersolongatthemercyofothers,itfeelsgoodtoknowsomeonewillallowmemyownchoices.âIdonâtwanttogobackyet.â
âFine.â
âIdonâtwanttostayhere.â
âMeneither.â
âIdonâtwanttotalkaboutMavenorpoliticsorwar.â
My voice echoes in the leaves. I sound like a child, but Cal just nodsalong. For once, he seems a child too, with a ragged haircut and simpleclothing.Nouniform,nomilitarygear.Onlyathinshirt,pants,boots,andhis
bracelets.Inanotherlife,hemightlooknormal.Istareathim,waitingforhisfeatures to shift into Mavenâs. They never do. I realize he isnât quite Caleither.HehasmoreworrythanIthoughtpossible.Thelastsixmonthshaveruinedhimtoo.
âAreyouokay?âIaskhim.
Hisshouldersdroop,theslightestreleaseofsteeltension.Heblinks.Calisnotonetobetakenoffguard.IwonderifanyonehasbotheredtoaskhimthatquestionsincethedayIwastaken.
Afteralongpause,heheavesabreath.âIwillbe.Ihope.â
âSodoI.â
This garden was tended by greenwardens once, its many flower bedsspiraling in the overgrown remnants of intricate designs.Nature takes overnow, different blossoms and colors spilling into one another. Blending,decaying,dying,bloomingastheywish.
âRemindmeto troublebothofyouforsomebloodatamoreopportunemoment.â
IlaughoutloudatJulianâsgracelessrequest.Heidlesattheedgeofthegarden,kindlyintruding.NotthatImind.Igrinandcrossthegardenquickly,embracinghim.Hereturnstheactionhappily.
âThatwouldsoundstrangecomingfromanyoneelse,âItellhimasIpullback. Cal chuckles in agreement at my side. âBut sure, Julian. Feel free.Besides,Ioweyou.â
Juliantipshisheadinconfusion.âOh?â
âI foundsomebooksofyours inWhitefire.â Idonât lie,but Iâmcarefulwithmywords.NousehurtingCalmorethanheâsalreadybeen.HedoesnâtneedtoknowthatMavengavemethebooks.Iwonâtgivehimanymorefalsehopeforhisbrother.âHelpedpasstheâŠtime.â
While thementionofmy imprisonmentsobersCal,Juliandoesnât letuslinger in the pain. âThen you understand what Iâm trying to do,â he saysquickly.Hissmiledoesnâtreachhisdarkeningeyes.âDonâtyou,Mare?â
ââNotagodâschosen,butagodâscursed,ââImurmur,recallingthewordshescrawledinaforgottenbook.âYouâregoingtofigureoutwherewecamefrom,andwhy.â
Julianfoldshisarms.âIâmcertainlygoingtotry.â
TWENTY-TWOMare
Everymorning starts the sameway. I canât stay in the bedroom; the birdsalwayswakemeupearly.Good that theydo. Itâs toohot to run later in theday.ThePiedmontbasemakesforagoodtrack,though.Itiswellprotected,the boundaries guarded by bothMontfort andPiedmont soldiers. The latterareallReds,ofcourse.Davidsonknows thatBracken, thepuppetprince, islikelyquietlyschemingandwonâtletanyofhisSilverspastthegates.Infact,Ihavenât seenanySilversatall, except theones Ialreadyknow.Allof theabilitied are newbloods or Ardents, depending on who you speak to. IfDavidson has Silverswith him, serving equally in his FreeRepublic as hesaystheyare,Ihavenâtseenany.
Ilacemyshoestightly.Mistcurlsinthestreetoutside,hanginglowalongthebrickcanyon.Unlatchingthefrontdoor,Igrinwhenthecoolairhitsmyskin.Itsmellslikerainandthunder.
Asexpected,Calsitsonthebottomstep,legsstretchedoutonthenarrowsidewalk.Still,myheart lurches inmychest at the sightofhim.Heyawnsloudlyingreeting,almostunhinginghisjaw.
âComeon,âIchidehim,âthisissleepinginforasoldier.â
âThatdoesnâtmeanIdonâtprefertosleepinwhenIcan.âHestandswithexaggeratedannoyance,allbutstickinghistongueout.
âFeelfreetogobacktothatlittlebunkroomyouinsistonstayinginatthebarracks.Youknow,youâdgetabitmoretimeifyoumovedtoOfficersRowâorstoppedrunningwithmealtogether.âIshrugwithaslygrin.
Matchingmy smile, he tugson thehemofmy shirt, pullingme towardhim.âDonâtinsultmybunkroom,âhemutters,beforedroppingakissonmylips.Thenmyjaw.Thenmyneck.Eachtouchblooms,aburstoffirebeneathmyskin.
Reluctantly, I push his face away. âThere is a real possibility my dadshootsyoufromthewindowifyoukeepthisuphere.â
âRight,right.âHerecoversquickly,paling.IfIdidnâtknowanybetter,IâdsayCalwas actually scared ofmy father.The thought is comical.ASilver
prince,ageneralwhocanraiseinfernoswithaflickofhisfingers,afraidofalimpingoldRed.âLetâsstretch.â
We go through themotions,Calmore thoroughly than I.He scoldsmegently,findingsomethingwrongwitheverymove.âDonâtlungeintoit.Donâtrockbackandforth.Easy,slow.âButIâmeager,thirstytorun.Eventually,herelents.Withanodofhishead,heletsusbegin.
At first the pace is easy. I almost dance onmy toes, exhilarated by thesteps.Theyfeellikefreedom.Thefreshair,thebirds,themistbrushingpastwithdampfingers.Myeven,steadybreathandsteadilyrisingheartbeat.Thefirsttimeweranhere,Ihadtostopandcry,toohappytostopthetears.Calsetsagoodclip,keepingmefromsprintinguntilmylungsgiveout.Thefirstmile passes well enough, getting us to the perimeter wall. Half stone, halfchain link topped with razor wire, and a few soldiers patrol the far side.Montfortmen.They nod to each of us, used to our route after twoweeks.Othersoldiers jog in thedistance, runningtheirusual trainingexercises,butwedonât join them.They drill in rowswith shouting sergeants. Itâs not forme.Cal isdemandingenough.And thankfully,Davidsonhasnâtpressedmeon the whole âresettlement or serviceâ choice. In fact, I havenât seen himsincemydebriefing,eventhoughhenowlivesonbasewiththerestofus.
Thenexttwomilesaremoredifficult.Calpushesaharderpace.Itâshottertoday,eventhisearly,withcloudsgatheringoverhead.Asthemistburnsoff,Isweathardandsaltcollectsonmylips.Legspumping,Iwipemyfaceonthehemofmyshirt.Calfeelstheheattoo.Atmyside,hejustpullshisshirtoffentirely,tuckingitintothewaistbandoftighttrainingpants.Myfirstinstinctis towarnhimagainstsunburn.Thesecond is tostopandstareat thewell-definedmusclesofhisbareabdomen.Instead,Ifocusonthepathbeforeme,forcinganothermile.Another.Another.Hisbreathingbesidemeissuddenlyverydistracting.
We round the shallow forest separating the barracks and Officers Rowfrom the airfield, when thunder rumbles somewhere. A few miles away,certainly.Calputsoutanarmatthenoise,slowingmedown.Hesnapstofaceme, both hands gripping my shoulders as he leans down to my eye level.Bronzeeyesboreintomine,lookingforsomething.Thethunderrollsagain,closer.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asks, all concern. One hand strays to my neck tosoothethescarsburningredhotwithexertion.âCalmdown.â
âThatâsnotme.âItipmyheadtowardthedarkeningstormcloudswitha
smile. âThatâs just weather. Sometimes, when it gets too hot and humid,thunderstormscanââ
Helaughs.âOkay,Igetit.Thankyou.â
âRuining a perfectly good run,â I tut,movingmy hand to take his.Hegrins crookedly, smiling so wide it crinkles his eyes. As the storm movescloser,Ifeelitselectricheartthrumming.Mypulsesteadiestomatchit,butIpushawaytheseductivepurroflightning.Canâtletlooseastormsoclose.
Ihavenocontrolofrain,anditfallsinasuddencurtain,makingusbothyelp. Whatever bits of my clothes werenât covered in sweat quickly soakthrough.Thesuddencoldisashocktousboth,Calinparticular.
Hisbareskinsteams,wrappinghistorsoandarmsinathinlayerofgraymist.Raindropshisswhen theymakecontact, flash-boiling.Ashecalms, itstops, but he still pulses with warmth. Without thought, I tuck into him,shiveringdownmyspine.
âWeshouldgoback,âhemutters to the topofmyhead. I feelhisvoicereverberateinhischest,mypalmflattowherehisheartripsafasttempo.Itthundersundermytouch,instarkcontrasttohiscalmface.
Something stops me from agreeing. Another tug, deeper inside.SomewhereIcanâtname.
âShouldwe?âIwhisper,expectingtheraintoswallowmyvoice.
Hisarmstightenaroundme.Hedidnâtmissaword.
The trees are new growth, their leaves and branches not splayed wideenoughtooffertotalcoverfromthesky.Butenoughfromthestreet.Myshirtgoes first, landing inmud. I tosshis into themuck too, just soweâre even.Rainpeltsdowninfatdrops,eachoneacoldsurprisetorundownmynoseorspineormyarmswrappedaroundhisneck.Warmhandsdobattleacrossmyback, a delightful opposite to thewater.His fingerswalk the length ofmyspine, pressing into each vertebra. I do the same, counting his ribs. Heshivers,andnotfromtherain,asmynailsscrapealonghisside.Calrespondswithteeth.Theygrazethelengthofmyjawbeforefindingmyear.Ishutmyeyes for a second, unable to do anything but feel. Every sensation is afirework,athunderbolt,anexplosion.
Thethundergetscloser.Asifdrawntous.
I run my fingers through his hair, using it to pull him closer. Closer.Closer.Closer.Hetasteslikesaltandsmoke.Closer.Icanâtseemtogetclose
enough. âHaveyoudone thisbefore?â I shouldbeafraid,butonly thecoldmakesmeshiver.
Hetipshisheadback,andIalmostwhineinprotest.âNo,âhewhispers,lookingaway.Darklashesdriprain.Hisjawtightens,asifashamed.
So like Cal, to feel embarrassment for something like this. He likes toknow the end of a path, the answer to a question before asking. I almostlaugh.
This is a different kind of battle. Thereâs no training. And instead ofdonningarmor,wethrowtherestofourclothesaway.
Aftersixmonthsofsittingbyhisbrotherâsside,lendingmyentirebeingtoanevilcause,IhavenofearofgivingmybodytoapersonIlove.Eveninthemud.Lightningflashesoverheadandbehindmyeyes.Everynervesparkstolife.IttakesallmyconcentrationtokeepCalfromfeelingthewrongendofsuchthings.
His chest flushes beneathmy palms, risingwith reckless heat.His skinlooksevenpalernext tomine.Usinghis teeth,heunlatcheshisflamemakerbraceletsandtossesthemintotheundergrowth.
âThankmycolorsfortherain,âhemurmurs.
Ifeeltheopposite.Iwanttoburn.
Irefusetogobacktotherowhousecoveredinmud,andduetoCalâsoh-so-inconvenientlivingquarters,IcanâtcleanoffathisbarracksunlessIfeellikesharing the showerswithadozenother soldiers.Hepicks leavesoutofmyhair aswewalk toward the base hospital, a squat building overgrownwithivy.
âYoulooklikeashrub,âhesays,sportinganalmost-manicsmile.
âThatâsexactlywhatyouâresupposedtosay.â
Calnearlygiggles.âHowwouldyouknow?â
âIâugh,âIdeflect,duckingintotheentrance.
Thehospitalisnearlydesertedatthishour,staffedwithafewnursesanddoctorstooverseenexttonopatients.Healersmakethemmostlyirrelevant,neededonlyforlengthydiseasesorextremelycomplicatedinjuries.Wewalkthecinder-blockhallsalone,underharshfluorescent lightsandeasysilence.Mycheeksstillburnasmyminddoeswarwithitself.InstinctmakesmewanttoshoveCalintothenearestroomandlockthedoorbehindus.SensetellsmeIcannot.
I thought it would be different. I thought I would feel different. CalâstouchhasnoterasedMavenâs.Mymemoriesarestillthere,stilljustaspainfulastheywereyesterday.AndasmuchasItry,Ihavenotforgottenthecanyonthatwillalwaysstretchbetweenus.Nokindoflovecanerasehisfaults,justlikenonecanerasemine.
Anursewithanarmfulofblanketsroundsthecornerahead,herfeetablurover the tiledfloor.Shestopsat thesightofus,almostdropping the linens.âOh!âshesays.âYouârefast,MissBarrow!â
My flush intensifies asCalquickly turns a laugh intoa cough. âExcuseme?â
Shegrins.âWejustsentamessagetoyourhome.â
âUhâŠ?â
âFollowme,sweetie;Iâlltakeyoutoher.âThenursebeckons,shiftingthelinenstoherhip.CalandItradeconfusedglances.Heshrugsandtrotsafterher,oddlycarefree.Hisarmy-trainedcautionseemsfaraway.
The nurse chatters excitedly as we walk in her wake. Her accent isPiedmontese, making the words slower and sweeter. âShouldnât take long.Sheâs progressing quickly. Soldier to the bone, I suppose. Doesnât want towasteanytime.â
Ourhallwaydead-endsintoalargerward,muchbusierthantherestofthehospital.Widewindowslookoutonyetanothergarden,nowdarkandlashedwithrain.Piedmontcertainlyhasathingforflowers.Severaldoorsbranchoffoneitherside,leadingtoemptyroomsandemptybeds.Oneofthemisopen,andmorenursesflitinandout.AnarmedScarletGuardsoldierkeepswatch,although he doesnât look very alert. Itâs still early, and he blinks slowly,numbedbythequietefficiencyoftheward.
SaraSkonoslooksawakeenoughforthetwoofthem.BeforeIcancalltoher,sheraisesherhead,eyesgrayasthestormcloudsoutside.
Julianwasright.Shehasalovelyvoice.
âGoodmorning,âshesays.ItâsthefirsttimeIâveeverheardherspeak.
Idonâtknowherverywell,butweembraceanyway.Herhandsgrazemybare arms, sending shooting stars of relief into overworkedmuscles.Whensheleansback,shepullsanotherleafoutofmyhair, thendemurelybrushesmudfromthebackofmyshoulder.Hereyesflicker,notingthemudstreakingCalâslimbs.Nexttothesterileatmosphereofthehospital,withitsgleaming
surfaces and bright lights, we stick out like a pair of very sore and dirtythumbs.
Herlipstwistintotheslightestsmirk.âIhopeyouenjoyedyourmorningrun.â
Calclearshis throatandhisfaceflushes.Hewipesahandonhispants,butonlysucceedsinspreadingtheincriminatingmudevenmore.âYeah.â
âEachoftheseroomsisequippedwithabathroom,includingashower.Icanarrangeforchangesofclothesaswell.âSarapointswithherchin.âIfyoulike.â
Theprinceduckshisfacetohidehisflushasitdeepens.Heslinksaway,leavingatrailofwetfootprintsinhiswake.
Iremain,lettinghimgoonahead.Eventhoughshecanspeakagain,hertonguereturnedbyanotherskinhealer,Iassume,Saradoesnâttalkmuch.Shehasmoremeaningfulwaystocommunicate.
Shetouchesmyarmagain,gentlypushingmetowardtheopendoor.WithCalout of sight, I can think a littlemore clearly.Thedots connect, onebyone. Something tightens in my chest, an equal twist of sadness andexcitement.IwishShadewerehere.
Farleysitsupinthebed,herfaceredandswollen,asheenofsweatacrossherbrow.Thethunderoutsideisgone,meltingtoadownpourofendlessrainweepingdown thewindows.Shebarksout a laughat the sightofme, thenwincesatthesuddenaction.Saramovesquicklytoherside,puttingsoothinghandstoFarleyâscheeks.Anothernurseidlesagainstthewall,waitingtobeuseful.
âDid you run here or crawl through a sewer?â Farley asks over Saraâsfussing.
Imovedeeperintotheroom,carefulnottogetanythingelsedirty.âGotcaughtinthestorm.â
âRight.âShesoundsentirelyunconvinced.âWasthatCaloutside?â
Myblushsuddenlymatcheshers.âYes.â
âRight,âshesaysagain,drawingouttheword.
Hereyestickoverme,asifshecanreadthelasthalfhouronmyskin.Ifighttheurgetocheckmyselfforanysuspicioushandprints.Thenshereachesout,gesturingfor thenurse.SheleansdownandFarleywhispers inherear,herwordstoofastandlowformetocatch.Thenursenods,scurryingoffto
procurewhateverFarleywants.Shegivesmeatightsmileasshegoes.
âYoucancomecloser.Iâmnotgoingtoexplode.âSheglancesupatSara.âYet.â
Theskinhealeroffersawell-practiced,obligingsmile.âItwonâtbelongnow.â
Tentative, I take a few steps forward, until I can reach out and takeFarleyâs hand if I want to. A few machines blink at the side of her bed,pulsingslowlyandquietly.Theypullme in,hypnotic in theireven rhythm.Theache forShademultiplies.Weâregoing togetapieceofhimsoon,butheâs never coming back. Not even in a baby with his eyes, his name, hissmile.Ababyhewillnevergettolove.
âIthoughtaboutMadeline.â
Hervoicesnapsmeoutofthespiral.âWhat?â
Farleypicksatherwhitebedspread.âThatwasmysisterâsname.â
âOh.â
Last year, I found a photo of her family in theColonelâs office. Itwastakenyearsago,butFarleyandherfatherwereunmistakable,posingnexttoherequallyblondmotherandsister.Allof themhada similar look.Broad-shouldered,athletic,theireyesblueandsteely.Farleyâssisterwasthesmallestofthemall,stillgrowingintoherfeatures.
âOrClara.Aftermymother.â
Ifshewantstokeeptalking,Iâmheretolisten.ButIwonâtpry.SoIkeepquiet,waiting,lettingherleadtheconversation.âTheydiedafewyearsago.Back in theLakelands, at home.TheScarletGuardwasnât so careful then,andoneofouroperativeswascaughtknowingtoomuch.âPainflickersacrossher face now and then, both from thememory and her current state. âOurvillagewassmall,overlooked,unimportant.Theperfectplaceforsomethinglike theGuard togrow.Untilonemanbreathed itsnameunder torture.ThekingoftheLakelandspunishedushimself.â
The memory of him flashes through my mind. A small man, still andforebodingasthesurfaceofundisturbedwater.OrrecCygnet.âMyfatherandIwereawaywhenheraised theshoresof theHud,pullingwateroutof thebaytofloodourvillageandwipeitfromthefaceofhiskingdom.â
âTheydrowned,âImurmur.
Hervoiceneverwavers.âRedsacross thecountrywere inflamedby the
DrowningoftheNorthlands.Myfathertoldourstoryupanddownthelakes,intoomanyvillagesandtownstocount,andtheGuardflourished.âFarleyâsempty expression becomes a scowl. ââAt least they died for something,â heusedtosay.âWecouldonlybesolucky.ââ
âBettertoliveforsomething.âIagree,alessonIlearnedthehardway.
âYes,exactly.ExactlyâŠâShe trailsoff,but she takesmyhandwithoutflinching.âSohowareyouadjusting?â
âSlowly.â
âThatâsnotabadthing.â
âThefamilystaysaroundthehousemostdays.Julianvisitswhenheisnâtholedupinthebaselab.Kilornisalwaysaroundtoo.Nursescometoworkwithmydad,gethimreadjusted to the legâheâsprogressingbeautifullybytheway,âIadd,lookingbacktoSara,quietinhercorner.Shebeams,pleased.âHeâsgoodathidingwhathefeels,butIcantellheâshappy.Happyashecanbe.â
âIdidnâtaskaboutyourfamily. Iaskedaboutyou.âFarley tapsafingeragainst the insideofmywrist. Inspiteofmyself, I flinch, remembering theweight ofmanacles. âFor once, Iâm giving you permission to whine aboutyourself,lightninggirl.â
Isigh.
âIâIcanâtbealoneinroomswithlockeddoors.IcanâtâŠâSlowly,Ipullmywristfromhergrasp.âIdonâtlikethingsonmywrists.ItfeelstoomuchlikethemanaclesMavenusedtokeepmeaprisoner.AndIcanâtseeanythingforwhatitis.Ilookfordeceiteverywhere,ineveryone.â
Hereyesdarken.âThatâsnotnecessarilyaterribleinstinct.â
âIknow,âImutter.
âWhataboutCal?â
âWhatabouthim?â
âThe last timeIsawyou two togetherbeforeâall that,youwere inchesfromrippingeachothertoshreds.âAndinchesawayfromShadeâscorpse.âIassumethatâsallsettled.â
Irememberthemoment.Wehavenâtspokenofit.Myrelief,ourreliefatmyescapepusheditfarintothebackground,forgotten.ButasFarleyspeaks,Ifeel theoldwoundreopen.I trytorationalize.âHeisstillhere.Hehelped
theGuardraidArcheon;heledthetakeoverofCorvium.Ionlywantedhimtochooseaside,andheclearlyhas.â
Wordswhisperinmyear,tuggingonthebackofamemory.Chooseme.Choosethedawn.âHechoseme.â
âTookhimlongenough.â
Ihavetoagree.Butatleastthereâsnoturninghimfromthispathnow.CalistheScarletGuardâs.Mavenmadesurethecountryknewthat.
âIhavetogocleanup.IfmybrothersseemelikethisâŠâ
âGoahead.âFarleyshiftsagainstherraisedpillows,tryingtoadjustintoamorecomfortableposition.âYoumighthaveanieceornephewby the timeyougetback.â
Againthethoughtisbittersweet.Iforceasmile,forhersake.
âIwonderifthebabywillbeâŠlikeShade.âMymeaningisobvious.Notinappearance,but ability.Will their childbeanewblood likehewasand Iam?Isthathowthisevenworks?
Farley just shrugs, understanding. âWell, it hasnât teleported out of meyet.Sowhoknows?â
Atthedoor,hernursereturns,holdingashallowcup.Imovebacktoletherpass,butsheapproachesme,notFarley.âThegeneralaskedmetogetyouthis,âshesays,holdingoutthecup.Initisasinglepill.White,unassuming.
âYourchoice,âFarleysaysfromthebed.Hereyesaregraveasherhandscradleherstomach.âIthoughtyoushouldhavethat,atleast.â
Idonâthesitate.Thepillgoesdowneasily.
Sometimelater, Ihaveaniece.Momrefuses to letanyoneelseholdClara.She claims to see Shade in the newborn, even though thatâs practicallyimpossible. The little girl looks more like a wrinkled red tomato than anybrotherofmine.
Out in theward, the restof theBarrowscongregate in their excitement.Calisgone,returningtohistrainingschedule.Hedidnâtwanttointrudeonaprivatefamilymoment.Givingmespaceasmuchasanyoneelse.
Kilornsitswithme,crampedintoalittlechairagainstthewindows.Therainweakenswitheverypassingsecond.
âGoodtimetofish,âhesays,glancingatthegraysky.
âOh,donâtyoustartmumblingabouttheweathertoo.â
âTouchy,touchy.â
âYouârelivingonborrowedtime,Warren.â
Helaughs,risingtothejoke.âIthinkweallareatthispoint.â
Fromanyoneelseitwouldsoundforeboding,butIknowKilorntoowellforthat.Inudgehisshoulder.âSo,howâstraininggoing?â
âWell. Montfort has dozens of newblood soldiers, all trained. Someabilities overlapâDarmian, Harrick, Farrah, a few moreâand theyâreimprovingbyleapsandboundswiththeirmentors.IdrillwithAda,andthekidswhenCaldoesnât.Theyneedafamiliarface.â
âNotimeforfishing,then?â
Hechuckles,leaningforwardtobracehiselbowsonhisknees.âNo,notreally. Itâs funnyâI used to hate getting up towork the river.Hated everysecondofsunburnsandropeburnsandstuckhooksandfishgutsallovermyclothes.âHegnawsonhisnails.âNowImissit.â
Imissthatboytoo.
âThesmellmadeitreallyhardtobefriendswithyou.â
âProbablywhywestuck together.Nooneelsecouldhandlemystinkoryourattitude.â
Ismileandtipmyheadback,leaningmyskullagainstthewindowglass.Raindropsrollpast,fatandsteady.Icounttheminmyhead.Itâseasierthanthinkingaboutanythingelsearoundmeoraheadofme.
Forty-one,forty-twoâŠ
âIdidnâtknowyoucouldsitstillforthislong.â
Kilorn watches me, thoughtful. Heâs a thief too, and he has thiefâsinstincts. Lying to him wonât accomplish anything, only push him fartheraway.AndthatâsnotsomethingIcanbearrightnow.
âIdonâtknowwhattodo,âIwhisper.âEveninWhitefire,asaprisoner,Itriedtoescape, triedtoscheme,spy,survive.ButnowâŠIdonâtknow.IâmnotsureIcancontinue.â
âYoudonâthaveto.Nooneonearthwouldblameyouifyouwalkedawayfromallofthisandnevercameback.â
Ikeepstaringattheraindrops.Inthepitofmybelly,Ifeelsick.âIknow.â
Guilt eats through me. âBut even if I could disappear right now, witheveryoneIcareabout,Iwouldnâtdoit.â
Thereâstoomuchangerinme.Toomuchhate.
Kilornnodsinunderstanding.âButyoudonâtwanttofighteither.â
âIdonâtwanttobecomeâŠâMyvoicetrailsaway.
I donâtwant tobecomeamonster.A shellwithnothingbutghosts.LikeMaven.
âYouwonât.Iwonâtletyou.AnddonâtevengetmestartedonGisa.â
Inspiteofmyself,Ibitebackalaugh.âRight.â
âYouâre not alone in this. In all myworkwith the newbloods, I foundthatâswhattheymostfear.âHeleanshisownheadbackagainstthewindow.âYoushouldtalktothem.â
âI should,â Imurmur, and Imean it.A tiny bit of relief blooms inmychest.Thosewordscomfortmelikenothingelse.
âAndintheend,youneedtofigureoutwhatyouwant,âheprodsgently.
Bathwaterswirls,boilinglazilyinfat,whitebubbles.Apaleboylooksupatme,hiseyeswideandhisneckbared.InrealityIjuststood.Iwasweakandstupidandscared.But inthedaydreamIputmyhandsaroundhisneckandsqueeze.He flails in the scaldingwater, dipping under.Never to resurface.Nevertohauntmeagain.
âIwanttokillhim.â
Kilornâseyesnarrowasamuscletwingesinhischeek.âThenyouhavetotrain,andyouhavetowin.â
Slowly,Inod.
At the edge of the ward, almost entirely in shadow, the Colonel keepsvigil.Hestaresathisfeet,notmoving.Hedoesnâtgointoseehisdaughterandnewgrandchild.Buthedoesnâtleaveeither.
TWENTY-THREEEvangeline
She laughs against my neck, her touch a brush of lips and cold steel.Mycrown perches precariously on her red curls, steel and diamond glintingbetween ruby locks. With her ability, she makes the diamonds wink likeluminousstars.
Reluctant,Isitupandleavemybed, thesilkysheets,andElanebehind.SheyelpswhenIthrowopenthecurtains,lettingthesunlightstreamin.Withaflickofherhandthewindowshadows,bloomingwithshadeuntilthelightreducestoherliking.
Idress in thedimness,donningsmallblackundergarmentsandapairoflacedsandals.Today isspecial,andI takemytimemoldinganoutfit tomyformfromthemetalsheetsinmycloset.Titaniumanddarkenedsteelrippleacross my limbs. Black and silver, it reflects light in an array of brilliantcolors. I donât need amaid to completemy appearance, nor do Iwant onefloating around inmy room. I do it myself, matching sparkling blue-blacklipsticktocoal-darkeyelinerdottedwithspeciallymadecrystals.Elanedozesthroughitall,untilIpullthecrownfromherhead.Itfitsmeperfectly.
âMine,âItellher,leaningdowntokissheroncemore.Shesmileslazily,herlipscurvingagainstmyown.âDonâtforget,youâresupposedtobepresenttoday.â
Shebowsplayfully.âAsYourHighnesscommands.â
The title issodeliciousIwant to lick thewordsrightoutofhermouth.Butattheriskofruiningmymakeup,Irefrain.AndIdonâtlookback,lestIlosemygriponwhateverself-controlIhaveleftthesedays.
RidgeHousehasbelongedtomyfamilyforgenerations,sprawlingacrossthecrestingedgeofthemanyriftsthatgiveourregionitsname.Allsteelandglass,itâseasilymyfavoriteofthefamilyestates.Mypersonalchambersfaceeast,towardthedawn.Ilikerisingwiththesun,asmuchasElanedisagrees.The passage connecting my rooms to the main halls of the estate aremagnetron designed, made of steel walkways with open sides. Some runalong the ground, butmany arch over the leafy treetops, jagged rocks, and
springsdottingtheproperty.Shouldbattleevercometoourdoor,aninvadingforcewould have a difficult time fighting theirway through a structure setagainstthem.
Despite the manicured forest and luxurious grounds of the Ridge, fewbirdscomehere.Theyknowbetter.Aschildren,PtolemusandIusedmanyfortargetpractice.Therestfelltomymotherâswhims.
More than three hundred years ago, before the Calore kings rose, theRidgedidnotexist,andneitherdidNorta.ThiscorneroflandwasruledbyaSamoswarlord,mydirectancestor.Oursisthebloodofconquerors,andourfortuneshaverisenagain.MavenisnottheonlykinginNortaanymore.
Servantsaregoodatmakingthemselvesscarcehere,appearingonlywhenneededor calledupon. In recentweeks, they seemalmost toogoodat theirjob.Itisnâthardtoguesswhy.ManyRedsarefleeing,eithertothecitiesforsafetyagainstcivilwar,or to join theScarletGuardâs rebellion.FathersaystheGuarditselfhasescapedtoPiedmont,whichisallbutapuppet,dancingon Montfortâs strings. He maintains channels of communication with theMontfortandGuardleaders,albeitbegrudgingly.Butfornow,theenemyofour enemy is our friend, making us all tentative allies where Maven isconcerned.
Tollywaits in the gallery, thewide, openhall running the length of themainhouse.Windowsonallsidesofferaviewineverydirection,overmilesoftheRift.Ontheclearestofdays,ImightbeabletoseePitarustothewest,but clouds hang low in the distance as spring rains race the length of thesprawling river valley. In the east, valleys and hills roll off in increasinglyhighslopes,endinginblue-greenmountains.TheRiftregionis,inmycorrectopinion, the most beautiful piece of Norta. And it is mine. My familyâs.HouseSamosrulesthisheaven.
Mybrothercertainlylookslikeaprince,theheirtothethroneoftheRift.Instead of armor, Tollywears a new uniform. Silver gray instead of black,withgleamingonyx-and-steelbuttonsandanoil-darksashcrossinghimfromshouldertohip.Nomedalsyet,atleastnonethathecanwear.Therestwereearned in service to another king. His silvery hair is wet, plastered backagainsthishead.Freshfromashower.Hekeepshisnewhandtuckedinclose,protectiveoftheappendage.IttookWrenthebetterpartofadaytoregrowitproperly,andeventhensheneededanimmenseamountofhelpfromtwoofherkin.
âWhereâsmywife?âheasks,lookingdowntheopenpassagebehindme.
âSheâllbealongeventually.Lazything.âTollymarriedElaneaweekago.Idonâtknowifheâsseenhersince theweddingnight,buthehardlyminds.Thearrangementismutuallyagreedupon.
He links his good arm inmine. âNot everyone can operate on as littlesleepasyou.â
âWell,whataboutyou?IâveheardallthatworkonyourhandhasledtosomelatenightswithLadyWren,âIreply,leering.âOramImisinformed?â
Tollygrins,sheepish.âIsitthatevenpossible?â
âNot here.â In Ridge House, itâs near impossible to keep secrets.Especially fromMother.Hereyesareeverywhere, inmiceandcatsand theoccasionaldaringsparrow.Sunlightanglesthroughthegallery,playingacrossmanysculpturesoffluidmetal.Aswepass,Ptolemustwistshisnewhandintheair,andthesculpturestwistwithit.Theyre-form,eachonemorecomplexthanthelast.
âDonât dawdle, Tolly. If the ambassadors arrive before we do, Fathermight spike our heads to the gate,â I scold him.He laughs at the commonthreatandoldjoke.Neitherofushaseverseensuchathing.Fatherhaskilledbefore, certainly, but never so crudely or so close to home.Donât bleed inyourowngarden,hewouldsay.
Wewindourwaydownfromthegallery,keepingtotheouterwalkwayssoastobetterenjoythespringweather.Mostoftheinteriorsalonslookouton the walkway, their windows polished plate glass or their doors thrownopen to catch the springbreeze.Samosguards line one, and theynod theirheads when we approach, paying deference to their prince and princess. Ismileatthegesture,buttheirpresenceunsettlesme.
The Samos guards oversee a violent operation: the making of SilentStone.EvenPtolemus pales aswe pass.The smell of blood overpowers usbothforamoment,fillingtheairwithsharpiron.TwoArvenssit insidethesalon,chainedtotheirseats.Neitherisherewillingly.TheirhouseisalliedtoMaven,butwehaveneedforSilentStone,andsotheyarehere.Wrenhoversbetween them, noting their progress. Both theirwrists have been slit open,and theybleedfreely into largebuckets.When theArvensreach their limit,Wren will heal them up and stimulate their blood production, all to beginagain.Meanwhile, the bloodwill bemixedwith cement, hardened into thedeadlyblocksofability-suppressingstone.Forwhat,Idonâtknow,butFathercertainly has plans for it. A prison, maybe, like the one Maven built forSilversandnewbloodsboth.
Ourgrandestreceivingchamber,theaptlynamedSunsetStretch,isonthewesternslope.Isupposenowitâstechnicallyourthroneroomaswell.Asweapproach, courtiers of my fatherâs newly created nobility dot the way,thickeningwitheveryforwardstep.MostareSamoscousins,elevatedbyourdeclarationofindependence.Afewofcloserblood,myfatherâssiblingsandtheirchildren,claimprincely titles for themselves,but the rest remain lordsand ladies, content as always to live offmy fatherâs name andmy fatherâsambitions.
Bright colors stand out among the usual black and silver, an obviousindicationof todayâsassembly.Ambassadors from theotherhouses inopenrevolthavecometotreatwiththekingdomoftheRift.Tokneel.HouseIralwill argue.Attempt tobargain.The silks think their secretscanbuy themacrown,butpoweristheonlycurrencyhere.Strengththeonlycoin.Andtheysurrenderedbothbyenteringourterritory.
Havenhascomeaswell,theshadowsbaskinginsunlight,whiletheLariswindweaversinyellowkeepclosetoeachother.Thelatterhavealreadygiventheirallegiance tomyfather,and theybringwith themthemightof theAirFleet, having seized control of most air bases. I care more about HouseHaven, though. Elane wonât say it, but she misses her family. Some havepledgedloyaltytoSamosalready,butnotall,includingherownfather,andittearsathertoseeherhousesplinter.Intruth,Ithinkitâswhyshedidnâtcomedownherewithme.She canât bear the sightofherhousedivided. Iwish Icouldmakethemkneelforher.
Inthemorninglight,theSunsetStretchisstillimpressivewithitssmoothriver-rock flooring and sweeping views of the valley. The Allegiant Riverwindslikeablueribbonovergreensilk,lazilycurvingbackandforthintothedistantrainstorm.
Thecoalitionhasnotarrivedyet,allowingTollyandmetimetotakeourseatsâthrones.HisonFatherâsright,mineonMotherâsleft.Allaremadeofthe finest steel, polished to amirror sheen. Itâs cold to the touch, and I tellmyselfnottoshiverasIsit.Goosebumpsriseonmyskinanyway,mostlyinanticipation. I am a princess, Evangeline of theRift, of the royal house ofSamos.Ithoughtmyfatewastobesomeoneelseâsqueen,subjecttosomeoneelseâs crown. This is so much better. This is what we should have beenplanning for all along. I almost regret the years ofmy lifewasted trainingonlytobesomeoneâswife.
Fatherentersthehallwithacrowdofadvisers,hisheaddippedtolisten.He doesnât speakmuch by nature.His thoughts are his own, but he listens
well, takingall intoconsiderationbeforemakingdecisions.NotlikeMaven,thefoolishkingwhoonlyfollowedhisownflawedcompass.
Motherfollowsalone,inherusualgreen,withoutladiesoradvisers.Mostgive her a wide berth. Probably because of the two-hundred-pound blackpantherpaddingatherheels. Itkeepspacewithher,breakingfromhersideonlywhen she reaches her throne. Then it weaves aroundme, nuzzling itsmassiveheadagainstmyankle.Ikeepstilloutofhabit.Motherâscontrolofher creatures iswellpracticed,butnotperfect. Iâve seenherpets takebitesout ofmany servants, whether she willed it or not. The panther shakes itsheadoncebefore returning toMother, takingaseatonher left,betweenus.She rests a single hand blazingwith emeralds on its head, strokes its silkyblackfur.Thegiganticcatblinksslowly,itsyelloweyesround.
ImeetMotherâsgazeovertheanimal,raisingasinglebrow.âHellofanentrance.â
âItwasthepantherorthepython,âshereplies.Emeraldsflashacrossthecrown of her head, expertly set into silver. Her hair falls in a thick, blacksheet, perfectly straight and smooth. âI couldnât find a gown to match thesnake.âShegesturesdownatthejadefoldsofherchiffondress.Idoubtthatâsthe reason, but I donât say so out loud. Her machinations will becomeapparentsoonenough.Smartassheis,Motherhaslittletalentforsubterfuge.Her threats come openly. Father is a good match for her in this way. Hismaneuverstakeyears,alwaysmovingintheshadows.
Butfornow,hestandsinbrightsunlight.Hisadvisersfallbackatawaveofhishand,andheascendstositwithus.Apowerfulsight.LikePtolemus,hewearsclothesofbrocadedsilver,hisoldblackrobesabandoned.Icanfeelthesuitofarmorbeneathhisregalia.Chromium.Justlikethesimplebandacrosshisbrow.NogemsforFather.Hehaslittleuseforthem.
âCousinsofiron,âhesaysquietlytotheSunsetStretch,lookingoutonthemanySamosfacesdottingthereceivingcrowd.
âKingsofsteel!â theyshoutback,puttingfists to theair.Theforceof itthrumsinmychest.
In Norta, in the throne rooms of Whitefire or Summerton, someonealwayscrowedthenameoftheking,announcinghispresence.Aswithgems,Fatherdoesnât care about suchneedlessdisplays.Everyonehereknowsourname.Torepeatitwouldonlyshowweakness,athirstforreassurance.Fatherhasneither.
âBegin,âhesays.Hisfingersdrumonthearmofhisthrone,andtheheavy
irondoorsatthefarendofthehallswingopen.
Theambassadorsarefewbuthigh-ranking,leadersoftheirhouses.LordSalin of Iral seems to bewearing all the jewelsmy father lacks, his broadcollarofrubiesandsapphiresstretchingfromshouldertoshoulder.Therestofhisclothesareequallypatternedinredandblue,andhisrobesbillowaroundhis ankles.Anothermight trip, but an Iral silk has no such fear.Hemoveswithlethalgrace,eyeshardanddark.Hedoeshisbesttomeasureuptothememory of his predecessor, Ara Iral. His escorts are silks as well, just asflamboyant.Theyareabeautifulhouse,withskin likecoldbronzeand lushblackhair.Sonyaisnotwithhim.Iconsideredherafriendatcourt,asmuchasIconsideranyoneafriend.Idonâtmissher,anditâsprobablyforthebestsheisnâthere.
Salinâs eyes narrow at the sight of my motherâs panther, now purringbeneathhertouch.Ah.Ihadforgotten.Hismother,themurderedladyofIral,wascalledthePantherinheryouth.Subtle,Mother.
HalfadozenHavenshadowsrippleintobeing,theirfacesdecidedlylesshostile. In thebackof theroom,InoticeElaneappearaswell.Butherfacestays inshadow,hidingherpainfromeveryoneelse in thecrowdedroom.IwishIcouldseathernexttome.Buteventhoughmyfamilyhasbeenmorethanobligingwheresheisconcerned,thatcanneverhappen.SheâllsitbehindTollyoneday.Notme.
Lord Jerald, Elaneâs father, is the leading member of the Havendelegation. Like her, he has vibrant red hair and glowing skin. He seemsyoungerthanhisyears,softenedbyhisnaturalabilitytomanipulatelight.Ifheknowshisdaughterisinthebackoftheroom,hedoesnâtshowit.
âYourMajesty.âSalinIralinclineshisheadjustenoughtobepolite.
Father does not bend. Only his eyes move, flickering between theambassadors.âMylords.Myladies.WelcometothekingdomoftheRift.â
âWethankyouforyourhospitality,âJeraldoffers.
Icanalmosthearmyfathergrindhisteeth.Hedespiseswastedtime,andsuchpleasantriesarecertainlythat.âWell,youtraveledallthisway.Ihopeitistoupholdyourpledge.â
âWepledgedtosupportyouincoalition,tosupplantMaven,âSalinsays.âNotthis.â
Father sighs. âMaven has been supplanted in the Rift. And with yourallegiance,thatcanspread.â
âWithyouasking.Onedictatorforanother.âMuttersbreakoutamongthecrowd,butweremainsilentasSalinspitshisnonsense.
Next to me, Mother leans forward. âItâs hardly fair to compare myhusbandtothataddledprincewhohasnobusinesssittinghisfatherâsthrone.â
âI wonât stand by and let you seize a crown that is not yours,â Salingrowlsback.
Motherclucksher tongue.âYoumeanacrownyoudidnât think toseizeyourself?PitythePantherwasmurdered.Shewouldhaveplannedforthis,atleast.âShecontinuesstrokingtheglossypredatoratherside.Itgrowlslowinitsthroat,baringfangs.
âThefactremains,mylord,âFathercutsin,âwhileMavenisfloundering,hisarmiesandresourcesvastlyoutnumberourown.EspeciallynowthattheLakelanders have bound themselves to him. But together, we can defend.Strike out in force.Wait formore of his kingdom to crumble.Wait for theScarletGuardââ
âTheScarletGuard.â Jerald spits onourbeautiful floor.His face colorswith a gray flush. âYou mean Montfort. The true power behind thosewretchedterrorists.Anotherkingdom.â
âTechnicallyââTollybegins,butJeraldpresseson.
âIâmbeginningtothinkyoucarenotforNorta,butonlyforyourtitleandyour crown. On keeping whatever you piece you can while greater beastsdevourournation,âJeraldsnaps. In thecrowd,Elaneflinchesandshutshereyes.Noonespeakstomyfatherthisway.
Thepanthersnarlsagain,matchingMotherâsrisingtemper.Fatherjustsitsback against his throne,watching the open threat ripple through theSunsetStretch.
After a long, tremblingmoment, Jerald sinks to a knee. âMyapologies,YourMajesty.Imisspoke.IdidnotintendâŠâHetrailsoffunderthekingâswatchfuleye,thewordsdyingonhisfleshylips.
âThe Scarlet Guard will never take hold here. Nomatter what radicalsmaybebacking them.âFatherspeaksresolutely.âRedsare inferior,beneathus.Thatistheworkofbiology.Lifeitselfknowswearetheirmasters.WhyelseareweSilver?Whyelsearewetheirgods,ifnottorulethem?â
TheSamoscousinscheer.âKingsofsteel!âechoes through thechamberagain.
âIf newbloodswant to throw their lot in with insects, let them. If theywanttoturntheirbacksonourwayoflife,letthem.Andwhentheyreturntofightus,tofightnature,killthem.â
The cheer grows, spreading fromourhouse toLaris.Even a few in thedelegationsclapornodalong.IdoubttheyâveeverheardVoloSamosspeakthismuchâheâs been saving his voice and hiswords for themoments thatmatter.Thisiscertainlythat.
OnlySalinremainsstill.Hisdarkeyes,rimmedwithblackliner,standoutsharply. âIs that why your daughter let a terrorist go free? Why sheslaughteredfourSilversofanoblehousetodoso?â
âFourArvenssworn toMaven.âMyvoicesnaps likeawhipcrack.TheIrallordturnshisgazeonmeandIfeelelectrified,almostrisinginmyseat.Thesearemy firstwordsasaprincess,my firstwords spokenwithavoicethat is trulymy own. âFour soldierswhowould take everything you are iftheirwretchedkingasked.Doyoumournthem,mylord?â
Salinscowlsindisgust.âImournthelossofavaluablehostage,nothingmore.AndobviouslyIquestionyourdecision,Princess.â
AnotherdropofderisioninyourvoiceandIâllcutoutyourtongue.
âThedecisionwasmine,âFathersaysevenly.âLikeyousaid,theBarrowgirlwasavaluablehostage.WetookherfromMaven.âAndloosedherontheSquare, likeabeast from itscage. IwonderhowmanyofMavenâssoldiersshetookwithherthatday.EnoughtofulfillFatherâsplanatleast,tocoverourownescape.
âAndnowsheâs in thewind!âSalin implores.His temper slips, inchbyinch.
Father shows no signs of interest and states the obvious. âShe is inPiedmont, of course.And I assure you,Barrowwasmore dangerous underMavenâs command than sheâll ever be under theirs.Our concern should beeliminatingMaven,notradicalsdestinedtofail.â
Salinblanches.âFail?TheyholdCorvium.TheycontrolavastamountofPiedmont,usingaSilverprinceasapuppet.Ifthatisfailureââ
âThey seek tomake equal that which is not fundamentally equal.âMymotherspeakscoldly,andherwordsringtrue.âItisfoolish,likebalancinganimpossibleequation.Anditwillendinbloodshed.Butitwillend.Piedmontwillriseup.NortawillthrowbackReddevils.Theworldwillkeepturning.â
AllargumentseemstodiewithMotherâsvoice.LikeFather,shesitsback,satisfied.Foronce, she iswithouther familiarhissof snakes. Just thegreatpanther,purringunderhertouch.
Fatherforgeson,eagertolandthekillingstrike.âOurobjectiveisMaven.The Lakelands. Cleaving the king from his new ally will leave himvulnerable,mortally so.Will you support us in our quest to rid this poisonfromourcountry?â
Slowly,SalinandJeraldexchangeglances,theireyesmeetingacrosstheemptyspacebetweenthem.Adrenalinesurgesinmyveins.Theywillkneel.Theymustkneel.
âWillyousupportHouseSamos,HouseLaris,HouseLerolanââ
Avoicecutshimoff.Thevoiceofawoman. It echoesâfromnowhere.âYoupresumetospeakforme?â
Jerald twistshiswrist,his fingersmoving ina rapidcircle.Everyone inthe chamber gasps, including me, when a third ambassador blinks intoexistencebetweenIralandHaven.Herhouseappearsbehindher,adozenoftheminclothesofredandorange,likethesettingsun.Likeanexplosion.
Motherjoltsbesideme,surprisedforthefirsttimeinmany,manyyears.Myadrenalinebecomesspikesofice,chillingmyblood.
TheleaderofHouseLerolantakesadaringstepforward.Herappearanceissevere.Grayhairtiedintoaneatbun,hereyesburninglikeheatedbronze.Theolderwomandoesnotknowthenameoffear.âIwillnotsupportaSamoskingwhileaCaloreheirlives.â
âIknew I smelled smoke,âMothermutters, pullingherhandback fromthe panther. It immediately tenses, shifting to stand as its claws slide intoplace.
She just shrugs, smirking. âEasy to say, Larentia, now that you seemestandinghere.âHerfingersdrumatherside.Iwatchthemclosely.Sheisanoblivion, able to explode thingswith a touch. If she got close enough, shecouldobliteratemyheartinmychestormybraininmyskull.
âIamaqueenââ
âSoamI.âAnabelLerolangrinswider.Thoughherclothesarefine,shewearsnojewelrythatIcansee,nocrown.Nometal.Myfistclawsatmyside.âWewillnotturnourbacksonmygrandson.ThethroneofNortabelongstoTiberiastheSeventh.Oursisacrownofflames,notsteel.â
Fatherâs anger gathers like thunder and breaks like lightning.He standsfromhisthrone,onefistclenching.Themetalreinforcementsofthechamberitselftwist,groaningunderthestrainofhisfury.
âWehadadeal,Anabel!âhesnarls.âTheBarrowgirlforyoursupport.â
Shejustblinks.
Evenfromthefarside, Icanhearmybrotherhiss.âHaveyouforgottenthe reason theGuardhasCorvium?DidyounotseeyourgrandsonfightinghisowninArcheon?Howcanthekingdomstandbehindhimnow?â
Anabel doesnât flinch.Her lined face remains still, her expression openand patient. A kindly old woman in everything but the waves of ferocityemanatingfromher.Shewaitsformybrothertopushon,buthedoesnât,andsheinclinesherhead.âThankyou,PrincePtolemus,foratleastnotfurtheringthe outrageous falsity of my sonâs murder and my grandsonâs exile. BothcommittedatthehandsofElaraMerandus,bothspreadthroughthekingdomin the worst propaganda I have ever seen. Yes, Tiberias has done terriblethingstosurvive.But theywere tosurvive.Aftereveryoneofus turnedonhim,abandonedhim,afterhisownpoisonedbrother tried tokillhim in thearenalikeabasecriminal.Acrownistheleastwecangivehiminapology.â
Behindher,IralandHavenstandfirm.Acurtainoftensionfallsoverthehall.Everyone feels it.WeâreSilvers,born to strengthandpower.Allofustraintofight,tokill.Wehearthetickofaclockineveryheart,countingdowntobloodshed.IglanceatElane,lockeyeswithher.Shepressesherlipsintoagrimline.
âTheRiftismine,âFathergrowls,soundinglikeoneofMotherâsbeasts.Thenoiseshuddersinmybones,andIaminstantlyachild.
It has no such effect on the old queen.Anabel just tips her head to theside.Sunlightglintsdownthestraight,ironstrandsofherhairgatheredatthenapeofherneck.
âThenkeepit,âshereplieswithashrug.âAsyousaid,wehadadeal.â
And just like that, the coiling turmoil threatening to engulf the roomsweepsaway.Afewofthecousins,aswellasLordJerald,visiblyexhale.
Anabelspreadsherhandswide,anopengesture.âYouarethekingoftheRift,andmayyoureignformanyprosperousyears.Butmygrandsonis therightfulkingofNorta.Andhewillneedeveryallywecanmustertotakehiskingdomback.â
Even Father did not foresee this turn. Anabel Lerolan has not been tocourt in many years, electing to remain in Delphie, her houseâs seat. ShedespisedElaraMerandusandcouldnotbenearherâthat,orshefearedher.Isuppose now, with the whisper queen gone, the oblivion queen can return.Andreturnshehas.
I tell myself not to panic. Blindsided as Father may be, this is notsurrender.We keep theRift.We keep our home.We keep our crowns. Itâsonlybeenafewweeks,butIâmloathtogiveawaywhatweâveplannedfor.WhatIdeserve.
âI wonder how you intend to restore a king who wants no part in athrone,âFathermuses.HesteepleshisfingersandsurveysAnabeloverthem.âYourgrandsonisinPiedmontââ
âMy grandson is an unwilling operative of the ScarletGuard,which inturn is controlled by the Free Republic of Montfort. Youâll find that theirleader,theonecallinghimselfpremier,isquiteareasonableman,âsheaddswiththeairofsomeonediscussingtheweather.
My stomach twists, and I feel vaguely sick. Something in me, a deepinstinct,screamsformetokillherbeforeshecancontinue.
Fatherraisesaneyebrow.âYouâvemadecontactwithhim?â
TheLerolanqueensmilestightly.âEnoughtonegotiate.ButIspeaktomygrandson more often these days. Heâs a talented boy, very good withmachines.Hereachedoutinhisdesperation,askingforonlyonething.Andthankstoyou,Idelivered.â
Mare.
Fathernarrowshiseyes.âDoesheknowofyourplans,then?â
âHewill.â
âAndMontfort?â
âIs eager to ally themselves with a king. They will support a war ofrestorationinthenameofTiberiastheSeventh.â
âAs they have in Piedmont?â If no one else will point out her folly, Icertainlymust. âPrinceBracken dances on their strings, controlled.Reportsindicate they have taken his children. You would so willingly let yourgrandsonbecometheirpuppettoo?â
I came here eager to see others kneel. I remain seated, but I feel barebeforeAnabelasshegrins.âAsyourmothersaidsoeloquently,theyseekto
make equal that which is not fundamentally equal. Victory is impossible.Silverbloodcannotbeoverthrown.â
Eventhepantherisquiet,watchingtheexchangewithtickingeyes.Itstailflicksslowly.Ifocusonitsfur,darkasthenightsky.Anabyss,justliketheonewe edge toward.Myheart drums a harried rhythm, pumping both fearandadrenalinethroughoutmybody.IdonâtknowwhichwayFatherwilllean.Idonâtknowwhatwillbecomeofthispath.Itmakesmyskincrawl.
âOfcourse,âAnabeladds,âthekingdomofNortaandthekingdomoftheRiftwouldbetightlyboundbytheiralliance.Andbymarriage.â
Thefloorseemstotipbeneathme.Ittakeseveryounceofwillandpridetoremainonmycoldandviciousthrone.Youaresteel,Iwhisperinmyhead.Steeldoesnotbreakorbend.But I canalready feelmyselfbowing,givingwaytomyfatherâswill.Heâlltrademeinaheartbeat,ifitmeanskeepingthecrown. The kingdom of the Rift, the kingdom of NortaâVolo Samos willtakewhateverhecangrasp.Ifthelatterisoutofreach,hewilldowhateverhecantomaintainthefirst.Evenifitmeansbreakinghispromise.Sellingmeoffonemore time.My skin prickles. I thought all this was behind us. I am aprincessnow,myfatheraking.Idonâtneedtomarryanyoneforacrown.Thecrownisinmyblood,inme.
No,thatisnâttrue.YoustillneedFather.Youneedhisname.Youareneveryourown.
Bloodthundersinmyears,theroarofahurricane.IcanâtbringmyselftolookupatElane.Ipromisedher.Shemarriedmybrothersowewouldneverbeparted.Sheupheldher sideof thebargain,butnow?Theyâll sendme toArcheon. Sheâll stay herewithTolly as hiswife and, one day, his queen. Iwant toscream.Iwant to rip the infernalchairunderme toshredsand teareveryoneinthisroomapart.Includingmyself.Icanâtdothis.Icanâtlivelikethis.
AfewweeksoftheclosestthingtofreedomIâveeverknownâandIcanâtletitgo.Icanâtgobacktolivingforsomeoneelseâsambitions.
I breathe throughmy nose, trying to keepmy rage in check. I have nogods,butIcertainlypray.
Sayno.Sayno.Sayno.Please,Father,sayno.
Noonelooksatme,myonlyrelief.Noonewatchesmyslowunraveling.Theyonlyhaveeyesformyfatherandhisdecision.Itrytodetach.Trytoputmypaininaboxandtuckitaway.ItâseasytodoinTraining,inafight.But
itâsalmostimpossiblenow.
Ofcourse.Thevoiceinmyheadlaughssadly.Yourpathalwaysledhere,no matter what. I was made to marry the Calore heir. Physically made.Mentallymade.Constructed.Likeacastle,oratomb.Mylifehasneverbeenmyown,anditneverwillbe.
My fatherâswords drive nails intomy heart, each one another burst ofbloodysorrow.
âTothekingdomofNorta.AndthekingdomoftheRift.â
TWENTY-FOURCameron
IttakesMorreylongerthantheotherhostages.
Some believed within minutes. Others held out for days, stubbornlyclingingtotheliestheyâdbeenspoon-fed.TheScarletGuardisacollectionofterrorists,theScarletGuardisevil.TheScarletGuardwillmakelifeworsefor you.KingMaven freed you fromwar andwill free you frommore still.Twistedhalf-truthsspunintopropaganda.Icanunderstandhowtheyandsomanyothersweretakenin.MavenexploitedathirstinRedswhodidnâtknowwhatitwastobemanipulated.TheysawaSilverpledgingtolistenwhenhispredecessors would not, to hear the voices of people who had never beenheard.Aneasyhopetobuyinto.
And theScarletGuardare far from innocentheroes.Theyare flawedatbest,combatingoppressionwithviolence.ThechildrenoftheDaggerLegionremainwary. Theyâre all just teenagers bouncing from the trenches of onearmytoanother.Idonâtblamethemforkeepingtheireyesopen.
Morreystillclings tohismisgivings.Becauseofme,what Iam.Mavenaccused theGuard ofmurdering people likeme.Nomatter howmuchmybrothertries,hecanâtshakethewords.
Aswesitdowntobreakfast,ourbowlsofoatmealhottothetouch,Ibracemyselffortheusualquestions.Weliketoeatoutsideonthegrass,beneaththeopen sky, with the training fields stretched out. After fifteen years in ourslum,everyfreshbreezefeelslikeamiracle.Isitcross-legged,mydarkgreencoverallssoftfromwearandtoomuchwashingtocount.
âWhy donât you leave?â Morrey asks, jumping right in. He stirs theoatmealthreetimes,counterclockwise.âYouhavenâtpledgedyouroathtotheGuard.Youdonâthaveanyreasontostayhere.â
âWhydoyoudothat?âItaphisspoonwithmine.Astupidquestion,butaneasydodge.Ineverhaveagoodanswerforhim,andIhatethathemakesmewonder.
He shrugs his narrow shoulders. âI like the routine,â he mumbles. âAthomeâŠwell,youknowhomewasbleedingawful,butâŠâHestirsagain,the
metalscraping.âYouremembertheschedules,thewhistles.â
âIdo.âIstillheartheminmydreams.âAndyoumissthat?â
Hescoffs.âOfcoursenot.IjustâŠNotknowingwhatâsgoingtohappen.Idonâtunderstandit.Itâsâitâsscary.â
Ispoonupsomeoatmeal.Itâsthickandtasty.Morreygavemehissugarration,andtheextrasweetnessundercutswhateverdiscomfortIfeel.âIthinkthatâshoweveryonefeels.IthinkitâswhyIstay.â
Morrey turns to look atme, narrowing his eyes against the glare of thestill-risingsun.Itilluminateshisface,throwingintoharshcontrasthowmuchheâschanged.Steadyrationshavefilledhimout.Andthecleanerairclearlyagreeswithhim.Ihavenâtheardthescrapingcoughthatusedtopunctuatehissentences.
One thing hasnât changed, though. He still has the tattoo, just as I do.Blackinklikeabrandaroundhisneck.Ourlettersandnumbersmatchalmostexactly.
NT-ARSM-188908, his reads. New Town, Assembly and Repair, SmallManufacturing.Iâm188907.Iwasbornfirst.Myneckitchesatthememoryofthedaywhenweweremarked,permanentlyboundtoourindenturedjobs.
âIdonâtknowwhere togo.â I say thewordsout loud for the first time,eventhoughIâvebeenthinkingthemeverydaysinceIescapedCorros.âWecanâtgohome.â
âIguessnot,âhemumbles.âSowhatdowedohere?Youâregoingtostayandletthesepeopleââ
âI told you before, they donât want to kill newbloods. That was a lie,Mavenâslieââ
âIâmnottalkingaboutthat.SotheScarletGuardisnâtgoingtokillyouâbut theyâre still putting you in danger. You spend everyminute youâre notwithmetrainingtofight,tokill.AndinCorviumIsawâŠwhenyouledusoutâŠâ
DonâtsaywhatIdid. I remember itwellenoughwithouthimdescribingthe way I killed two Silvers. Faster than Iâve ever killed before. Bloodpouringfromtheireyesandmouths,theirinsidesdyingorganbyorganasmysilencedestroyedeverythinginthem.Ifeltitthen.Ifeelitstill.Thesensationofdeathpulsesthroughmybody.
âIknowyoucanhelp.âHeputshisoatmealdownandtakesmyhand.In
thefactories,Iusedtoholdontohim.Ourrolesreverse.âIdonâtwanttoseethemturnyouintoaweapon.Youâremysister,Cameron.Youdideverythingyoucouldtosaveme.Letmedothesame.â
Withahuff,Ifallbackagainstthesoftgrass,leavingthebowlatmyside.
He letsme think,and instead turnshiseyeson thehorizon.Hewavesadark hand at the fields in front of us. âItâs so bleeding green here.Do youthinktherestoftheworldislikethis?â
âIdonâtknow.â
âWecouldfindout.âHisvoiceissosoftIpretendnottohearhim,andwelapseintoaneasysilence.Iwatchspringwindschasecloudsacross theskywhileheeats,hismotionsquickandefficient.âOrwecouldgohome.MamaandDadââ
âImpossible.â I focuson theblue above,blue likewenever saw in thathellholewewerebornin.
âYousavedme.â
âAndwealmostdied.Betterodds,andwealmostdied.âIexhaleslowly.âThereâsnothingwecandoforthemrightnow.Ithoughtmaybeoncebutâallwecandoishope.â
Sorrow tugsathis face, souringhis expression.Buthenods. âAnd stayalive.Stayourselves.Youhearme,Cam?âHegrabsmyhand.âDonâtletthischangeyou.â
Heâsright.EventhoughIâmangry,eventhoughIfeelsomuchhatredforeverythingthatthreatensmyfamilyâisfeedingthatrageworththecost?
âSowhatshouldIdo?âIfinallyforcemyselftoask.
âIdonât knowwhathaving an abilityâs like.Youhave friendswhodo.âHis eyes twinkle as he pauses for effect. âYou do have friends, right?âHequirks a smirk at me over the rim of his bowl. I smack his arm for theimplication.
MymindjumpstoFarleyfirst,butsheâsstillinthehospital,adjustingtoanewbaby,andshedoesnâthaveanability.Doesnâtknowwhatitâsliketobesolethal,incontrolofsomethingsodeadly.
âIâm scared,Morrey.When you throw a tantrum, you just yell and cry.Withme,withwhatIcandoâŠâIreachahandtothesky,flexingmyfingersagainsttheclouds.âIâmscaredofit.â
âMaybethatâsgood.â
âWhatdoyoumean?â
âAthome,yourememberhowtheyusethekids?Tofixthebiggears,thedeepwires?âMorreywidenshisdarkeyes,tryingtomakemeunderstand.
The memory echoes. Iron on iron, the screech and twist of constantlywhirringmachineryacrossendlessfactoryfloors.Icanalmostsmell theoil,almostfeelthewrenchinmyhand.ItwasareliefwhenMorreyandIgottoobig to be spidersâwhat the overseers called the little kids in our division.Smallenoughtogowhereadultworkerscouldnât, tooyoungtobeafraidofbeingcrushed.
âFear can be a good thing, Cam,â he pushes on. âFear doesnât let youforget. And the fear you have, the respect you have for this deadly thinginsideofyou,Ithinkthatâsanabilitytoo.â
Myoatmeal is coldnow,but I forceamouthful so Idonâthave to talk.Nowthesugarytasteisoverpowering,andtheglopstickstomyteeth.
âYourbraidsareamess,âMorreymutterstohimself.Heturnstoanotherroutine, anoldone familiar to usboth.Ourparentsworked earlier thanwedid,andwehadtohelpeachothergetreadyatdawn.Heâslongsinceknownhowtofixmyhair,andittakesnotimeatallforhimtountangleit.Itfeelsgoodtohavehimback,andIâmovercomewithemotionasheplaitsmycurlyblackhairintotwobraids.
Hedoesnâtpushmetomakeadecision,buttheconversationisenoughtolet questions I already had rise to the surface.Whodo Iwant to be?WhatchoiceamIgoingtomake?
Inthedistance,aroundtheedgeofthetrainingfields,Ispottwofamiliarfigures.Onetall,oneshort,bothofthemjoggingtheboundary.Theydothiseveryday, theirexercises familiar tomostofus.DespiteCalâsmuch longerlegs,Maredoesnâthaveaproblemkeepingup.Astheygetcloser,Icanseeher smiling. I donât understand a lot of things about the lightning girl, andsmilingduringarunisoneofthem.
âThanks,Morrey,âIsay,gettingtomyfeetwhenhefinishes.
Mybrotherdoesnât standwithme.He followsmygaze, laying eyesonMareasshegetscloser.Shedoesnâtmakehimtenseup,butCaldoes.Morreyquicklybusieshimselfwiththebowls,duckinghisheadtohidehisscowl.NolovelostbetweentheColesandtheprinceofNorta.
Mareraisesherchinasshejogs,acknowledgingusboth.
Theprince tries tohidehis annoyancewhen she slowsherpace, easingintoawalktoapproachmeandMorrey.Caldoesnâtdoitwell,buthenodsatbothofusinanattemptatapolitegreeting.
âMorning,âMaresays,shiftingfromfoottofootasshecatchesherbreath.Her complexion has improved more than anything; a golden warmth isreturning toherbrownskin. âCameron,Morrey,â she says,hereyes tickingbetween us with catlike speed. Her brain is always spinning, looking forcracks.Afterwhatsheâsbeenthrough,howcouldshebeanyotherway?
Shemustsensethehesitationinme,becauseshestaysput,waitingformetosaysomething.Ialmostlosemynerve,butMorreybrushesagainstmyleg.Justbitethebullet,Itellmyself.Shemightevenunderstand.
âWouldyoumindtakingawalkwithme?â
Beforehercapture,shewouldhavescoffed,toldmetotrain,brushedmeawaylikeanannoyingfly.Shebarelytoleratedme.Nowshebobsherhead.Withasinglegesture,MarewavesoffCallikeonlyshecan.
Prisonchangedher,likeitchangedusall.
âSure,Cameron.â
ItfeelslikeItalkforhours,spillingeverythingIâvebeenkeepinginside.Thefear,theanger,thesicksensationIgeteverytimeIthinkaboutwhatIcandoandwhatIâvedone.Howitusedtothrillme.Howsuchpowermademefeelinvincible, indestructibleâand now itmakesme feel ashamed. It feels likestabbingmyselfinthestomachandlettingmygutsfallout.Iavoidhereyesas I speak, keeping my gaze firmly on my feet as we pace the traininggrounds.Aswepresson,moreandmoresoldiersfloodthefield.NewbloodsandReds,allgoingthroughtheirmorningexercises.Intheiruniforms,greencoverallsprovidedbyMontfort, itâshardtotellwhichiswhich.Weall lookthe same, united. âIwant to protectmybrother.He tellsmewe should go,leaveâŠâMyvoiceweakens,trailingoffuntiltherearenomorewords.
Mareisforcefulinherreply.âMysistersaysthesamething.Everyday.ShewantstotakeupDavidsonâsoffer.Relocate.Letotherpeoplefight.âHereyes darken with intensity. They wobble over the landscape full of greenuniforms.Sheismechanicalinherobservations,whethersheknowsitornot,readingrisksandthreats.âShesaidweâvegivenenough.â
âSowhatwillyoudo?â
âIcanât turnmyback.âShebitesher lip, thoughtful. âThereâs toomuchangerinme.IfIdonâtfindawaytogetridofit,itmightpoisonmefortherestofmylife.Butthatprobablyisnâtwhatyouwanttohear.âItwouldbeanaccusation fromanyoneelse.FromCal,orFarley.FromwhoMarewas sixmonthsago.Insteadherwordsaresofter.
âHoldingonwilleatmealive,â Iadmit.âContinuingon thisway,usingmyabilitytokillâŠitwillmakemeamonster.â
Monster. She shivers when I say it, withdrawing inside herself. MareBarrowhashadherfairshareofmonsters.Shelooksaway,idlytuggingonabraidofhaircurlingwithsweatandhumidity.
âMonstersaresoeasilymade,especiallyinpeoplelikeus,âshemumbles.Butsherecoversquickly.âYoudidnâtfightinArcheon.Orifyoudid,Ididnâtseeyou.â
âNo, Iwas just there toâŠâKeepyou in check. In themoment, a goodplan.ButnowthatIknowwhatshewentthrough,Ifeelterrible.
Shedoesnâtpush.
âKilornâs idea back in Trial,â I say. âHe works well branching thenewbloods andReds, andheknew Iwanted to take a stepback.So Iwentalongâbutnottofight,nottokill,unlessabsolutelynecessary.â
âAndyouwanttocontinueonthatpath.âNotaquestion.
Slowly, Inod. I shouldnât feelembarrassed.âI think itâsbetter thisway.Defend,notdestroy.âAtmyside,myfingersflex.Silencepoolsbeneathmyflesh.Idonâthatemyability,butIcanhatewhatitdoes.
Marefixesmewithagrin.âIâmnotyourcommander.Icanâttellyouwhattodo,orhowtofight.ButIthinkitâsagoodidea.Andifanyonetriestotellyouotherwise,pointthemmyway.â
Ismile.SomehowIfeelaweightlift.âThanks.â
âIâmsorry,bytheway,âsheadds,comingcloser.âIâmthereasonyouârehere. Iknownow,whatIdid toyou, forcingyou to joinupâitwaswrong.AndIâmsorry.â
âYouâre absolutely right.You didwrong, thatâs for bleeding sure.But IgotwhatIwanted,intheend.â
âMorrey.â She sighs. âIâm glad you got him back.â Her smile doesnâtdisappear,butitcertainlyfades,weakenedbyallmentionofbrothers.
Onthe lowriseahead,Morreywaits,nowstanding insilhouetteagainstthebasebuildingsspreadoutbehindhim.Calisgone.Good.
Even though heâs been with us for months, Cal is awkward withoutpurpose, bad at conversation, and always on edgewhen he doesnât have astrategy tomull over. Part ofme still thinks he sees us all as disposableâcardstopickedupandthrownawayasstrategydictates.ButhelovesMare,Iremindmyself.HelovesagirlwithRedblood.
Thatmustcountforsomething.
Beforewemake it back tomy brother, one last fear bubbles up inmythroat.
âAmIabandoningyouall?Thenewbloods.â
Myability issilentdeath.Iamaweapon, likeitornot.Icanbeused.Icanbeuseful.Isitselfishtowalkaway?
Iget the feeling itâsaquestionMarehasaskedherselfmany times.Butheranswerisforme,andmealone.
âOf course not,â she mutters. âYouâre still here. And youâre one lessmonsterforustoworryabout.Onelessghost.â
TWENTY-FIVEMare
Even though my time at the Notch was fraught with exhaustion andheartbreak,itstillholdsacornerofmyheart.Foronce,Irememberthegoodmore vividly than the bad.Dayswhenwe returnedwith living newbloods,snatched from the jaws of execution. It felt like progress. Every face wasproofthatIwasnotaloneâandthatIcouldsavepeopleaseasilyaskillthem.Somedays,itfeltsimple.Right.Iâvebeenchasingthatsensationeversince.
ThePiedmontbasehasitsowntrainingfacilities,bothindoorandoutdoor.Some are equipped for Silvers, the rest for Red soldiers to learn war. TheColonel and his men, now numbering in the thousands and growing everyday, claim the shooting range. Newbloods like Ada, those with less-devastating abilities, trainwith him, perfecting their aim and combat skills.KilornshuttlesbetweentheirranksandthenewbloodsontheSilvertraininggrounds.Hebelongswithneithergroup,yethispresencesoothesmany.Thefish boy is the opposite of a threat, not tomention a familiar face.And hedoesnât fear them, like somany of the âtrueâRed soldiers.No,Kilorn hasseenenoughfrommetoneverbeafraidofanewbloodeveragain.
He accompanies me now, escorting me around the edge of a buildingaboutthesizeofanairjethangar.Butithasnorunway.âSilvergymnasium,âhe says, pointing at the structure. âAll sorts of stuff in there.Weights, anobstaclecourse,anarenaââ
âIget it.â I learnedmyskills inaplace like that, surroundedby leeringSilverswhowouldkillmeiftheysawonedropofmyblood.AtleastIdonâthavetoworryaboutthatanymore.âProbablyshouldnâttrainanywherewitharooforlightbulbs.â
Kilornsnorts.âProbablynot.â
Oneof thegymnasiumdoorsbangsopenandafigurestepsout,a towelaround his neck. Cal scrubs sweat off his face, still silver-flushed withexertion.Weightlifting,Iassume.
Henarrowshiseyesandclosesthedistancebetweenusasquicklyashecan. Still panting, he puts a hand out. Kilorn takes it with an open grin.
âKilorn.âCalnods.âTakingheronatour?â
âYeââ
âNah, sheâs going to start up with some of the others today.â Kilornspeaksoverme,andIresisttheurgetoelbowhiminthegut.
âWhat?â
Caldarkens.Heheavesadeepbreath.âIthoughtyouweregoingtogiveyourselfmoretime.â
Kilorn surprised me in the hospital, but heâs right. I canât sit aroundanymore. It feelsuseless.And Iamrestless,withangerboilingbeneathmyskin.IâmnotCameron.Iâmnotstrongenoughtostepback.EvenlightbulbshavestartedsparkingwhenIenteraroom.Ineedrelease.
âItâs been a few days. I thought it over.â I put my hands on my hips,bracingmyself againsthis inevitable counter.Without even realizing it,Calsettles into his patented arguing-with-Mare stance. Arms crossed, browfurrowed,feetfirmlyplanted.Withthesunbehindme,hehastosquint,andafterhisworkout,hereeksofsweat.
Kilorn,therottencoward,backsawayafewsteps.âIâllseeyouwhenyoufinish having a moment.â He tosses a shit-eating grin over his shoulder,leavingmetofendformyself.
âJustaminute,âIcallathisretreatingform.Heonlywaves,disappearingaroundthecornerofthegymnasium.âSomebackupheis.NotthatIneedit,âIaddquickly,âsinceitâsmydecisionandthisisjusttraining.Iâllbeperfectlyfine.â
âWell,halfmyworryisforthepeopleintheblastzone.AndtherestâŠâHetakesmyhand,using it topullmecloser. Iwrinklemynose,digging inmyheels.Notthatitmattersmuch.Islidealongthepavementanyway.
âYouâreallsweaty.â
Hegrinswrappingonearmaroundmyback.Noescape.âYep.â
Thescentisnâtentirelyunpleasant,eventhoughitshouldbe.âSoyouârenotgoingtofightmeonthis?â
âLikeyousaid.Yourdecision.â
âGood.Idonâthavetheenergytobickertwiceinonemorning.â
Heshifts andpushesmebackgently, tobetter seemy face.His thumbsgrazetheundersideofmyjaw.âGisa?â
âGisa.âIhuff,brushingawispofhairoutofmyface.WithouttheSilentStone,myhealthhasvastlyimproved,downtomynailsandhairgrowingatanormal rate again. Still gray ends, though. Thatâs never going away. âShekeeps bothering me about relocation. Go to Montfort. Leave everythingbehind.â
âAndyoutoldhergoahead,didnâtyou?â
Iblushscarlet. âIt just slippedout!SometimesâŠIdonât thinkbefore Ispeak.â
Helaughs.âWhat?You?â
âAndthenMomtookherside,ofcourse,andDaddidnâttakeasideatall,playing peacemaker, of course. Itâs likeââmy breath hitchesââitâs likenothingeverchanged.WecouldhavebeenbackintheStilts,inthekitchen.Iguess that shouldnât bother me so much. In the scheme of things.âEmbarrassed, I forcemyself to lookupatCal. It feelshorriblecomplainingaboutfamilytohim.Butheasked.Anditspilledout.HejuststudiesmelikeIâm battlefield terrain. âThis isnât something you want to think about. Itâsnothing.â
His grip onmy hand tightens before I can even think to pull away.HeknowsthewayIrun.âActually,IwasthinkingaboutallthesoldiersItrainedwith.Atthefront,especially.Iâveseensoldierscomebackwholeinbody,butmissingsomethingelse.Theycanâtsleepormaybetheycanâteat.Sometimesthey slide right back into thepastâinto amemoryof battle, triggeredby asoundorasmelloranyothersensation.â
Igulp andcirclemywristwith shaking fingers.Squeezing, I rememberthemanacles.Thetouchmakesmesick.âSoundsfamiliar.â
âYouknowwhathelps?â
OfcourseIdonât,orelseIâddoit.Ishakemyhead.
âNormalcy.Routine.Talking.Iknowyoudonâtexactlylikethelastone,âheadds, smirkingslowly.âButyour family justwantsyou tobesafe.Theywent through hellwhen youwereâŠgone.âHe still hasnât figured out theproper word for what happened to me. Captured or imprisoned doesnâtexactlycarrytherightweight.âAndnowthatyouâreback,theyâredoingwhatanyonewoulddo.Theyâreprotectingyou.Notthelightninggirl,notMareenaTitanos,butyou.MareBarrow.Thegirltheyknowandremember.Thatâsall.â
âRight.âInodslowly.âThanks.â
âSoaboutthattalkingthing.â
âOh,comeon,rightnow?â
His grin splits and he laughs, his stomachmuscles tensing against me.âFine,later.Aftertraining.â
âYoushouldgoshower.â
âAreyoukidding?Iâmgoingtobetwostepsbehindyouthewholetime.Youwanttotrain?Thenyouâregoingtotrainproperly.âHepokesmeinthesmallofmyback,makingmestumbleforward.âComeon.â
Theprinceisincessant,joggingbackwarduntilImatchhispace.Wepassthetrack,theoutdoorobstaclecourse,awidefieldofclose-cutgrass,nottomention several circles of dirt for sparring and a target rangemore than aquarter mile long. Some newbloods run the obstacle course and the track,whileafewpracticealoneinthefield.Idonâtrecognizethem,buttheabilitiesI see are familiar enough.A newblood akin to a nymph forms columns ofclearwaterbeforelettingthemdroptothegrass,creatingspreadingpuddlesof mud. A teleporter navigates the course with ease. She appears anddisappearsallovertheequipment,laughingatothershavingamoredifficulttime.Everytimeshejumps,mystomachtwists,rememberingShade.
Thesparringcirclesunsettlememostofall.Ihavenâtfoughtsomeonefortraining, for sport, since Evangeline so many months ago. It was not anexperienceIcaretorepeat.ButIâllcertainlyhaveto.
Calâsvoicekeepsme level, drawingmy focusback to the task at hand.âIâll get you on your weights routine starting tomorrow, but today we canjumpintotargetandtheory.â
TargetIunderstand.âTheory?â
Westopattheedgeofthelongrange,staringatthemistburningoffinthedistance.
âYou came into Training about a decade late for that. But before ourabilitiesareinfightingform,wespendalotoftimestudyingouradvantagesanddisadvantages,howtousethem.â
âLikenymphsbeatingburners,wateroverfire.â
âSortof.Thatâsaneasyone.Butwhatifyouâretheburner?âIjustshakemy head, and he grins. âSee, tricky. Takes a lot of memorization andcomprehension.Testing.Butyouâregoingtodothisonthefly.â
IforgothowsuitedtothisCalis.Heisafishinwater,atease,grinning.
Eager.Thisiswhatheâsgoodat,whatheunderstands,whereheexcels.Itâsalifelineinaworldthatneverseemstomakeanysense.
âIsittoolatetosayIdonâtwanttotrainanymore?â
Cal just laughs, tipping his head back. A bead of sweat rolls down hisneck.âYouârestuckwithme,Barrow.Now,hitthefirsttarget.âHestretchesout ahand, indicating a squaregraniteblock tenyards away,painted like abullâs-eye.âOnebolt.Deadcenter.â
Smirking,Idoasasked.Icanâtmissatthisrange.Asinglepurple-whitebolt streaks through the air and hits home. With a resounding crack, thelightningleavesablackmarkinthecenterofthebullâs-eye.
BeforeIhavetimetofeelproud,Calbodilyshovesmeaside.Offguard,Istumble,almostfallingintothedirt.âHey!â
Hejuststepsawayandpoints.âNexttarget.Twentyyards.â
âFine,âIhuff,turningmyeyesonthesecondblock.Iraisemyarmagain,ready to aimâand Cal shoves me again. This time my feet react morequickly,butnotenough,andmyboltgoeswild,cracklingintothedirt.
âThisfeelsveryunprofessional.â
âIusedtodothiswithsomeonefiringblanksnexttomyhead.Wouldyoupreferthat?âheasks.Ishakemyheadquickly.âThenhitâtheâtarget.â
Normally, Iâd be annoyed, but his smile spreads,makingme blush. Itâstraining,Ithink.Getaholdofyourself.
This time, when he goes to push me, I sidestep and fire, clipping thegranite marker. Another dodge, another shot. Cal starts to change up histactic,goingformylegsorevenburningafireballacrossmyvision.Thefirsttime he does that, I hit the ground so fast I end up spitting dirt. âHit thetargetâ becomes his anthem, followed by a yardmarker anywhere betweenfiftyandten.Heshoutsthetargetsatrandom,allwhileforcingmetodanceonmytoes.Itâsharderthanrunning,muchharder,andthesunturnsbrutalasthedaywearson.
âThetargetisaswift.Whatdoyoudo?âheasks.
Igritmyteeth,panting.âSpreadthebolt.Catchhimashedodgesââ
âDonâttellme,doit.â
Withagrunt,Iswingmyarminachopping,horizontalmotion,sendingaspray of voltage in the targetâs direction. The sparks are weaker, less
concentrated,butenoughtoslowaswiftdown.Nexttome,Caljustnodshishead,theonlyindicationthatIdidsomethingright.Itfeelsgoodanyway.
âThirtyyards.Banshee.â
Clappingmy hands tomy ears, I squint at the target, willing lightningwithoutuseofmyfingers.Aboltvaultsfrommybody,arcinglikearainbow.It misses, but I splash the electricity, making the sparks burst in differentdirections.
âFiveyards.Silence.â
The thoughtofanArven floodsmewithpanic. I try to focus.Myhandstraysforagunthatisnâtthere,andIpretendtoshootthetarget.âBang.â
Calsnortsabit.âThatdoesnâtcount,butokay.Fiveyards,magnetron.â
That one I know intimately.With all the force I canmuster, I rocket ablastoflightningatthetarget.Itcracksintwo,slidingapartatdeadcenter.
âTheory?âasoftvoicesaysbehindus.
Iwas so focused on the range that I didnât notice Julian standing by towatch,withKilornathisside.Myoldteacheroffersatightsmile,hishandsfolded behind his back in his usual way. Iâve never seen him so casuallydressed,witha lightcottonshirtandshorts revealing thinchicken legs.Calshouldgethimonaweightsroutinetoo.
âTheory,âCalconfirms.âAfterafashion.âHewavesmedown,givingmeabriefrespite.ImmediatelyIsitinthedirt,stretchingoutmylegs.Despitetheconstant dodging, itâs the lightning that makes me tired. Without theadrenalineofbattleorthethreatofdeathhangingovermyhead,mystaminaisdecidedlylessened.NottomentionthefactthatIâmaboutsixmonthsoutofpractice. With even motions, Kilorn stoops and puts a frosty water bottledownatmyside.
âThoughtyoumightneedthis,âhesayswithawink.
I grin up at him. âThanks,â Imanage, before gulping down a few coldmouthfuls.âWhatareyoudoingdownhere,Julian?â
âJustonmywaytothearchives.ThenIdecidedtoseewhatall thefusswasabout.âHegesturesoverhisshoulder.Ijoltatthesightofadozenorsoassembledontheedgeoftherange,allofthemstaringatus.Atme.âSeemsyouhaveabitofanaudience.â
Igritmyteeth.Great.
Calshifts,justabit, tohidemefromview.âSorry.Didnâtwanttobreakyourconcentration.â
âItâsfine,âItellhim,forcingmyselftostand.Mylimbsgroaninprotest.
âWell,Iâllseeyoubothlater,âJuliansays,lookingbetweenmeandCal.
Ianswerquickly.âWecangowithyouââ
Buthecutsmeoffwithaknowingsmirk,gesturingtowardthecrowdofbystanders.âOh,I thinkyouhave introductions tomake.Kilorn,wouldyoumind?â
âNotatall,âKilornreplies.Iwanttosmackthegrinrightoffhisface,andheknowsit.âAfteryou,Mare.â
âFine,âIforcethroughaclenchedjaw.
Fightingmy natural instinct to slink away from attention, I take a fewstepstowardthenewbloods.Afewmore.Afewmore.UntilIreachthem,CalandKilornalongside.IntheNotch,Ididnâtwantfriends.Friendsarehardertosaygood-byeto.Thathasnâtchanged,butIseewhatKilornandJulianaredoing.Icanâtclosemyselfofffromothersanymore.Itrytoforceawinningsmileatthepeoplearoundme.
âHi.IâmMare.âItsoundsstupidandIfeelstupid.
One of the newbloods, the teleporter, bobs her head. She has a forest-greenMontfortuniform,longlimbs,andcloselycroppedbrownhair.âYeah,we know. Iâm Arezzo,â she says, sticking out a hand. âI jumped you andCaloreoutofArcheon.â
NowonderIdidnâtrecognizeher.Theminutesaftermyescapearestillablur of fear, adrenaline, and overpowering relief. âRight, of course. Thankyouforthat.âIblink,tryingtorememberher.
The others are just as friendly and open, as pleased to meet anothernewblood as I am. Everyone in this group is Montfort-born or Montfort-allied, in green uniformswithwhite triangles on the breast and insignia oneachbicep.Someare easy todecipherâtwowavy lines for thenymph-likenewblood,threearrowsfortheswift.Noonehasbadgesormedals, though.Thereâsnotellingwhomightbeanofficer.Butallaremilitary-trained,ifnotmilitary-raised.They use last names and have firm handshakes, each one aborn or made soldier. Most know Cal on sight and nod at him in a veryofficialmanner.Kilorntheygreetlikeanoldfriend.
âWhereâsElla?âKilornasks,directinghisquestionat amanwithblack
skinandshockinglygreenhair.Dyed,clearly.HisnameisRafe.âIsentheramessagetocomedownandmeetMare.Tytontoo.â
âLast I saw, they were practicing on top of Storm Hill. Which,technicallyââheglancesatme,almostapologeticââiswhereelectriconsaresupposedtotrain.â
âWhatâsanelectricon?âIask,andimmediatelyfeelfoolish.
âYou.â
Isigh,sheepish.âRight.IfiguredthataboutassoonasIasked.â
Rafefloatsasparkoverhishand, lettingitweavebetweenhisfingers. Ifeel it, but not likemyown lightning.Thegreen sparks answer tohimandhimalone.âItâsanoddword,butweâreoddthings,arenâtwe?â
Istareathim,almostbreathlesswithexcitement.âYouâreâŠlikeme?â
Henods,indicatingthelightningboltsonhissleeves.âYes,weare.â
StormHill is just like it sounds. It risesatagentle incline in themiddleofanother field at the opposite end of the base, as far from the airfield aspossible.Lesschanceofhittingajetwithastrayboltof lightning.Iget thesensethehillisanewaddition,judgingbythelooseearthbeneathmyfeetasweapproachthesummit.Thegrassisnewgrowthtoo,theworkofagreenyornewbloodequivalent.Itâsmorelushthanthetrainingfields.Butthecrownof theslope isamess,charredearthpackedflat,crisscrossedbycracksandthesmellofadistant thunderstorm.While therestof thebaseenjoysbrightblue skies, a black cloud revolves over Storm Hill. A thunderhead, risingthousandsoffeet into theskylikeacolumnofdarksmoke.Iâveneverseenanythinglikeit,socontrolledandcontained.
Theblue-hairedwomanfromArcheonstandsbeneaththecloud,herarmsoutstretched,palmsuptothethunder.Astraight-backedmanwithswoopingwhitehairlikeawaveâscreststandsbackfromher,thinandleaninhisgreenuniform.Bothhavelightning-boltinsignia.
Bluesparksdanceoverthewomanâshands,smallasworms.
Rafe leads us,Cal close atmy side.Even thoughhe dealswith his fairshareoflightning,theblackcloudputshimonedge.Hekeepsglancingup,asif expecting it to explode. Some blue flashes weakly in the darkness,illuminatingitfromwithin.Thunderrumbleswithit,lowandthrumminglikeacatâspurr.Itshiversmybones.
âElla,Tyton,âCalcalls.Hewavesahand.
They turn at their names, and the flashing in the clouds abruptly stops.Thewomanlowersherhands,tuckingawayherpalms,andthethunderheadstartstodissolvebeforeoureyes.Sheboundsoverinleapsofenergy,trailedbythemorestoicman.
âIwaswonderingwhenwewouldmeet,â she says, her voice high andbreathytomatchherdaintystature.Withoutwarning,shetakesmyhandsandkissesmeonbothcheeks.Hertouchshocks,sparksleapingfromherskintomine.Itdoesnâthurt,butitcertainlyperksmeup.âIâmElla,andyouâreMare,ofcourse.AndthistalldrinkofwaterisTyton.â
The man in question is certainly tall, with tawny skin, a sprinkling offreckles,andajawsharperthantheedgeofacliff.Withaflickofhishead,hetosseshiswhitehairtooneside,lettingitfalloverhislefteye.Hewinkswiththeright.Iexpectedhimtobeold,withhair likethat,buthecanâtbemorethantwenty-five.âHelloâisallhesays,hisvoicedeepandcertain.
âHi.â I nod at them, overwhelmed both by their presence andmy owninabilitytoactanywhereclosetonormal.âSorry,thisisabitofashock.â
Tyton rolls his eyes, butElla bursts out laughing.Ahalf second later, Iunderstandandcringe.
Calchucklesatmyside.âThatwasprettyhorrible,Mare.âHenudgesmyshoulderasdiscreetlyashecan,abrushofwarmthemanatingfromhim.AverysmallcomfortinthePiedmontheat.
âWe understand,â Ella offers quickly, stealing the words away. âItâsalwaysoverwhelmingtomeetanotherArdent,letalonethreewhoshareyourability. Right, boys?â She elbows Tyton in the chest and he barely reacts,annoyed.Rafejustnods.Iget thefeelingElladoesmostof thetalkingand,basedonwhatIrememberfromthebluelightningstorminArcheon,mostofthefighting.âIdespairofyouboth,âEllamutters,shakingherheadatthem.âButIhaveyounow,donâtI,Mare?â
Hereagernatureandopensmiletakemeseverelyoffguard.Peoplethisnicearealwayshidingsomething.IswallowmysuspicionenoughtogiveherwhatIhopeisagenuinesmile.
âThank you for bringing her,â she adds to Cal, her tone shifting. Thecheery,blue-hairedpixiedrawsupherspineandhardenshervoice,becomingasoldierbeforemyeyes.âIthinkwecantakehertrainingfromhere.â
Calbarksoutalowlaugh.âAlone?Areyouserious?â
âWereyou?âsheshootsback,narrowinghereyes.âIsawyourâpractice.â
Littleburstsonatargetrangeishardlysufficienttomaximizeherabilities.Ordoyouknowhowtocoaxastormoutofher?â
Based on the way his lips twist, I can tell he wants to say somethingdecidedlyinappropriate.Istophimbeforehecan,grabbinghiswrist.âCalâsmilitarybackgroundââ
ââis fine for conditioning.âElla cutsme off. âAndperfect for trainingyou to fight Silvers theway he does. But your abilities stretch beyond hisunderstanding. There are things he canât teach you, things you must learneitherthehardwayâbyyourselfâortheeasywayâŠwithus.â
Herlogicissound,albeitunsettling.TherearethingsCalcanâtteachme,thingshedoesnâtunderstand. I rememberwhen I tried to trainCameronâIdidnât know her ability the sameway I knewmine. Itwas like speaking adifferentlanguage.Iwasstillabletocommunicate,butnottruly.
âIâllwatch,then,âCalsayswithstonyresolve.âIsthatacceptable?â
Ella grins, her mood bouncing back to cheerful. âOf course. I would,however,adviseyoutostandbackandstayalert.Lightningisabitofawildfilly.Nomatterhowmuchyoureinherin,sheâllalwaystrytorunwild.â
He gives me one last look and the tiniest quirk of a supportive smilebeforeheadingtotheedgeofthehilltop,wellbeyondtheringofblastmarks.Whenhegetsthere,heflopsdownandleansbackonhisarms,eyestrainedonme.
âHeâsnice.Foraprince,âEllaoffers.
âAndaSilver,âRafepipesin.
Iglanceathim,confused.âTherearenâtniceSilversinMontfort?â
âIwouldnâtknow.Iâveneverbeen,âhereplies.âIâmPiedmont-born,fromdownintheFloridians.âHedotshisfingersintheair,illustratingthechainofswampyislands.âMontfortrecruitedmeafewmonthsago.â
âAndyoutwo?âIlookbetweenEllaandTyton.
Sheâsquicktoreply.âPrairie.TheSandhills.Thatâsraidercountry,andmyfamily lived on the move. Eventually we kept west into the mountains.Montforttookusinneartenyearsago.ThatâswhereImetTyton.â
âMontfort-born,âhesays,asifthatâsanyexplanation.Notverytalkative,probablybecauseEllahasenoughwordsforallofus.Shesteersmetowardthecenterofwhatcanonlybecalledablastzone,untilIâmdirectlybeneaththestill-dissipatingstormcloud.
âWell, letâs see what weâre working with,â Ella says, nudging me intoplace. The breeze rustles her hair, sending bright blue locks over oneshoulder.Moving in tandem, the other two take up spots aroundme, untilweâreclusteredinthefourcornersofasquare.âStartsmall.â
âWhy?Icanââ
Tytonlooksup.âShewantstocheckyourcontrol.â
Ellanods.
Iheaveabreath.ExcitedasIamwithfellowelectricons,Ifeelabitlikean overnannied child. âFine.âCuppingmyhands, I call forth the lightning,lettingjaggedsparksofpurpleandwhitesplayaroundthebowlofmyfingers.
âPurplesparks?âRafesays,grinning.âNice.â
I flicker between the unnatural colors on their heads, smirking. Green,blue,whitelocks.
âIhavenoplanstodyemyhair.â
SummerhitsPiedmontwithaboilingvengeance,andCalistheonlypersonwho can stand it.Gasping from exertion and heat, I smack him in the ribsuntil he rolls away. He does so slowly, lazily, almost drifting off to sleep.Instead, he goes too far and falls right off the narrow bed onto the hard,laminatedfloor.Thatwakeshimup.Hevaultsforward,blackhairstickingupatangles,nakedasanewborn.
âMycolors,âhecurses,rubbinghisskull.
Ihavelittlepityforhispain.âIfyoudidnâtinsistonsleepinginaglorifiedbroomcloset,thiswouldnâtbeanissue.âEventheceiling,blocksofspeckledplaster,isdepressing.Andthesingleopenwindowdoesnothingfortheheat,especially in themiddleof theday. Idonâtwant to thinkabout thewallsorhowthintheymightbe.Atleasthedoesnâthavetobunkwithothersoldiers.
Still on the floor,Cal grumbles. âI like thebarracks.âHe fumbles for apairof shortsbeforepulling themon.Thengo thebracelets, snappingbackintoplaceonhiswrists.Thelatchesarecomplicated,butheslipsthemonlikeitâssecondnature.âAndyoudonâthavetosharearoomwithyoursister.â
Ishiftandthrowashirtovermyhead.Ourmiddaybreakwillbeoverinafewminutes,andIâmexpecteduponStormHillsoon.âYouâreright.Iâlljustgetover that little thing Ihaveabout sleepingalone.âOfcourse,by thing Imean still-debilitating trauma. I have terrible nightmares if there isnâtsomeoneintheroomwithme.
Calstills,shirthalfoverhishead.Hesucksinabreath,wincing.âThatâsnotwhatImeant.â
Itâsmyturntogrumble.IpickatCalâssheets.Military-issue,washedsomanytimestheyârealmostwornthrough.âIknow.â
Thebedshifts,springsgroaning,asheleanstowardme.Hislipsbrushthecrownofmyhead.âAnymorenightmares?â
âNo.âIanswersoquicklyheraisesaneyebrowinsuspicion,butitâsthetruth. âAs longasGisaâs there.She says Idonâtmakea sound.Her,on theotherhandâŠIforgotsomuchnoisecouldcomefromsuchasmallperson.âIlaugh tomyself, and find the courage to look him in the eye. âWhat aboutyou?â
Back in the Notch, we slept side by side. Most nights he tossed andturned,mutteringinhissleep.Sometimeshecried.
Amuscleripplesinhisjaw.âJustafew.Maybetwiceaweek,thatIcanremember.â
âOf?â
âMy father,mostly.You.What it felt like to be fighting you,watchingmyselftrytokillyou,andnotbeingabletodoathingtostopit.âHeflexeshishandsinmemoryofthedream.âAndMaven.Whenhewaslittle.Sixorseven.â
Thenamestillfeelslikeacidinmybones,eventhoughitâsbeensolongsinceIlastsawhim.Hehasgivenseveralbroadcastsanddeclarationssince,butIrefusetowatchthem.Mymemoriesofhimareterrorizingenough.Calknows that,andoutof respect forme,heabsolutelydoesnot talkabouthisbrother.Untilnow.Youasked,Iscoldmyself.Igritmyteeth,mostlytostopfrom vomiting up all thewords I havenât told him. Too painful for him. Itwonât help to know what kind of monster his brother was forced intobecoming.
Hepusheson,eyesfarawayinthememory.âHeusedtobeafraidofthedark,untilonedayhe justwasnât. Inmydreams,heâsplaying inmyroom,sortofwalkingaround.Lookingatmybooks.Anddarknessfollowshim.Itrytotellhim.Trytowarnhim.Hedoesnâtcare.Hedoesnâtmind.AndIcanâtstop it. It swallows him whole.â Slowly, Cal runs a hand down his face.âDonâtneedtobeawhispertoknowwhatthatmeans.â
âElaraisdead,âImurmur,movingsoweâresidebyside.Asifthatâsanycomfort.
âAndhestilltookyou.Hestilldidhorriblethings.âCalstaresatthefloor,unabletoholdmygaze.âIjustcanâtunderstandwhy.â
I could keep quiet.Or distract him.But thewords boil furiously inmythroat.Hedeservesthetruth.Reluctant,Itakehishand.
âHe remembers loving you, loving your father. But she took that loveaway,hesaid.Cutitoutofhimlikeatumor.ShetriedtodothesamewithhisfeelingsformeââandThomasbeforeââbutitdidnâtwork.CertainkindsofloveâŠâMybreath hitches. âHe said theyâre harder to remove. I think theattempt twistedhim,more thanhe alreadywas.Shemade it impossible forhim to letgoofme.Everythinghe felt forbothofuswascorrupted,madeinto something worse.With you, hatred.Withme, obsession. And there isnothing either of us could do to change him. I donât even think she couldundoherownwork.â
Hisonlyreply issilence, letting therevelationhang in theair.Myheartbreaksfortheexiledprince.IgivehimwhatIthinkheneeds.Myhand,mypresence,andmypatience.Afteralong,longtime,heopenshiseyes.
âAs far as I know, there are nonewbloodwhispers,â he says. âNot onethatIâvefoundorbeentoldabout.AndIâvedonemyfairshareofsearching.â
ThisIdidnotexpect.Iblink,confused.
âNewbloods are stronger than Silvers. And Elara was just Silver. IfsomeonecanâŠcanfixhim,isnâtitworthittotry?â
âIdonâtknowâisallIcansay.Justtheideanumbsme,andIdonâtknowhowtofeel.IfMavencouldbehealed,sotospeak,wouldthatbeenoughtoredeemhim?Certainly itwonâtchangewhatheâsdone.Notonly tomeandCal,tohisfather,buttohundredsofotherpeople.âIreallydonâtknow.â
ButitgivesCalhope.Iseeitthere,likeatinylightinthedistanceofhiseyes. I sigh, smoothing his hair.He needs another cutwith a steadier handthanhisown.âIguessifEvangelinecanchange,maybeanyonecan.â
Hissuddenlaughechoeslowinhischest.âOh,Evangelineisthesameasalways.Shejusthadmoreincentivetoletyougothantoletyoustay.â
âHowdoyouknow?â
âBecauseIknowwhotoldhertodoit.â
âWhat?âIasksharply.
With a sigh,Cal gets up and crosses the room.Theoppositewall is allcabinetry,andmostlyempty.Hedoesnâthavemanypossessionsbeyondhis
clothes anda fewbitsof tacticalgear.Tomysurprise,hepaces. It setsmyteethonedge.
âThe Guard blocked every attempt I made to get you back,â he says,handsmovingrapidlyashespeaks.âNomessages,nosupportforinfiltration.Nospiesofanykind.Iwasnâtgoingtositinthatfreezingbaseandwaitforsomeonetotellmewhattodo.SoImadecontactwithsomeoneItrust.â
Realizationpunchesmeinthegut.âEvangeline?â
âMycolors,no,âhegasps.âButNanabel,mygrandmotherâmyfatherâsmotherââ
AnabelLerolan.Theoldqueen.âYoucallherâŠNanabel?â
Heflushessilverandmyheartskipsabeat.âForceofhabit,âhegrumbles.âAnyway, shenevercame tocourtwhileElarawas there,but I thought shemight once she died. She knew what Elara was, and she knows me. Shewouldhaveseenthroughthequeenâslie.ShewouldhaveunderstoodMavenâsroleinourfatherâsdeath.â
Communicatingwiththeenemy.ThereâsnowayFarleyknewaboutthis,or theColonel.Nortanprinceornot,eitherof themwouldhaveshothimiftheydid.
âIwasdesperate.Andinhindsight,itwasreally,reallystupid,âheadds.âButitworked.Shepromisedtogetyoufreewhentheopportunitypresenteditself.Theweddingwasthatopportunity.ShemusthavegivensupporttoVoloSamostoensureyourescape,anditwasworthit.Youâreherenowbecauseofher.â
I speak slowly. I must understand. âSo you let her know the raid onArcheonwascoming?â
He moves back to me with blinding speed, kneeling to take both myhands.Hisfingersareblazinghot,butIforcemyselfnottopullaway.âYes.SheâsmoreopentochannelingwithMontfortthanIrealized.â
âShecommunicatedwiththem?â
Heblinks.âShestilldoes.â
For a second, I wish I had colors to curse with. âHow? How is thispossible?â
âIassumeyoudonâtwantanexplanationofhowradiosandbroadcasterswork.âHesmiles. Idonât laughat the joke.âMontfort isobviouslyopen toworkingwithSilvers,inwhatevercapacity,toreachtheirgoals.Thisisanââ
he searches for the right wordsââeven partnership. They want the samething.â
I almost scoff indisbelief.RoyalSilversworkingwithMontfortâŠandtheGuard?Itsoundspositivelyludicrous.âAndwhatdotheywant?â
âMavenoffthethrone.â
A chill goes throughme despite the summer heat and the closeness ofCalâsbody.TearsIcanâtcontrolspringtomyeyes.
âButtheystillwantathrone.â
âNoââ
âASilverkingforMontforttocontrol,butaSilverkingallthesame.Redsinthedirt,asalways.â
âIpromiseyou,thatâsnotwhatthisis.â
âLong live Tiberias the Seventh,â I whisper. He flinches. âWhen thehousesrebelled,Maveninterrogatedthem.Andeveryoneofthemdiedsayingthosewords.â
His face falls in sadness. âI never asked for that,â hemurmurs. âNeverwantedthat.â
Theyoungmankneeling in frontofmewasborn toacrown.Wanthadnothingtodowithhisupbringing.Wantwasstampedoutofhimatayoungage,replacedwithduty,withwhathiswretchedfathertoldhimakingshouldbe.
âThenwhatdoyouwant?âWhenKilornaskedmethatsamequestion,itgavemefocus,purpose,aclearpathindarkness.âWhatdoyouwant,Cal?â
Heanswersquickly,eyesblazing.âYou.âHisfingerstightenonmine,hotbut steady in temperature.Heâsholdinghimselfbackasmuchashecan.âIaminlovewithyou,andIwantyoumorethananythingelseintheworld.â
Loveisnotawordweuse.Wefeelit,wemeanit,butwedonâtsayit.Itfeelssofinal,adeclarationfromwhichthereisnoeasyreturn.Iâmathief.Iknowmyexits.AndIwasaprisoner.Ihatelockeddoors.Buthiseyesaresoclose,soeager.AnditâswhatIfeel.Eventhoughthewordsterrifyme,theyarethetruth.DidnâtIsayIwouldstarttellingthetruth?
âIloveyou,âIwhisper,leaningforwardtobracemyforeheadagainsthis.Eyelashesthatarenotmyownflutterclosetomyskin.âPromiseme.Promiseyou wonât leave. Promise you wonât go back. Promise you wonât undo
everythingmybrotherdiedfor.â
Hislowsighwashesacrossmyface.
âIpromise.â
âRememberwhenwetoldeachothernodistractions?â
âYes.âHe runs a blazing finger overmy earrings, touching eachone inturn.
âDistractme.â
TWENTY-SIXMare
My training continues twofold, leaving me exhausted. Itâs for the best.Exhaustionmakesiteasytosleepandhardtoworry.Everytimedoubttugsatmy brain, over Cal or Piedmont or whatever comes next, Iâm too tired toentertainthethoughts.IrunandweighttrainwithCalinthemornings,takingadvantageofthelastingeffectsofSilentStone.Aftertheirheaviness,nothingphysical seemsdifficult.Healso slips inabitof theorybetween laps, eventhoughIassurehimEllahasitcovered.Hejustshrugsandkeepson.Idonâtmention that her training ismorebrutal, designed tokill.Calwas raised tofight, but with a skin healer in the wings. His version of sparring is verydifferentfromhers,whichfocusesontotalannihilation.Calismoreorientedon defense. His unwillingness to kill Silvers unless absolutely necessary isthrownintoharshreliefbymyhourswiththeelectricons.
Ella isabrawler.Her stormsgatherwithblindingspeed, spinningblackcloudsoutofclearskiestofuelamercilessfusilladeoflightning.IrememberherinArcheon,wieldingagunwithonehandandlightningintheother.OnlyIrisCygnetâsquickthinkingkeptherfromturningMaventoapileofsmokingash.Idonâtthinkmylightningwilleverbeasdestructiveashers,notwithoutyearsof training,buther tutelage is invaluable.Fromher I learn that stormlightningismorepowerfulthananyotherkind,hotterthanthesurfaceofthesun, with the strength to split even diamondglass. Just one bolt like hersdrains me so fully I can barely stand, but she does it for fun and targetpractice.Onceshemademerunthroughaminefieldofherstormlightningtotestmyfootwork.
Weblightning,asRafecallsit,ismorefamiliar.Heusesboltsandsparksthrownfromhishandsandfeet,usuallyinsplayingwebsofgreen,toprotecthisbody.Whilehecancallstormstoo,heprefersmoreaccuratemethods,andhefightswithprecision.Hislightningcantakeform.Heâsbestattheshield,aweavingcrackleof electric energy that can stopabullet, andawhip to cutthrough rock and bone. The latter is striking to behold: a fraying arc ofelectricity thatmoves likedeadly rope, able toburn throughanything in itspath.Ifeeltheforceofiteverytimewespar.Itdoesnâthurtmeasmuchasitwouldanyoneelse,butany lightningIcanâtwrenchcontrolofstrikesdeep.
Usually I end the day with my hair on end, and when Cal kisses me, healwaysgetsashockortwo.
The quiet Tyton doesnât spar with any of us, or with anyone, for thatmatter.Hehasgivennonametohisspecialty,butEllacallsitpulselightning.Hiscontrolofelectricity isastounding.Thepurewhitesparksaresmallbutconcentrated,containingthestrengthofastormbolt.Likealive-wirebullet.
âIâd showyoubrain lightning,â hemutters tomeoneday, âbut I doubtanyonewouldvolunteertohelpthedemonstration.â
Wepassthesparringcirclestogether,beginningthelongwalkacrossthebase to Storm Hill. Now that Iâve been with them awhile, Tyton actuallyspeaksmore than a fewwords tome. Still, itâs a surprise to hear his slow,methodicvoice.
âWhatâsbrainlightning?âIask,intrigued.
âWhatitsoundslike.â
âHelpful,âElla sneers atmy side.She continuesbraidingher vividhairbackfromherface.Ithasnâtbeendyedinafewweeks,asevidencedbythedirty-blondhairshowingattheroot.âHemeansthatahumanbodyrunsonapulseofelectricalsignals.Verysmall,ridiculouslyfast.Difficulttodetectandalmost impossible to control. Theyâre most concentrated in the brain, andeasiesttoharnessthere.â
MyeyeswidenasIlookatTyton.Hejustkeepswalking,whitehairoveroneeye,handsshovedintohispockets.Unassuming.AsifwhatEllajustsaidisnâtterrifying.âYoucancontrolsomeoneâsbrain?âColdfearripsmelikeaknifetothegut.
âNotthewayyouârethinking.â
âHowdoyouknowââ
âBecauseyouâreveryeasytopredict,Mare.Iâmnotamindreader,butIknowsixmonthsatthemercyofawhisperwouldmakeanyonesuspicious.âWith an annoyed sigh, he raises a hand.A spark brighter than the sun andmoreblindingweavesthroughhisfingers.Onetouchfromitcouldturnamaninsideoutwithitsforce.âEllaâstryingtosayIcanlookatapersonanddropthemlikeasackofhammers.Affecttheelectricityintheirbody.GivethemaseizureifIâmfeelingmerciful.Killthemoutrightifnot.â
IlookbackatEllaandRafe,blinkingbetweenthem.âHaveeitherofyoulearnedthat?â
Bothscoff.âNeitherofushasanywherenear thecontrol required,âEllasays.
âTytoncankill someonediscreetly,withoutanyoneelseknowing,âRafeexplains.âWecouldbehavingdinnerinthemesshallandthepremierdropsontheothersideoftheroom.Seizure.Hedies.Tytondoesnâtblinkandkeepsoneating.Ofcourse,âheadds,clappingTytonontheback,ânotthatwethinkyouwouldeverdothat.â
Tytonbarelyreacts.âComforting.â
Whatamonstrousâandusefulâwaytouseourability.
Inthesparringcircles,someoneyellsinfrustration.Thesounddrawsmyattention,andIturntoseeapairofnewbloodsgrappling.Kilornoverseesthesparandwavesatus.
âGoingtogivetheringsatrytoday?âhesays,gesturingatthecirclesofdirtmarkingthesparringgrounds.âHavenâtseenthelightninggirlsparkupinalongwhile.â
Ifeelasurprisinglyeagertug.SparringwithEllaorRafeisexciting,butmatching lightning to lightning isnât exactly helpful. Thereâs no reason topracticefightingsomethingwewonâtencounterforalongtime.
EllaanswersbeforeIcan,steppingforward.âWesparonStormHill.Andweârealreadylate.â
Kilornjustraisesaneyebrow.Hewantsmyanswer,nothers.
âActually,Iwouldnâtmind.WeshouldbepracticingagainstwhatMavenhasinhisarsenal.âItrytokeepmytonediplomatic.IlikeElla;IlikeRafe.IevenlikewhatIknowofTyton,whichisverylittle.ButIhaveavoicetoo.AndIthinkwecanonlygosofarfightingeachother.âIâdliketosparheretoday.â
Ellaopenshermouthtoargue,butitâsTytonwhospeaksfirst.âFine,âhesays.âWho?â
TheclosestthingtoMavenwehave.
âYouknow,Iâmalotbetteratthisthanheis.â
Calstretchesanarmoverhishead,thebicepstrainingagainstthincotton.HegrinsasIwatch,enjoyingtheattention.Ijustglowerandcrossmyarmsovermychest.Hehasnâtagreedtomyrequest,buthehasnâtsaidnoeither.AndthefactthatCalcutshorthisowntrainingroutinetocometothesparringcirclessaysenough.
âGood.Thatwillmakefightinghimeasier.âIâmcarefulwithmywords.Fight, not kill. Ever since Cal mentioned his search for someone who canâfixâhisbrother,Ihavetotreadlightly.AsmuchasIwanttokillMavenforwhat he did tome, I canât voice those thoughts. âIf I train against you, hewonâtbedifficultatall.â
He scuffs the dirt beneath his feet. Testing the terrain. âWe alreadyfought.â
âUndertheinfluenceofawhisper.Someoneelsepulledthestrings.Thatâsnotthesame.â
Attheedgeofthecircle,abitofacrowdgatherstowatch.WhenCalandI step onto the same sparring ground, word travels quickly. I think Kilornmightevenbetakingbets,weavingthroughthedozenorsonewbloodswithashiftygrin.OneofthemisReese,thehealerIstruckwhenIwasfirstrescued.HeliesinwaitliketheskinhealersusedtowhenItrainedwithSilvers.Readytofixwhateverwebreak.
Myfingersdrumagainstmyarms,eachoneticking.Inmybones,Icalltolightning.Itrisesatmycommand,andIfeelthecloudsgatheroverhead.âAreyou going to keep wasting my time so you can strategize, or can we getstarted?â
Hejustwinksandcontinueshisstretches.âAlmostdone.â
âFine.â Stooping, I brush the finely ground dirt overmy hands,wipingawayanysweat.Caltaughtmethat.Hegrinsanddoesthesame.Then,tothesurpriseanddelightofmorethanafewpeople,hepullshisshirtcleanoffandtossesittotheside.
Better food and hard training have made us both more muscular, butwhereIamleanandagile,smoothlycurved,heisallhardanglesandcutlinesofdefinition.Iâveseenhimundressedmanytimesandstillitgivesmepause,sending a flush from my cheeks all the way down to my toes. I swallowforcibly.At the edge ofmy vision, bothElla andRafe look him overwithinterest.
âTryingtodistractme?âIpretendtoshrugitoff,ignoringtheheatallovermyface.
Hecockshisheadtoside,apictureofinnocence.Heevenclapshishandtohis chest, forcing a falsegasp as if to sayWho,me? âYouâll just fry theshirtanyway.Iâmsavingsupplies.But,âheadds,beginningtocircle,âagoodsoldieruseseveryadvantageathisdisposal.â
Aboveme,theskycontinuestodarken.NowIcandefinitelyhearKilorntakingbets.âOh,youthinkyouhavetheadvantage?Thatâscute.âImatchhismovements, circling in the opposite direction. My feet move of their ownaccord. I trust them. The adrenaline feels familiar, born of the Stilts, thetrainingarena,everybattleIâveeverbeenin.Ittakesholdinmynerves.
IhearCalâsvoiceinmyhead,evenashetenses,settlingintoanall-too-familiarstance.Burner.Tenyards.Myhandsfalltomysides,fingersswirlingaspurple-whitesparksjumpinandoutofmyskin.Acrossthecircle,heflickshiswristsâandsearingheatblazesacrossmypalms.
Iyelp,jumpingbacktoseemysparksareredflame.Hetookthemfromme.With a burst of energy, I thrust them back into lightning. They ripple,wantingtobecomefire,butIholdmyconcentration,keepingthesparksfromburstingoutofcontrol.
âFirst blow toCalore!âKilorn yells at the edge of the circle.Amix ofgroansandcheersrunsthroughthestill-growingcrowd.Heclapsandthumpshis feet. It reminds me of the arena, the Stilts, when he yelled for Silverchampions.âLetâsgo,Mare,pickitup!â
A good lesson, I realize.Cal didnât have to open our spar by revealingsomething Iwasnâtprepared for.Hecouldhaveheld itback.Waited tousethatunseenadvantage.Instead,heplayedthatpiecefirst.Heâsgoingeasyonme.
Firstmistake.
Ten yards away,Cal beckons, indicating forme to continue.A taunt asmuch as anything.Heâs best on the defense.Hewantsme to come to him.Fine.
At theedgeof thecircle,Ellamuttersawarning to thecrowd.âIâdstepbackifIwereyou.â
Myfistclenches,andlightningstrikes. It ripsdownwithblindingforce,hittingthecircledeadcenter,likeanarrowtoabullâs-eye.Butitdoesnâtdigintotheground,crackingtheearthasitshould.Instead,Iuseacombinationof storm and web. The purple-white bolt flares across the sparring circle,racingoverthedirtatkneeheight.Calthrowsupanarmtoprotecthiseyesfrom thebright flash,using theotherhand to ripple the sparksaroundhim,morphingthemtoblazingblueflame.Isprintandburstfromthelightninghecanâtbeartolookat.Witharoar,Islideintohislegs,knockinghimdown.Hehitsthesparksandflops,seizingfromtheshockasIpopbacktomyfeet.
Red-hot heat brushes my face, but I push it back with a shield ofelectricity.Then Iâmon theground too, legs sweptout fromunderme.MyfacehitsthegroundhardandI tastedirt.Ahandgrabsmyshoulder,ahandthatburns,andIswingoutwithanelbow,catchinghis jaw.Thatburns too.Hisentirebody is aflame.Redandorange,yellowandblue.Wavesofheatdistortionpulsefromhim,makingtheentireworldswayandundulate.
Scrambling,Iscoopmyarmagainstthedirtandhaul,chuckingasmuchasIcanintohisface.Heflinches,anditsmotherssomeofhisfire,givingmeenoughtimetogettomyfeet.Withanotherswingofmyarms,Ipullawhipoflightningintoform,sparkingandhissingintheair.Hedodgeseachblow,rolling and ducking, light as a dancer on his feet. Fireballs spit from myelectricity, the pieces I canât entirely control. Cal pulls them into churningwhipsofhisown,surroundingthecircleinaninferno.Purpleandredclash,sparkandburn,untilthepackeddirtbeneathuschurnslikeastormysea,andtheskygoesblack,rainingthunderbolts.
Hedancescloseenoughforablow.IfeeltheforceofhisfistrippleasIdropbeneathit,andIsmellburnedhair.Igetinastrikeofmyown,landingabrutal elbow to a kidney. He grunts in pain but responds in kind, rippingflamingfingersdownmyback.Myfleshrippleswithfreshblisters,andIbitemy lip to keep from screaming. Cal would stop the fight if he knew howmuchthishurt.Andithurts.Painshrieksupmyspineandmykneesbuckle.Scrambling,Ithrowoutmyarmstostopafall,andthelightningpushesmetomyfeet.IpushthroughthesearingpainbecauseIhavetoknowwhatitfeelslike.Mavenwillprobablydoworsewhenthetimecomes.
Iusewebagain,adefensivemaneuvertokeephishandsoffme.Astrongbolt racesuphis leg, intohismuscles,nerves,andbones.Theskeletonofaprince flashes inmyhead. Ipullback theblowenough toavoidpermanentdamage. He twitches, falling onto his side. Iâm on him without thinking,workingthebraceletsIâveseenhimlatchandunlatchadozentimes.Beneathme,hiseyesrollandhetriestofightmeoff.Thebraceletsgoflying,glintingpurpleagainstmysparks.
Anarmwrapsaroundmymiddle, flippingmeover.Thegroundagainstmybackislikeatongueofwhite-hotfire.Iscreamthistime,losingcontrol.Sparksburstfrommyhands,andCalfliesbackofhisownaccord,scramblingfromthefuryoflightning.
Fightingtears,Ipushup,fingersdiggingintothedirt.Afewyardsaway,Caldoesthesame.Hishairiswildwithstaticenergy.Weârebothwounded,both too proud to stop. We stagger to our feet like old men, swaying on
uneasylimbs.Withouthisbracelets,hecallstothegrassburningontheedgeof the circle, forming flame from embers. It rockets atme asmy lightningburstsagain.
Bothcollideâwitha tinglingbluewall. Ithisses,absorbing theforceofbothstrikes.Thenitdisappearslikeawindowwipedclean.
âPerhaps next time you two should spar in the range field,â Davidsoncalls.Todaythepremierlookslikeeveryoneelseinhisplaingreenuniform,standingontheedgeofthecircle.Atleast,itwasacircle.Nowthedirtandgrassareacharredmess,completelytornup,abattlegroundrippedapartbyourabilities.
Hissing,Isitbackdown,quietlygratefulfortheend.Evenbreathinghurtsmyback.Ihavetoleanforwardonmyknees,clenchingmyfistsagainstthepain.
Cal takes a step towardme, then collapses aswell, falling back on hiselbows. He pants heavily, chest rising and falling with exertion. Not evenenoughstrengthtoofferasmile.Sweatcoatshimfromheadtotoe.
âWithout an audience, if possible,â Davidson adds. Behind him, as thesmokeclears,anotherbluewallofsomethingdividesthespectatorsfromourspar.WithawaveofDavidsonâshand,itblinksoutofexistence.Hegivesatight, bland smile and indicates the symbol on his arm, his designation. Awhitehexagon.âShield.Quiteuseful.â
âIâll say,â Kilorn barks, charging toward me. He crouches at my side.âReese,âheaddsoverhisshoulder.
But the red-haired skin healer stops a few yards away. He holds hisground.âYouknowthatâsnothowitworks.â
âReese, stop it!â Kilorn hisses. He clenches his teeth in exasperation.âSheâsburnedalldownthebackandhecanbarelywalk.â
Calblinks atme, still panting.His facepulls in concernand regret, butalsopain.Iâminagonyandsoishe.Theprincedoeshisbesttolookstrongandtriestositup.Hejusthisses,immediatelyfallingbackdown.
Reeseholdsfirm.âSparringhasconsequences.WeârenotSilver.Weneedtoknowwhatourabilitiesdotoeachother.âThewordssoundrehearsed.IfIwerenâtinsomuchpain,Iwouldagree.IrememberthearenaswhereSilversbattledforsport,withoutfear.IremembermyTrainingattheHalloftheSun.A skin healer was always waiting, ready to patch up every scrape. Silversdonâtcareabouthurtinganotherpersonbecausetheeffectsdonâtlast.Reese
looks us both over and all but wags a scolding finger. âItâs not life-threatening.Theyspendtwenty-fourhoursthisway.Thatâsprotocol,Warren.â
âNormally,Iwouldagree,âDavidsonsays.Withsurefooting,hecrossesto thehealerâs sideand fixeshimwithanemptystare.âButunfortunately Ineedthesetwosharp,andIneeditnow.Getitdone.â
âSirââ
âGetitdone.â
The dirt squeezes throughmy fingers, the smallest relief as I clawmyhandsintheground.Ifitmeansendingthistorture,Iâlllistentowhateverthepremierwants,andIâlldoitwithasmile.
Mycoveralluniformisitchyanditsmellslikedisinfectingchemicals.Iwouldcomplain,butIdonâthavethebraincapacity.NotafterDavidsonâsoperativesâlatestbriefing.Eventhepremierlooksshaky,pacingbackandforthinfrontofthelongtableofmilitaryadvisers,includingCalandme.Davidsonballshisfistbeneathhischinandstaresatthefloorwithhisunreadableeyes.
Farley watches him for a long moment before glancing down to readAdaâs meticulous handwriting. The newblood woman with perfectintelligence is an officer now, working closely with Farley and the ScarletGuard. Iwouldnâtbesurprised ifbabyClaraweremadeanofficer too.Shedozesagainsthermotherâschest,wrappedtightlyinaclothsling.Acrownofdarkbrownfuzzspotsoverherhead.ShereallydoeslookslikeShade.
âFive thousand Red soldiers of the Scarlet Guard and five hundrednewbloodsofMontfort currentlyhold theCorviumgarrison,âFarley recitesfromAdaâs notes. âReports putMavenâs forces in the thousands, all Silver.MassingatFortPatriotinHarborBay,andoutsideDetraonintheLakelands.Wedonâthaveexactnumbers,oranabilitycount.â
Myhandstrembleontheflatofthetable,andIquicklyshovethemundermylegs.Inmyhead,ItickoffwhocouldpossiblybeaidingMavenâsattemptto retake the fortresscity.Samos isgone;Laris, Iral,Haven too.Lerolan, ifCalâsgrandmothercanbebelieved.Asmuchas Iwant todisappear, I forcemyselftospeak.âHehasstrongsupportinRhambosandWelle.Strongarms,greenwardens. Arvens too. Theyâll be able to neutralize any newbloodattack.âIdonâtexplainfurther.IknowwhatArvenscandofirsthand.âIdonâtknowtheLakelanders,beyondthenymphroyals.â
TheColonel leans forward, bracing his palms on the table. âI do.Theyfighthard,andtheyendure.Andtheirloyaltytotheirkingisunyielding.Ifhe
throwshissupporttothewretchââHestopshimselfandglancessidelongatCal, who doesnât react. âTo Maven, they wonât hesitate to follow. Theirnymphs are deadliest of course, followed by storms, shivers, andwindweavers.Stoneskinberserkersareanastybunchtoo.â
Iflinchashenameseachone.
DavidsonspinsonhisheeltofaceTahirinhisseat.Thenewbloodlooksincomplete without his twin, and leans oddly, as if to compensate for hisabsence. âAny update on the time frame?â the premier barks. âWithin theweekisnâtnarrowenough.â
Squinting his eyes, Tahir focuses elsewhere, far beyond the room. Towhereverhistwinmightbe.Likemanyoftheoperationshere,Rashâslocationis classified, but I can guess. Salida was once embedded in Mavenâsnewbloodarmy.Rashisaperfectreplacementforher,probablyworkingasaRed servant somewhere in the court. Itâs quite brilliant. Using his link toTahir,hecanferryinformationasquicklyasanyradioorcommunicationlink,withoutanyoftheevidenceorpossibilityofinterception.
âStillconfirming,âhesaysslowly.âWhispersofâŠâThenewbloodstills,andhismouthdrops intoanOofsurprise.âWithin theday.Anattackfrombothsidesoftheborder.â
Ibitemylip,drawingblood.Howcouldthishappensoquickly?Withoutwarning?
Cal shares my sentiment. âI thought you were keeping watch on troopmovements.Armiesdonâtmassovernight.âAlowcurrentofheatripplesfromhim,bakingalongmyrightside.
âWeknowthebulkof theforce is in theLakelands.Mavenâsnewbrideandherallianceputus inabitof abind,âFarleyexplains. âWedonâthavenearlyenoughresourcesthere,nowthatmostoftheGuardishere.Wecanâtmonitorthreeseparatecountriesââ
âButyouâresureitâsCorvium?Youâreabsolutelysure?âCalsnaps.
Adanodswithouthesitation.âAllintelligencepointstoyes.â
âMavenlikestraps.âIhatesayinghisname.âItcouldbeaploytodrawusoutinforce,catchusintransit.âIrememberthescreamofourjettornapartmidflight,sheeringintojaggededgesagainstthestars.âOrafeint.WegotoCorvium.HehitstheLowcountry.Takesourfoundationoutfromunderus.â
âWhichiswhywewait.âDavidsonclenchesafist inresolve.âLetthem
move first sowe canmake our counter. If they hold, weâll know it was atrick.â
TheColonel flushes,skinredashiseye.âAnd if itâsanoffensive,plainandsimple?â
âWeâllmovequicklyonceintentionsareknownââ
âAndhowmanyofmysoldiersdiewhileyoumovequickly?â
âAsmanyasmine,âDavidsonsneers.âDonâtactlikeyourpeoplearetheonlyoneswhowillbleedforthis.â
âMypeopleâŠ?â
âEnough!â Farley shouts them both down, loud enough to wake Clara.TheinfantisbettertemperedthananyoneIknow,andjustblinkssleepilyattheinterruptionofhernap.âIfwecanâtgetmoreintelligence,thenwaitingisouronlyoption.Weâvemadeenoughmistakescharginginheadfirst.â
Toomanytimestocount.
âItâsasacrifice,Iadmit.âThepremierlooksassoberashisgenerals,allstoicandstone-facedatthenews.Iftherewereanotherway,hewouldtakeit.Butnoneofusseeone.NotevenCal,whoremainssilent.âButasacrificeofinches.Inchesformiles.â
The Colonel sputters in anger, slamming a fist on the council table. Aglasspitcherfullofwaterwobbles,andDavidsoncalmlyrightsitwithquick,evenreflexes.
âCalore,Iâllneedyoutocoordinate.â
With his grandmother. With Silvers. People who stared at me and mychains and did nothing until it was convenient. People who still think myfamilyshouldbetheirslaves.Ibitemytongue.Peopleweneedtowin.
Caldipshishead.âTheKingdomof theRifthaspledgedsupport.WeâllhaveSamossoldiers,Iral,Laris,andLerolan.â
âThe Kingdom of the Rift,â I say under my breath, almost spitting.Evangelinegothercrownafterall.
âWhataboutyou,Barrow?â
I lookup toseeDavidsonstaring,stillwith thatblankexpression.He isimpossibletoread.
âDowehaveyouaswell?â
Myfamilyflickersbeforemyeyes,butonlyforamoment.Ishouldfeelashamedthatmyownanger,therageIkeepburninginthepitofmystomachandthecornersofmybrain,outweighsthemall.MomandDadwillkillmefor leaving again.But Iâmwilling to join awar to find some semblanceofpeace.
âYes.â
TWENTY-SEVENMare
Itisnotatrapanditisnotatrick.
Gisashakesmeawakesometimeaftermidnight,herbrowneyeswideandworried.Itoldmyfamilywhatwasgoingtohappenoverdinner.Asexpected,they werenât exactly happy about my decision. Mom twisted the knife asmuchasshecould.SheweptoverShade,stillafreshwound,andmycapture.ToldmehowselfishIwas.Takingmyselffromthemagain.
Later,her reproaches turned intoapologiesandwhispersofhowbraveIam.Toobraveandstubbornandpreciousforhertoletmego.
Dadjustshutdown,hisknuckleswhiteonhiscane.Weâre thesame,heandI.Wemakechoicesandfollowthrough,evenifthechoiceiswrong.
AtleastBreeandTramyunderstood.Theywerenâtcalledforthismission.Thatâscomfortenough.
âCalisdownstairs,âGisawhispers,herkeenhandsonmyshoulders.âYouhavetogo.â
As I sit up, already dressed in my uniform, I pull her into one lastembrace.
âYoudo this toomuch,âshemutters, trying tosoundplayfularoundthechokingsobsinherthroat.âComebackthistime.â
Inod,butIdonâtpromise.
Kilornmeetsus in thehall,bleary-eyedinhispajamas.Heisnâtcomingeither.Corvium is far past his limits.Another bitter comfort.Asmuch as Iusedtocomplainaboutdragginghimalong,worryingaboutthefishboygoodatknotsandnothingelse,Iâllmisshimdearly.Especiallybecausenoneofthatistrue.HeprotectedandhelpedmemorethanIeverdidhim.
Iopenmymouthtosayallthis,butheshutsmeupwithaquickkissonthecheek.âYoueventrytosaygood-byeandIâllthrowyoudownthestairs.â
âFine,â I forceout.Mychest tightens, though,and itbecomesharder tobreathewitheverystepdowntothefirstfloor.
Everyonewaits in congregation, looking grim as a firing squad.Momâseyesareredandpuffy,asareBreeâs.Hehugsmefirst,liftingmecleanoffthefloor.Thegiantletslooseonesobintothecrookofmyneck.Tramyismorereserved. Farley is in the hallway too. She holds Clara tightly, rocking herbackandforth.Momisgoingtotakeher,ofcourse.
Everything blurs, as much as I want to hold on to every inch of thismoment. Time passes far too quickly. My head spins, and before I knowwhatâshappening,Iâmoutthedoor,downthesteps,andtuckedsafelyintoatransport.DidDadshakeCalâshandordidIimaginethat?AmIstillasleep?AmIdreaming?Thelightsofthebasestreamthroughthedarklikeshootingstars. The headlights cut the shadows, illuminating the road to the airfield.AlreadyIheartheroarofenginesandthescreamofjetstakingtotheskies.
Mostaredropjets,designedtotransportlargenumbersoftroopsatspeed.They land vertically, without runways, and can be piloted directly intoCorvium.Iâmseizedbyaterriblesenseoffamiliarityasweboardours.ThelasttimeIdidthis,Ispentsixmonthsasaprisoner,andcamebackaghost.
Calsensesmyunease.Hetakesoverbucklingmeintomyjetseat,fingersmoving swiftly as I stare at the metal grating beneath my feet. âIt wonâthappen again,â hemurmurs, low enough so only I can hear. âThis time isdifferent.â
I takehis face inmyhands,makinghimstopand lookatme. âSowhydoesitfeelthesame?â
Bronzeeyessearchmine.Searchingforananswer.Hefindsnone.Instead,hekissesme,asifthatcansolveanything.Hislipsburnagainstmyown.Itlastslongerthanitshould,especiallywithsomanypeoplearound,butnoonemakesafuss.
Whenhepullsback,hepushessomethingintomyhand.
âDonâtforgetwhoyouare,âhewhispers.
Idonâtneedtolooktoknowitâsanearring,atinybitofcoloredstonesetinmetal.Somethingtosayfarewell,tosaystaysafe,tosayremembermeifweareparted.Another traditionfrommyold life. Ikeep it tight inmyfist,almostlettingthesharpstingpiercemyskin.OnlywhenhesitsdownacrossfrommedoIlook.
Red.Ofcourse.Redasblood,redasfire.Redastheangereatingusbothalive.
Unable to punch it throughmy ear right now, I tuck it away, careful to
keepthetinystonesafe.Itwilljointheotherssoon.
Farleymoveswithavengeance,takingherseatneartheMontfortpilots.Cameronfollowsclosely,offeringatightsmileasshesitsdown.Shefinallyhasanofficialgreenuniform,asdoesFarley,thoughFarleyâsisdifferent.Notgreen,butdark red,withawhiteC onher arm.Command.She shavedherheadagain inpreparation, shedding inchesofblondhair in favorofheroldstyle.Shelookssevere,withher twistingfacialscarandblueeyes topierceanyarmor.Itsuits.IunderstandwhyShadelovedher.
Shehasareasontostopfighting,morethananyofus.Butshekeepson.Abitofherdeterminationfloodsintome.Ifshecandothis,socanI.
Davidsonboardsourjetlast,roundingoutthefortyofusaboardthedrop.Hefollowsatroopofgravitronsmarkedbydownwardlinesofinsignia.Heâsstill wearing the same battered uniform, and his normally smooth hair isunkempt.Idoubtheslept.Itmakesmelikehimabitmore.
He nods at us as he passes, stomping the length of the jet to sit withFarley.Theyducktheirheadstogetherinthoughtalmostimmediately.
Myelectrical sense has improved sincemyworkwith the electricons. Icanfeelthejetdowntoitswiring.Everyspark,everypulse.Ella,Rafe,andTytonarecomingofcourse,butnoonedaresputusallonasingledropjet.Iftheworstshouldhappen,atleastwewonâtalldietogether.
Cal fidgets in his seat. Nervous energy. I do the opposite. I try to feelnumb,toignorethehungryfurybeggingtobeset loose.IstillhavenâtseenMavensincemyescape,andI imaginehisfaceas itwas then.Shoutingformethroughthecrowd,tryingtoturnaround.Hedidnâtwanttoletmego.Andwhen I wrap my hands around his throat, I wonât let him go. I wonât bescared.Onlyabattlestandsinmyway.
âMygrandmotherisbringingasmanywithherasshecan,âCalmutters.âDavidsonalreadyknows,butIdonâtthinkanyonefilledyouin.â
âOh.â
âShehasLerolan,theotherrebellinghouses.Samostoo.â
âPrincessEvangeline,â Imutter, still laughingat the thought.Cal sneerswithme.
âAtleastnowshehasherowncrown,anddoesnâthavetostealherwaytosomeoneelseâs,âhesays.
âYou two wouldâve been married by now. IfâŠâ If, meaning somany
things.
He nods. âMarried long enough to go absolutely crazy. Sheâd make agoodqueen,butnot forme.âHe takesmyhandwithout looking. âAndshewouldbeaterriblewife.â
Idonâthavetheenergytofollowthatthreadofimplication,butaburstofwarmthbloomsinmychest.
The jet lurches, spooling into high gear. Rotors and engines whir,drowningoutallconversation.Withanotherlurchweâreairborne,risingintothehotsummernight. I shutmyeyes foramomentand imaginewhat is tocome. I know Corvium from pictures and broadcasts. Black granite walls,goldandironreinforcements.AspiralingfortressthatusedtobethelaststopforanysoldierheadingintotheChoke.Inanotherlife,Iwouldhavepassedthrough. And now itâs under siege for the second time this year. Mavenâsforces set out a few hours ago, landing at their controlled strip in Rocastabeforeheadingoverland.Theyshouldbeatthewallssoon.Beforeus.
Inchesformiles,Davidsonsaid.
Ihopeheâsright.
Camerontosseshercardsintomylap.Fourqueenssmolderupatme,allofthemteasing.âFourladies,Barrow,âshesnickers.âWhatnext?Goingtobetyourbleedingboots?â
Igrinandswipethecardsintomypile,discardingmyuselesshandofrednumbersanda singleblackprince. âTheywouldnât fityou,â I answer. âMyfeetarenâtcanoes.â
She cackles loudly, tossing her head back as she kicks her toes out.Indeed, her feet are very long and thin. I hope, for the sake of resources,Cameron is all donegrowing. âAnother round,â shegoads, andholds out ahandforthecards.âIbetaweekoflaundry.â
Acrossfromus,Calstopshispreparatorystretchingtosnort.âYouthinkMaredoeslaundry?â
âDoyou,YourHighness?âIsnapback,grinning.Hejustpretendsnottohearme.
Theeasybanterisbothabalmandadistraction.Idonâthavetodwellonthebattlefacingus if IâmbeingrobbedblindbyCameronâscardskills.Shelearnedinthefactories,ofcourse.Ibarelyevenunderstandhowtoplaythisgame,butithelpsmestayfocusedinthemoment.
Beneath us, the dropjet sways, bouncing on a bubble of air turbulence.Aftermanyhoursinflight,itdoesnâtfazeme,andIcontinueshufflingcards.Thesecondbumpisdeeper,butnocauseforalarm.Thethirdsendsthecardsflyingoutofmyhands,fanningoutinmidair.Islambackagainstmyseatandfumbleformyharness.CamerondoesthesamewhileCalsnapshimselfback,hiseyesflashingtothecockpit.Ifollowhisgazetoseebothpilotsworkingfuriouslytokeepthejetlevel.
More concerning is the view. It should be sunrise by now, but the skyaheadofusisblack.
âStorms,âCal breathes,meaning both theweather and the Silvers. âWehavetoclimb.â
The words barely leave his lips before I feel the jet tip beneath me,anglingupwardtohigheraltitudes.Lightningflashesdeepwithintheclouds.Reallightning,bornofthethunderheadsandnotanewbloodâsability.Ifeelitthumpinglikeafarawayheart.
Itightenmygriponthestrapscrossingovermychest.âWecanâtlandinthat.â
âWecanâtlandatall,âCalsnarls.
âMaybeIcandosomething,stopthelightningââ
âIt wonât just be lightning down there!â Even over the roar of theclimbing plane, his voice rumbles. More than a few heads turn in hisdirection.Davidsonâsisoneofthem.âWindweaversandstormsaregoingtoblowusoffcourse thesecondwedrop throughtheclouds.Theyâllmakeuscrash.â
Calâseyesflutterupanddownjet,takingstockofus.Thewheelsturninhis head, working on overdrive.My fear gives way to faith. âWhatâs yourplan?â
Thejetbucksagain,bouncingusallinourseats.ItdoesnâtfazeCal.
âIneedgravitrons,andIneedyou,âheadds,pointingatCameron.
Hergazeturnssteely.Shenods.âIthinkIknowwhereyouâregoingwiththis.â
âRadiotheotherjets.Weâregoingtoneedateleporterinhere,andIneedtoknowwheretherestofthegravitronsare.Theyhavetodistribute.â
Davidsonduckshischininasharpnod.âYouheardhim.â
My stomach swoops at the implication as the jet bursts into activity.Soldiersdouble-checktheirweaponsandzipintotacticalgear,theirfacesfullofdetermination.Calmostofall.
He forceshimselfoutofhis seat, clutching the supports tokeep steady.âGetusdirectlyoverCorvium.Whereâsthatteleporter?â
Arezzoblinksintoexistence,droppingtoakneetostophermomentum.âIdonotenjoythat,âshespits.
âUnfortunatelyyouandtheotherâportersaregoingtobedoingitalot,âCalreplies.âCanyouhandlejumpingbetweenthejets?â
âOfcourse,âshesays,likeitâsthemostobviousthingintheworld.
âGood.Onceweâredown,takeCamerontothenextjetinline.â
Down.
âCal,âIalmostwhimper.Icandoalotofthings,butthis?
Arezzocracksherknuckles,speakingoverme.âAffirmative.â
âGravitrons,useyourcables.Sixtoabody.Keepittight.â
Thenewbloodsinquestionspringtotheirfeet,pullingwoundcordsfromspecial slots on their tactical vests. Each one has amess of clips, allowingthem to transport multiple people with their ability to manipulate gravity.BackattheNotch,IrecruitedamannamedGareth.Heusedhisabilitytoflyorjumpgreatdistances.
Butnottojumpoutofjets.
SuddenlyIfeelverysick,andsweatbreaksoutonmyforehead.
âCal?âIsayagain,myvoiceclimbinghigher.
He ignores me. âCam, your job is to protect the jet. Put out as muchsilenceasyoucanâpictureasphere;itâllhelpkeepuslevelinthestorm.â
âCal?âIyelp.AmItheonlyonethinkingthisissuicide?AmItheonlysanepersonhere?EvenFarleyseemsnonplussed,herlipspursedintoagrimlineasshecablesherselftooneofthesixgravitrons.Shefeelsmyeyesandlooksup.Herfaceflickersforaninstant,reflectingoneounceoftheterrorIfeel.Thenshewinks.ForShade,shemouths.
Calforcesmeup,eitherignoringmyfearornotnoticingit.Hepersonallystrapsmetothetallestgravitron,alankywoman.Hecablesinnexttome,onearmheavy acrossmy shoulderswhile the rest ofme is crushed against the
newblood.Alldownthe jet, theothersdo thesame,flanking theirgravitronlifelines.
âPilot,whatâsourposition?âCalshoutsovermyhead.
âFivesecondstocenter,âcomesarespondingbark.
âPlanallpassedon?â
âAffirmative,sir!Center,sir!â
Calgritshisteeth.âArezzo?â
Shesalutes.âReady,sir.â
ThereâsaverygoodchanceIwillthrowupalloverthepoorgravitroninthemiddleofthishoneycombofpeople.âEasy,âCalbreathesinmyear.âJustholdon;youâllbefine.Closeyoureyes.â
Idefinitelywantto.Ifidgetnow,tappingmylegs,shuddering.Allnerves,allmovement.
âThisisnâtcrazy,âCalwhispers.âPeopledothis.Soldierstraintodostufflikethis.â
Itightenmygriponhim,enoughtomakeithurt.âHaveyou?â
Hejustgulps.
âCam,youcanstart.Pilot,begindrop.â
Thewaveofsilencehitsmelikeasledgehammer.Itisnâtenoughtohurt,but thememoryof itmakesmykneesbuckle. I gritmy teeth tokeep fromscreaming and squeeze my eyes shut so tightly I see stars. Calâs naturalwarmthactsasananchor,butashakyone.Itightenmygriparoundhisback,as if Icanburymyself insidehim.Hemurmurs tomebut Icanâthearhim.Notpastthefeelofslow,smotheringdarknessandanevenworsedeath.Myheartbeat triples, ramming inmychestuntil I think itmight explodeoutofme. I canât believe it, but I actually want to jump out of the plane now.Anything to get away from Cameronâs silence. Anything to stopremembering.
Ibarelyfeeltheplanedroporrockagainstthestorm.Cameronexhalesinsteadypuffs, tryingtokeepherbreathingeven.If therestof theplanefeelsthepainofherability,theydonâtshowit.Wedescendinquiet.Ormaybemybodyissimplyrefusingtohearanymore.
Whenwe shuffle backward, crowding onto the drop platform, I realizethis is it. The jet rumbles, buffeted bywinds Cameron cannot deflect. She
shoutssomethingIcanâtdecipheroverthepoundofbloodinmyears.
Thentheworldopensbeneathme.Andwefall.
AtleastwhenHouseSamosrippedmylastjetoutofthesky,theyhadthedecency to leave us in a cage ofmetal.Wehave nothing but thewind andfreezing rain and swirling darkness pulling us every which way. Ourmomentummustbeenough tokeepuson target,aswellas the fact thatnosanepersonwouldexpectustobeleapingoutofplanesafewthousandfeetintheair in themiddleofa storm.Thewindwhistles likeawomanâs scream,clawing at every inch ofme.At least the pressure of Cameronâs silence isgone.Theveinsof lightning in thecloudscall tome,as ifsayinggood-byebeforeIâmturnedintoacrater.
Everyoneyellsonthewaydown.EvenCal.
Iâmstillyellingwhenwestartslowingabout fifty feetabove the jaggedtipsofCorvium,spiralingoutinahexagonofbuildingsandinnerwalls.AndIâmhoarsewhenwebumpgently against the smoothlypavedground, slickwithatleasttwoinchesofrainwater.
Ournewbloodhastilyunclipsusall,andIfallbackward,notcaringaboutthebitterlycoldpuddleIâmlyingin.Caljumpstohisfeet.
I lie there fora second, thinkingofnothing. Just staringupat the sky Iplummeted throughâand somehow survived. Then Cal grabs my arm andhoistsmeup,literallypullingmebacktoreality.
âTherestaregoingtobelandinghere,sowehavetomove.âHeshovesmeaheadofhim,andIstumbleabitthroughthesloshingwater.âGravitrons,Arezzowill come downwith the next batch to teleport you back up. Staysharp.â
âYes, sir,â they echo, bracing themselves for another round. Iâm almostsickatthethought.
Farleyactually is sick.Sheheavesupherguts inanalleyway,dumpingwhatever her quick breakfastwas. I forgot she hates flying, not tomentionteleporting.Thedropwastheworstofboth.
Imakeforher,loopingmyarmtohelpherstandupstraight.âYouokay?â
âFine,âshereplies.âJustgivingthewallafreshcoatofpaint.â
Iglanceatthesky,stilllashinguswithcoldrain.Oddlycoldforthistimeofyear,eveninthenorth.âLetâsgetmoving.Theyarenâtonthewallsyet,buttheywillbe.â
Calsteamsslightlyandzipsuptheneckofhisvesttokeepthewaterout.âShivers,âhecalls.âIhaveafeelingweâreabouttobesnowedin.â
âShouldwegotothegates?â
âNo.TheyârewardedwithSilentStone.Silvers canâtpummel theirwayin.Theyhave togoover.âHegestures forusand the restofourdropjet tofollow him. âWe have to be on the ramparts, ready to push backwhateverthey throw.The storm is just the vanguard.Block us in, reduce our vision.Keepusblinduntiltheyâreontopofus.â
Hispace ishard tomatch,especially through therain,but I forge tohisside anyway.Water soaks throughmy boots, and it isnât long before I losesensationinmytoes.Calstaresahead,asifhiseyesalonecansettheentireworldonfire.Ithinkhewantsto.Thatwouldmakethiseasier.
Onceagainhemustfightâandprobablykillâthepeoplehewasraisedtoprotect.I takehishand,becausetherearenowordsIcansayrightnow.Hesqueezesmyfingers,butletsthemgojustasquickly.
âYourgrandmotherâstroopscanâtgetinthesameway.âAsIspeak,moregravitronsandsoldiersplummetoutofthesky.Allscreaming,allsafewhentheytouchdown.Weturnacorner,movingfromoneringofwallstothenext,leavingthembehind.âHowdowejoinourforces?â
âTheyâre coming from the Rift. Thatâs southwest. Ideally, weâll keepMavenâs force occupied long enough for them to take the rear. Pin thembetweenus.â
Igulp.Somuchof theplan relieson theworkofSilvers. Iknowbetterthantotrustsuchthings.HouseSamoscouldsimplynotarriveandletusallbecapturedorkilled.ThentheywouldbefreetochallengeMavenoutright.Cal isnâtstupid.Heknowsall this.AndheknowsCorviumanditsgarrisonaretoovaluabletolose.Thisisourflag,ourrebellion,ourpromise.WestandagainstthemightofMavenCalore,andhistwistedthrone.
Newbloods man the ramparts, joined by Red soldiers with arms andammunition.Theydonâtfire,onlystareoutintothedistance.Oneofthem,atallstringbeanofamanwithauniformlikeFarleyâsandaConhisshoulder,stepsforward.Heclaspsarmswithherfirst,noddinghishead.
âGeneralFarley,âhesays.
Shedipsherchin.âGeneralTownsend.âThenshenodstoanotherrankingofficer in green, probably the commander of theMontfort newbloods. Theshort, squatwomanwithbronze skin anda long,whitebraid coiled around
herheadreturnstheaction.âGeneralAkkadi.â
âWhatarewelookingat?âFarleyasksthemboth.
Anothersoldierapproachesinredinsteadofgreen.Herhair isdifferent,dyedscarlet,butIrecognizeher.
âGood to see you, Lory,â Farley says, all business. I would greet thenewbloodtooifwehadthetime.IâmquietlyhappytoseeanotheroneoftheNotchrecruitsnotjustalivebutthriving.LikeFarley,herredhairiscloselycut.Lorybelongstothecause.
She nods at us all before throwing an arm out over the metal-edgedramparts. Her ability is extremely heightened senses, allowing her to seemuchfartherthanwecan.âTheirforceistothewest,withtheirbackstotheChoke.Theyhavestormsandshiversjustinsidethefirstringofcloudcover,outofyoursight.â
Cal leans forward, squinting at the thick black clouds and pelting rain.Theymake it impossibleforhimtoseefarther thanaquartermilefromthewalls.âDoyouhavesnipers?â
âWetried,âGeneralTownsendsighs.
Akkadiconcurs.âWasteofammunition.Thewindjusteatsthebullet.â
âWindweaverstoo,then.âCalsetshisjaw.âTheyhavetheaimforthat.â
Themeaning is clear.Thewindweavers ofNorta,HouseLaris, rebelledagainstMaven. So this force is Lakelander.Another personmightmiss thetwitchofasmileorthereleaseoftensioninCalâsshoulders,butIdonât.AndIknowwhy.HewasraisedtofightLakelanders.Thisisanenemythatwonâtbreakhisheart.
âWeneedElla.Sheâsbestat storm lightning.â Ipointupat the loomingtowersoverlookingthissectionofwall.âIfwegetheruphigh,shecanturnthestormagainstthem.Notcontrolit,butuseittofuelherself.â
âGood,getitdone,âCalsayswithaclippedtone.Iâveseenhiminafight,inbattle,butneversomethinglikethis.Hebecomesanotherpersonentirely.Laser-focused,inhumanlyso,withoutevenaflickerofthegentle,tornprince.Whateverwarmthhehas left isan inferno,meant todestroy.Meant towin.âWhen the gravitrons finish the drops, put them here, evenly spaced. TheLakelanders are going to charge the walls. Letâs make it hard for them tomove.GeneralAkkadi,whoelsedoyouhaveonhand?â
âGoodmixofdefensiveandoffensive,âsheresponds.âEnoughbombers
to turn theChoke road intoaminefield.âWithaproudsmirk, she indicatesthenearbynewbloodswhohavewhatlooklikesunburstsontheirshoulders.Bombers. Better than oblivions, able to explode something or someone onsightinsteadofjusttouch.
âSoundslikeaplan,âCalsays.âYoukeepyournewbloodsready.Strikeatyourdiscretion.â
IfTownsendmindsbeingdictated to,andbyaSilverat that,hedoesnâtshowit.Liketherestofus,hefeelsthethrumofdeathintheair.Thereâsnoroom for politics now. âAndmy soldiers? Iâve got a thousandReds on thewalls.â
âKeepthemthere.Bulletsarejustasgoodasabilities,sometimesmoreso.Butconserveammunition.Targetonlythosewhoslipthroughthefirstwaveofdefenses.Theywantustooverexert,andweârenotgoingtodothat.âHeglancesatme.âArewe?â
Igrin,blinkingawaytherain.âNo,sir.â
Atfirst,IwonderiftheLakelandersareveryslowtomove,orverystupid.Ittakesthebetterpartofthehour,butbetweenCameron,thegravitrons,andtheteleporters,wemanage to get everyone intoCorvium from the thirty or sodropjets.About a thousand soldiers, all trained and deadly.Our advantage,Calsays,liesinuncertainty.Silversstilldonâtknowhowtofightpeoplelikeme. They donât know what weâre truly capable of. I think thatâs why Calmostly leavesAkkadi toherowndevices.Hedoesnâtknowher troopswellenoughtocommandthemproperly.ButRedsheknows.Itleavesabittertasteinmymouth,one I try to swallowaway. In the stretchof time, I trynot towonderhowmanyRedsthepersonIlovesacrificedforanemptywar.
The storm never changes. Always churning, dumping rain. If theyâretryingtofloodus,itâsgoingtotakealongtime.Mostofthewaterdrains,butsomeof the lower streets and alleys are six inches deep inmurkywater. ItmakesCaluneasy.Hekeepswipingoffhisfaceorpushingbackhishair,skinslightlysteaminginthecold.
Farleyhasnoshame.Sheproppedherjacketupoverherheadalongtimeago,andlookslikesomekindofmaroonghost.Idonât thinkshemovesfortwenty minutes, her head resting on folded arms as she stares out at thelandscape. Like the rest of us, shewaits for a strike thatmay come at anysecond. It setsmy teethonedge,and theconstant rageofadrenalinedrainsmealmostasbadlyasSilentStone.
IjumpwhenFarleyspeaks.
âLory,areyouthinkingwhatIâmthinking?â
Atanotherperch,Loryalsohasajacketoverherhead.Shedoesnâtturn,unabletowrenchhersensesaway.âIreallyhopenot.â
âWhat?â I ask, looking between them. The movement sends freshrainwater downmy shirt collar, and I shiver.Cal sees it happen andmovesclosertomyback,extendingsomeofhiswarmthtome.
Slowly, Farley turns, trying not to get drenched. âThe storm ismoving.Closingin.Afewfeeteveryminute,andgettingfaster.â
âShit,âCal breathes behindme. Then he springs into action, taking hiswarmthwithhim.âGravitrons,beready!WhenIsay,youtightenyourgriponthatfield.âTighten.Iâveneverseenagravitronusetheirabilitytostrengthengravity,onlyloosenit.âDropwhateverâscoming.â
As I watch, the storm picks up speed, enough to note at a glance. Itcontinues swirling, but spirals closer and closerwith every rotation, cloudsbleedingoveropenground.Lightningcracksdeepwithin,apale,emptycolor.Inarrowmyeyes,andforamoment,itflashespurple,veiningwithstrengthand rage. But I have nothing to aim at yet. Lightning, no matter howpowerful,isuselesswithoutatarget.
âTheforceismarchingbehindthestorm,closingthedistance,âLorycalls,confirmingourworstfears.âTheyârecoming.â
TWENTY-EIGHTMare
Thewindhowls.Itbuffets thewallsandramparts,blowingmorethanafewbackfromtheirposition.Rainfreezesonthestonework,makingourfootingprecarious.Thefirstcasualtyisafall.ARedsoldier,oneofTownsendâs.Thewindcatcheshisjacket,blowinghimbackwardalongtheslickwalkway.Heshoutsashegoesovertheedge,plungingthirtyfeetâbeforesailingskyward,bornofagravitronâsconcentration.Helandshardonthewall,collidingwithasickeningcrack.Thegravitrondidnâthaveenoughcontrol.Butthesoldierisalive.Injured,butalive.
âBrace yourself!â echoes down the lines of soldiers, passing betweengreenuniformsandred.Whenthewindroarsagain,webuckledown.Ituckmyself against the icy metal of a rampart, safe from the worst of it. Awindweaversâ strike is unpredictable, unlike normal weather. It splits andcurves,clawinglikefingers.Allwhilethestormtightensaroundus.
Cameronshovesinnexttome.Iglanceather,surprised.Sheâssupposedtobebackwith thehealers, to forma lastwallagainstanysiege. Ifanyonecan defend them from Silvers, give them the time and space to treat oursoldiers, itâsher.The rainmakesher shiver,her teethchattering.Sheseemssmaller, younger, in the cold and closing darkness. I wonder if sheâs eventurnedsixteenyet.
âAllright,lightninggirl?âshesayswithsomedifficulty.Waterdripsoverherface.
âAllright,âImurmurback.âWhatareyoudoinguphere?â
âWanted to see,â she says, lying. The young girl is here because shebelieves she has to be.Am I abandoning you? she asked before. I see thequestioninhereyesnow.Andmyansweristhesame.Ifshedoesnâtwanttobeakiller,sheshouldnâthavetobe.
I shakemyhead. âYouprotect thehealers,Cameron.Getback to them.Theyâredefenseless,andiftheygodownââ
Shebitesherlip.âWealldo.â
Westareateachother,tryingtobestrong,tryingtofindstrengthineach
other. Likeme, sheâs soaked through. Her dark lashes clump together, andevery time she blinks it looks like sheâs crying. The raindrops land hard,makingusbothsquintastheypeltdownourfaces.Untiltheydonât.Untiltheraindropsstartrollingintheoppositedirection,flowingup.Hereyeswidenasminedo,watchingwithhorror.
âNymphstrike!âIscreaminwarning.
Above us, the rain shimmers, dancing on the air, joining together intolargerandlargerdroplets.Andthepuddles,theinchesofwaterinthestreetsandalleysâtheybecomerivers.
âBrace!â echoes again. This time the blow is freezing water instead ofwind,foamingwhiteasitbreakslikeawave,curvingupandoverthewallsandbuildingsofCorvium.Aspraycatchesmehard,dashingmyheadagainsttherampart,andtheworldspins.Afewbodiesgooverthewall,spinningintothe storm. Their silhouettes disappear quickly, as do their screams. Thegravitronssaveafew,butnotall.
Cameronslidesaway,onhandsandknees, togetback to thestairs.Sheusesherabilitytomakeacocoonofsafetyasshesprintsbacktoherpostwellinsidethesecondwall.
Calskidsnexttome,almostlosinghisfooting.Inmydaze,Igrabathim,pullinghimclose.Ifhegoesoverthewall,IknowIâlljustgoafterhim.Hewatches,terrified,asthewaterassaultsourrankslikethewavesofachurningsea.Itmakeshimuseless.Flamehasnoplacehere.Hisfirecannotburn.Andmylightningisjustthesame.OnesparkandIâllshockwhoknowshowmanyofourowntroops.Icanâtriskit.
AkkadiandDavidsonhavenosuchrestriction.Whilethepremierthrowsupaglowingblueshieldattheedgeofthewall,protectinganyoneelsefromgoingover theedge,Akkadi roars tohernewblood troops,barkingorders Icanâthearoverthecrashingwaves.
The water spikes, shuddering. Suddenly at war with itself. We havenymphstoo.
But no storms. No newbloods who can seize control of the hurricanearoundus.Itsdarknessclosesin,soabsoluteitseemslikemidnight.Weâllbefightingblind.Andithasnâtevenstartedyet.IstillhavenâtseenasingleoneofMavenâssoldiers,ortheLakelanderarmy.Notoneredbannerorblue.Buttheyârecoming.Theyârecertainlycoming.
Igritmyteeth.âGetup.â
Theprinceisheavy,slowedbyhisfear.Puttingahandtohisneck,Igivehimthesmallestshock.ThegentlekindTytonshowedme.Herocketstohisfeet, alive and alert. âRight, thanks,â he mutters. With a glance, he takesstock.âThetemperatureâsdropping.â
âGenius,âIhissback.Everypartofmefeelsfrozen.
Above us, the water rages, splitting and re-forming. It wants to crashdown, itwants todissipate.Someof itpeelsoffandvaultsoverDavidsonâsshield,racingawayintothestormlikeastrangebird.Afteramoment,therestcrashesdown,drenchingusallanew.Acheergoesupanyway.Thenewbloodnymphs,whileoutnumberedandoffguard,justwontheirfirstbout.
Caldoesnâtjoininthecelebrations.Instead,herakeshiswriststogether,ignitinghishandsintoweakflame.Theysputterinthedownpour,fightingtoburn. Until, suddenly, the rain turns to bitter, blizzard snow. In the utterdarkness it winks red, gleaming in the weak lights of Corvium and Calâsflame.
Ifeelmyhairstarttofreezeonmyheadandshakemyponytail.Splintersoficegoflyingineverydirection.
Aroarrisesoutofthestorm,differentfromthewind.Withmanyvoices.A dozen, a hundred, a thousand. The blackout blizzard presses in. Briefly,Calâseyesfluttershut,andhesighsaloud.
âPrepareforattack,âhesayshoarsely.
ThefirsticebridgespikesthroughtheramparttwofeetawayfrommeandI vault back, yelping. Another splits the stone twenty feet away, spearingsoldierswith its jagged edges. Arezzo and the other teleporters spring intoaction, collecting the wounded to jump them back to our healers. Almostinstantly, Lakelander soldiers, their shadows like monsters, vault off thebridgesâtheyranuptheiceasitgrew.Readytostrike.
IâveseenSilverbattlesbefore.Theyarechaos.
Thisisworse.
Callungesforward,hisfiresjumpinghotandhigh.Theiceisthick,notsoeasilymelted,andhecarvespiecesfromthenearestbridgelikealumberjackwithachainsaw.Itmakeshimvulnerable.IslicethroughthefirstLakelandertogetnearhim,andmysparkssendthearmoredmanspinningintodarkness.Another quickly follows, until my skin crawls with purple-white veins ofhissing lightning. Gunfire drowns out whatever orders anyone might beshouting. I focus on myself, on Cal. Our survival. Farley stays close, gun
tuckedup.LikeCal,sheputsmetoherback,lettingmedefendherblindspot.She doesnât flinch as she fires her gun, pummeling the nearest bridgewithbullets.Shecentersontheice,notthewarriorsburstingoutoftheblizzard.Itcracksandsplintersbeneaththeberserkers,crumblingintodarkness.
Thunder rumbles, closer by the second. Bolts of blue-white electricityexplodethroughtheclouds,crashingdownaroundCorvium.Fromthetowers,Ellaâsaimisdeadly,strikingjustoutsidethewalls.Anicebridgefallstoherwrath,crackingintwoâbutitregrows,re-forminginmidairatthewillofashiverhidingsomewhere.Bombersdothesame,obliteratingglassyhunksoficewith bursts of explosive force. They just creep back, skittering throughanotherrampart.GreenlightningcracklessomewheretomyleftasRafearcshiswhipsintoastampedinghordeofLakelanders.Hisblowmeetsashieldofwater,whichabsorbsthecurrentastheyadvance.Waterdoesnâtstopbullets,though.Farleypeppersthemwithgunfire,droppingafewSilverswheretheystand.Theirbodiesslideoffintodarkness.
Iturnmyattentionstotheclosestbridgeofsoldiers.Insteadoftheice,Ifocus on the figures charging from the darkness.Their blue armor is thick,scaled,andwiththeirhelmetstheylookinhuman.Itmakesthemeasiertokill.Theyforceoneanother forward,pressingon to thewalls.Asnaking lineoffacelessmonsters.Purplelightningexplodesfrommyclawedhandsandracesthroughtheirhearts, jumpingfromonesuitofarmortotheother.Themetalsuperheats, fading from blue to red, and many fall off the bridge in theiragony.Morereplacethem,vaultingoutofthestorm.Itisakillingground,afunnel of death. Tears freeze on my cheeks as I lose count of how manyskeletonsIripthrough.
Thenthecitywallcracksbetweenmyfeet,onesideslidingfromtheother.A concussive blow shudders through my bones. Then another. The crackwidens. Quickly, I pick an edge, jumping to Calâs side before the crackswallowsmewhole.Rootswormupthroughthefissure,thickasmyarm,andgrowing.Theypryapartthestonelikemassivefingers,sendingspidercrackspastmyfeetlikeboltsofstonelightning.Thewallbucksunderthestrain.
Greenwardens.
âThewall is going to break,âCal breathes. âTheyâll crack it right openandgetbehindus.â
Iclenchafist.âUnless?âHejuststaresblankly,ataloss.âTherehastobesomethingwecando!â
âItâsthestorm.Ifwecangetridofthestorm,getvisibility,wecanuseour
rangeâŠ.âAshespeaks,hesetsfiretotheroots,nowcreepingcloser.Flameracesitslength,charringtheplant.Itjustgrowsback.âWeneedwindweavers.Blowthecloudsaway.â
âHouseLaris.Soweholduntiltheygethere?â
âHoldandhopetheyâreenough.â
âFine.As for thisâŠâ Inodat thegapwideningby the second.SoonaSilverarmywillburstrightthrough.âLetâsgivethemanexplosivewelcome.â
Calnods,understanding.âBombers!âheroarsoverthehowlingwindandsnow. âGet down there and be ready!â Pointing, he indicates the streetrunningjustinsidetheouterwall.ThefirstplaceLakelanderswilloverrunus.
Adozenorsobombershearhimandobey,peelingofftheirpoststomanthestreet.Myfeetmoveoftheirownaccord, intendingtofollow.Calgrabsmywrist and I almost skid. âI didnât say you,â he growls. âYou stay righthere.â
Quickly,Ipeelhisfingersaway.Thegripistootight,heavyasamanacle.Evenintheheatofbattle,Ifindmyselfthrownbackthroughtime,toapalacewhere Iwasaprisoner.âCal, Iâmgoing tohelp thebombershold. Icandothat.âHisbronzeeyesflicker in thedarkness, theredflamesof twoblazingcandles.âIftheybreachthewall,youâregoingtobesurrounded.Andthenthestormwillbetheleastofourworries.â
Hisdecisionisquickâandstupid.âFine,Iâllcome.â
âThey need you up here.â I put a palm to his chest, pushing him awayfromme.âFarley,Townsend,Akkadiâthesoldiersneedgeneralsontheline.Theyneedyouontheline.â
Ifnotforthebattle,Calwouldargue.Hejustgrazesmyhand.Thereâsnotimeforanything.EspeciallywhenIâmright.
âIâllbe fine,â I tellhimas I jumpaway,slidingover frozenstones.Thestormeatshisresponse.Ispareoneheartbeattoworryforhim,towonderifwemightneverseeeachotheragain.Thenextheartbeaterasesthethought.Ihavenotimeforit.Ihavetostayfocused.Ihavetostayalive.
Ipickupmy feetupand slidedown the stairs, the frozen rails slippingthrough my curled hands. On the street, out of the wind, the air is muchwarmerandthepuddlesaregone.EitherfrozenorthewaterwasusedabovetoassaultthedefendersoftheCorviumwall.
Bombers face thecrack in thewall, spreading fartherwitheach second.
Upontherampartsitwidenstoseveralfeet,butherethecrackisjustinchesâandgrowing.Anothershudderruns throughthestoneandbelowmyfeet,likeanexplosionoranearthquakeintheground.Iswallowhard,imaginingastrongarmontheothersideofthewall,herfistsrainingblowafterblowuponourfoundations.
âWait to strike,â I tell the bombers. They look to me for orders, eventhough Iâm not an officer. âNo explosions until itâs clear theyâre comingthrough.Wedonâtneedtohelpthemalong.â
âIâllshieldthebreachaslongaspossible,âavoicesaysbehindme.
Iwhirl toseeDavidson,his facestreaked ingraybloodsteadily turningblack.He looks pale beneath the blood, stunned by it. âPremier,â Imutter,dippingmyhead.Herespondsafteralongmoment.Dazedbythebattle.Sodifferentonthefieldthanitisinthewarroom.
Instead,Iturnmyelectricityonourattackers.Usingtherootsasamap,Irunlightningalongtheplantmatter,lettingitcurlandspiralwiththepathofthe root. Icanât see thegreenwardenat the far side,but I feelhim.Thoughdulledbythedenseroot,mysparksripplethroughhisbody.Adistantshriekechoes through the cracks in the stone, somehow audible over the chaosaboveandaround.
ThegreenwardenisnâttheonlySilverabletobringdownstone.Anothertakes his place, a strongarm judging by the way the stone shudders andcracks.Blowafterblowsendsrubbleanddustthroughthewideninggap.
Davidsonstandsonmyleft,mouthslightlyagape.Numb.
âFirstbattle?âImutterasanotherthunderousstrikehitshome.
âHardly,âhesays,tomysurprise.âIwasasoldieroncetoo.IâmtoldIwasonalistofyours?â
DaneDavidson.Thenamefluttersinmymind,abutterflybrushingwingsagainstthebarsofabonecage.Itcomesbackasifthroughmud,slowly,withgreateffort.âJulianâslist.â
Henods.âSmartman,Jacos.Connectingdotsnooneelseevensees.Yes,Iwasoneof theNortanReds tobeexecutedby their legion.Forcrimesofblood,notbody.WhenIescaped,theofficersmarkedmeasdeadanyway.Sotheydidnâthavetoexplainanotherlostcriminal.âHelickslipscrackedbythecold.âIfledtoMontfort,collectingotherslikemealongtheway.â
Anothercrack.Thegapbeforeuswidensasfeelingreturnstomytoes.I
wiggletheminmyboots,preparingtofight.âSoundsfamiliar.â
Davidsonâs voice gains strength and momentum as he speaks. As heremembers what we are fighting for. âMontfort was in ruin. A thousandSilvers claiming their own crowns, every mountain its own kingdom, thecountrysplinteredbeyondrecognition.OnlyRedsstoodunited.AndArdentswere in the shadows, waiting to be unleashed. Divide and conquer, MissBarrow.Itâstheonlywaytobeatthem.â
The Kingdom of Norta, the Kingdom of the Rift, Piedmont, theLakelands.Silversatoneanotherâsthroats,squabblingforsmallerandsmallerpieces while we wait to take the whole lot. Though Davidson looksoverwhelmed, I can almost smell the steel in his bones.A genius, perhaps,anddangerouscertainly.
Agust of snowbringsmeback.Theonly thing I need to be concernedwithiswhathappensnow.Survive.Win.
Blue-tingedenergyburststhroughthesplinteringwall,pulsingacrossthefoot-wideexpanseofemptiness.Davidsonholds the shield inplacewithanoutstretchedhand.Adropofblooddripsoffhischin,steaminginthecold.
Asilhouetteontheothersidepummelstheshield,fistsrainingknuckledhell down on the rippling field. Another strongarm joins the shadow andworkstowidenthegap,attackingstoneinstead.Theshieldgrowswiththeirefforts.
âBeready,âDavidsonsays.âWhenIsplittheshield,firewitheverything.â
Weobey,preparingtostrike.
âThree.â
Purple sparkswebbetweenmy fingersandweave intoapulsingballofdestructivelight.
âTwo.â
Thebomberskneel in formation, like snipers. Insteadof guns, they justhavetheirfingersandeyes.
âOne.â
Withatwitch,theblueshieldcutsintwoandslamsthepairofstrongarmsintothewallswithsickeningcracksofbone.Wefirethroughtheopening,mylightning a blaze. It illuminates the darkness beyond, showing a dozenberserkersoldiersreadytorushthebreach.Manydroptotheirknees,spittingfireandbloodasthebombersexplodetheirinsides.Beforeanycanrecover,
Davidsonsealstheshieldagain,catchingareturningvolleyofbullets.
Helookssurprisedbyoursuccess.
Onthewallaboveus,afireballchurnsintheblackstorm,atorchagainstthefalsenight.Calâsfirespreadsandstrikesinasnakeofflame.Theredheatturnstheskytoscarlethell.
IjustclenchafistandgestureatDavidson.
âAgain,âItellhim.
Itâsimpossibletomarkthepassageoftime.Withoutthesun,Ihavenoideahowlongwespendbattlingthebreach.Eventhoughwepushbacktheassaultagainandagain,everyattemptwidensthegapbitbybit.Inchesformiles, Itellmyself.Onthewall,thewaveofsoldiershasnotwontheramparts.Theicebridgeskeepcomingback,andwekeepfightingthem.Afewcorpseslandin the street, beyond even a healerâs touch. Between strikes, we drag thebodies into thealleyways,outofsight. Isearcheachdeadface,holdingmybreatheverytime.NotCal,notFarley.TheonlyoneIrecognizeisTownsend,hisnecksnappedclean.Iexpectawashofguiltorpity,butIfeelnothing.Justthe knowledge that strongarms are up on the walls as well, tearing oursoldiersapart.
Davidsonâsshieldstretchesacrossthegapinthewall,nowatleasttenfeetwide,yawningopenlikestonejaws.Bodieslieintheopenmouth.Smokingcorpsesfelledby lightning,orbrutallyrippedopenbyabomberâsmercilessstare. Through the quivering field of blue, shadows gather in the darkness,waiting to try our wall again. Hammers of water and ice batter againstDavidsonâsability.Abansheescreamreverberatesoff itsexpanse,andeventheechoispainfultoourears.Davidsonwinces.Nowthebloodonhisfacestreakswithsweatdrippingdownhisforehead,nose,andcheeks.Hesprintstowardhislimit,andwearerunningoutoftime.
âSomeonegetmeRafe!âIshout.âAndTyton.â
Arunnersprintsoffassoonasthewordsareoutofmymouth,vaultingupthe steps to find them. I watch the wall above, searching for a familiarsilhouette.
Calworksamanicrhythm,perfectasamachine.Step,turn,strike.Step,turn, strike. Like me, he finds an empty place where survival is the onlythought. At every break in the oncoming rush of enemies, he re-forms hissoldiers,directingtheRedsintheirfire,orworkingwithAkkadiandLorytoeliminateanothertargetinthedarkness.Howmanyaredead,Icanâtsay.
Anothercorpsetumblesfromtheramparts,endoverend.IgrabhisarmstodraghimoffbeforeIrealizehisarmorisnotarmoratall,butscaledpiecesofstonyflesh,smolderingwiththeheatofafireprinceâsanger.Idrawbacksurprised,asifburnedmyself.Astoneskin.Thefewclothesonhisdeadbodyareblueandgray.HouseMacanthos.Norta.OneofMavenâs.
Iswallowhardagainst the implication.Mavenâsforceshavereachedthewalls.WearenâtjustfightingLakelandersanymore.AroaroffuryrisesinmychestandIalmostwishIcouldstormthroughthebreachmyself.Tearthrougheverythingontheotherside.Hunthimdown.Killhimbetweenhisarmyandmine.
Thenthecorpsegrabsme.
He twists, andmywrist breakswith a snap. I shriek against the suddenbleedingpainracingupmyarm.
Lightningripplesfrommyflesh,escapingmelikeascream.Itcovershisbody inpurplesparksand lethal,dancing light.Buteitherhisstonyflesh istoo thick or his resolve is too strong. The stoneskin does not let go, hispincerlike fingers now clawing at my neck. Explosions blossom along hisback,theworkofbombers.Bitsofstonesloughoffhimlikedeadskinandhehowls.Hisgriponly tightenswith thepain. Imake themistakeof trying topryoffhishands,nowlockedaroundmythroat.Hisrockyfleshcutsmyskin,andbloodwellsupbetweenmyfingers,redandhotinthefrozenair.
Spotsdancebeforemyeyes,andIlooseanotherblastoflightning,lettingitpourfrommyagony.Theblowrocketshimoffmeandbackintoabuilding.Hecrashesthroughheadfirst,bodyhangingoutintothestreet.Thebombersfinishhimoff,explodingthroughtheexposedskinonhisback.
Davidsontremblesonhisfeet,stillholdingthethinningshield.Hesawitall,andcoulddonothingunlesshewantedtheinvadingforcetooverrunus.Acornerofhismouthquivers,asiftoapologizeformakingtherightdecision.
âHowmuch longer can you hold?â I ask, gasping out thewords. I spitbloodonthestreet.
Hegritshisteeth.âAlittlewhile.â
Thatâsnothelpful,Iwanttosnap.âAminute?Two?â
âOne,âheforcesout.
âOnewilldo.â
I glare through the shield as itweakens, the vivid shade of blue fading
withDavidsonâs strength. As it clears, so do the figures on the other side.Bluearmorandblackcutwithred.LakelandsandNorta.Nocrown,noking.Justshocktroopsmeanttooverwhelmus.MavenwonâtsetfootinCorviumunless thecity ishis.While theCalorebrotheron thewallwill fight to thedeath,Maven isnot foolishenough to riskhimself ina fight.Heknowshisstrengthisbehindthelines,onathroneratherthanabattlefield.
RafeandTytonapproachfromoppositesides,havingheldtheirstretchofwall.WhileRafelooksmeticulous,greenhairstillslickedbackfromhisface,Tyton is positivelypainted inblood.All silver.He isnâtwounded.His eyesglowwithastrangekindofanger,burningredinthechurningfirelightoverourheads.
InoteDarmianalongwithanumberofotherwreckers,allofthemgiftedwithinvulnerableflesh.Theycarrywickedaxes,theiredgesworkedtorazorsharpness. Good to combat strongarms. At close range, theyâre our bestchance.
âFormup,âTytonsays,taciturntoafault.
Wefollow,organizingintohastylinesatDavidsonâsback.Hisarmshakesaswemove,holdingonaslongashecan.Rafetakesmyleft,Tytonmyright.Iglancebetween them,wondering if I should say something. I can feel thestaticenergybloomingfromthemboth,familiarbutstrange.Theirelectricity,notmine.
In the storm, the blue thunder continues to rage. Ella fuels us, andweleechtoherlightning.
âThree,âDavidsonsays.
Greenonmyleft,whiteonmyright.Thecolorsflickerontheedgeofmyvision,eachsparkatinyheartbeat.
âTwo.â
Isuckinonemorebreath.Mythroataches,bruisedbythestoneskin.ButIâmstillbreathing.
âOne.â
Againtheshieldcollapses,openingourinsidestotheoncomingstorm.
âBREACH!âechoesalongtherampartsas theforces turn theirattentiononthegapinthewall.TheSilverarmyrespondsinkind,surgingtowarduswithadeafeningyell.Greenandpurplelightningshuddersthroughthekillingground, leaping along the first wave of soldiers. Tyton moves like a man
throwing darts, his minuscule needles of lightning exploding into blindingbolts that toss Silver troops into the air.Many seize and twitch.He has nomercy.
The bombers follow our lead, moving with us as we close the breach.They only need an open line of sight towork, and their destruction churnsstone,flesh,andearthinequalmeasure.Dirtfallswiththesnow,andtheairtastes like ash. Is thiswhatwar is? Is thiswhat it feels like to fight in theChoke? Tyton tosses me back, throwing out an arm to move my body.Darmianandtheotherwreckerssurgebeforeus,ahumanshield.Theiraxescutinandout,sprayingblooduntiltheruinedwallsoneithersidearecoatedinmirroredswathsofliquidsilver.
No.IremembertheChoke.Thetrenches.Thehorizonstretchedineverydirection, reaching down tomeet a land cratered by decades of bloodshed.Each side knew the other. That war was evil, but defined. This is just anightmare.
Soldieraftersoldier,LakelanderandNortan,pulsesintothebreach.Eachpushedby themanorwomanbehind.Ason thebridges, they funnel intoakillingground.Thecrowdmoveslikethepulloftheocean,onewavedrawingus back before the other goes forward. We have the advantage, but onlyslightly. More strongarms pummel at the walls, hoping to widen the gap.Telkieslobrubbleintoourline,pulverizingoneofthebombers,whileanotherfreezessolid,mouthfixedopeninasilentscream.
Tyton dances with fluid movements, each palm blazing with whitelightning. I use web on the ground, spreading a puddle of electric energybeneath the pounding feet of the advancing army. Their bodies pile up,threateningtoformanotherwallacrossthebreach.Butthetelkiesjustwavethemaway,sendingcorpsesspinningintotheblackstorm.
Itasteblood,butmybrokenwristisjustabuzzofpainnow.Ithangslimpat my side, and Iâm grateful for the adrenaline that wonât let me feel thesnappedbone.
Thestreetandearthturntoliquidbeneathmyfeet,runningwithredandsilver.Theswampygroundclaimsmorethanafew.Whenanewbloodfalls,anymph jumps on him, pouringwater downhis nose and throat.He drownsbefore my eyes. Another corpse lies on her side, roots curling from hereyeballs.All I know is lightning. I canât remembermy name,my purpose,whatIâmfightingforâbeyondtheairinmylungs.Beyondonemoresecondoflife.
A telky splits us apart, sending Rafe flying backward. Then me in theoppositedirection.Ispiralforward,overthetopoftheforcepushingthroughthewallbreach.Totheotherside.TothekillingfieldsofCorvium.
Ilandhard,rollingendoverenduntilIcometoanabruptstop,halfburiedin freezing mud. A bolt of pain spikes through my adrenaline shield,reminding me of a very broken bone and perhaps a few more. The stormwindstearatmyclothesasItrytositup,shardsoficescrapingatmyeyesandcheeks.Eventhoughthewindhowls,itisnâtsodarkouthere.Notblack,butgray.Ablizzardatduskratherthanmidnight.Isquintbackandforth,toowindedtodoanythingbutlieinpain.
What were open fields, green lawns sloping off either side of the IronRoad,arenowfrozentundra,eachbladeofgrasslikearazoroficicle.Fromthis angle, Corvium is impossible to make out. Just like we couldnât seethrough the pitch black of the storm, neither can the assaulting forces. Ithinders themasmuchasus.Severalbattalionscluster likeshadows,cuttingsilhouettesagainst thestorm.Someattempttheicebridgesstillformingandre-forming,butnowmostsurgetowardthebreach.Therestlieinwaitbehindme,asmudgeoutsidetheworstofthestorm.Maybehundredsheldinreserve,maybethousands.Blueandredflagssnapinthewind,justbrightenoughtomakeout.Caughtbetweenarockandahardplace,Isightomyself.AndIâmstuckinthemud,surroundedbycorpsesandthewalkingwounded.Atleastmostarefocusedonthemselves,onmissinglimbsorsplitbellies,ratherthanasingleRedgirlintheirmidst.
Lakelandersoldiersdartaroundme,andIbracemyselffortheworst.Buttheymarchon, stompingfor the thunderingcloudsand the restof thearmyslouching towarddestruction.âGet to thehealers!âoneof themshoutsovertheirshoulder,notevenlookingback.Ilookdown,realizingIâmcoveredinsilverblood.Somered,butmostlysilver.
Quickly,Irubmudovermybleedingwoundsandthebitsofmyuniformthatarestillgreen.Thecutssearwithpain,makingmehissthroughmyteeth.Ilookbackattheclouds,watchinglightningpulsewithin.Blueatthecrown,greenatthebase,wherethebreachis.WhereIhavetogetbackto.
Themudsucksatmy limbs, trying to freeze solidaroundme.Withmybrokenwristtuckedagainstmychest,Ipushoffwithonearm,fightingtobefree. I pull away with a loud pop and start sprinting, heaving breath afterbreath.Eachoneburns.
Imakeittenyards,almosttothebackoftheSilverarmy,beforeIrealize
thisisnâtgoingtowork.Theyârepackedtootightlytoslipthrough,evenforme. And theyâll probably stop me if I try. My face is well known, evencovered in mud. I canât chance it. Or the ice bridges. One might crumblebeneathme,ortheRedsoldiersmightshootmedeadasItrytogetbackoverthewall.Eachchoiceendsbadly.Butsodoesstandinghere.Mavenâsforceswill push another assault and send another wave of troops. I see no wayforward andnowayback.Forone terrifying, emptymoment, I stare at theblackness of Corvium. Lightning flickers within the storm, weaker thanbefore.Itseemsatoweringhurricanetoppedwithathunderhead,layeredwithablizzardandgale-forcewinds.Ifeelsmallagainstit,asinglestarinaskyofviolentconstellations.
Howcanwedefeatthis?
Thefirstscreamofajetsendsmetomyknees,coveringmyheadwithmygood hand. It ripples in my chest, a burst of electricity hammering like aheart.Adozenfollowatlowaltitude,theirenginesspiralingthesnowandashastheyscreambetweenthetwohalvesofthearmy.
More jets spiral on the outer edge of the storm, around and around,carving through it. The clouds drift with the jets, as if magnetized to thewings. Then I hear another roar. Another wind, stronger than the first,blowingwith thefuryofahundredhurricanes.Thewindworks toclear thestorm,tearingitapartwithforce.ThecloudspartenoughtoshowthetowersofCorvium,whereblue lightningreigns.Thewindfollowsthejets,poolingbeneaththeirfreshlypaintedwings.
Paintedbrightyellow.
HouseLaris.
Mylipstugintoasmile.Theyârehere.AnabelLerolankeptherword.
Ilookfortheotherhouses,butafalconscreamsaroundme,itsblue-blackwings beating the air. Talons gleam, sharp as a blade, and I jump back tocovermy face from thebird. It just screecheskeenlybefore flappingaway,glidingoverthebattlegroundtowardâohno.
Mavenâs reserves are coming. Battalions, legions. Black armor, bluearmor,redarmor.Iâmgoingtobesmashedbetweenbothhalvesofhisarmy.
Notwithoutafight.
Iletloose,purpleboltsrocketingdownaroundme.Pushingbacksoldiers,making them question every step. They know what my abilities look like.Theyâve seen what the lightning girl can do. They pause, but only for a
moment.Enough to letme setmy feet and turn, anglingmybody. Smallertarget,largerchanceofsurvival.Mygoodfistclenches,readytotakethemalldownwithme.
Many of the Silvers assaulting the breach turn in my direction. Thedistraction is theirdownfall.Green lightningandwhitepulse through them,clearingthewayforredflameasitchargestowardme.
Theswiftsclosethedistancefirstandcatchaweboflightning.Somezipbackwardbutothersfall,unabletooutrunsparks.Stormbolts,cracklingoutofthesky,keeptheworstatbay,formingaprotectivecirclearoundme.Fromthe outside, it looks like a cage of electricity, but itâs a cage of my ownmaking.AcageIcontrol.
Idareanykingtoputmeinacagenow.
Iexpectmylightningtodrawhim,likeamothtoacandleflame.IsearchtheoncominghordeforMaven.Aredcape,acrownofironflames.Awhitefaceinthesea,hiseyesblueenoughtopiercemountains.
Instead,theLarisjetsmoveinforanotherpass,swoopinglowoverbotharmies. They split around me, making soldiers scramble for cover asscreaming metal rushes overhead. A dozen or so figures tumble from thebacks of the larger jets, somersaulting on the air before plummeting to thegroundataspeedthatwouldpancakemosthumans.Instead,theythrowouttheir arms, stopping themselves abruptly, churning up dirt, ash, and snow.Andiron.Lotsofiron.
Evangeline and her family, brother and father included, turn to face theoncomingarmy.Thefalconkeensaroundthem,screamingas itdartsontheharshwind.Evangeline spares a glance over her shoulder, her eyes findingmine.
âDonâtmakethisahabit!âsheshouts.
Exhaustionhitsmebecause,strangely,Ifeelsafe.
EvangelineSamoshasmyback.
Fireblazesattheedgeofmyvisiononeitherside.Ithemsmein,almostblinding. I stumble back and hit a wall of muscle and tactical armor. Calcradlesmybrokenwrist,holdingitgently.
Foronce,Idonâtrememberthemanacles.
TWENTY-NINEEvangeline
ThedoorsofCorviumâs administrative tower are solid oak, but their hingesand trimmings are iron. They glide open in front of us, bowing before theRoyalHouseofSamos.Weenterthecouncilchambergracefully,infrontofthe eyes of our patchwork excuse for an alliance.Montfort and the ScarletGuardsitontheleft,simpleintheirgreenuniforms,ourSilversontherightintheir varying house colors. Their respective leaders, Premier Davidson andQueen Anabel, watch us enter in silence. Anabel wears her crown now,markingherself as aqueen, albeit to a long-deadking. Itâs abeaten ringofrosegold,setwithtinyblackgems.Simple.Butitstandsoutallthesame.Shedrums her deadly fingers on the flat of the table, eagerly displaying herweddingring.Afieryredjewel,alsosetinrosegold.LikeDavidson,shehasthe lookof a predator, neverblinking, neverdistracted.PrinceTiberias andMareBarrowarenothere,orelseIcanâtseethem.Iwonderiftheyâllsplittotheirrespectivesidesandcolors.
Windowsoneverysideofthetowerroomopenontheland,wheretheairstillsmolderswithashandthewesternfieldsarechokedinmud,floodedandswamped by the extraseasonal catastrophe. Even this high up, everythingsmellslikeblood.Iscrubbedmyhandsforwhatseemedlikehours,washingeveryinch,andstillIcanâtgetridofthescent.Itclingslikeaghost,hardertoforget than the faces of the people I killed on the field. Themetallic tanginfectseverything.
Despite the commandingview, all eyes focuson themore commandingpersonleadingourfamily.Fatherhasnoblackrobes,justhischromiumarmorshimmering like amirrormelded to his trim form.Awarrior king in everyinch.Motherdoesnotdisappointeither.Hercrownofgreenstonesmatchesthe emerald boa constrictor draped around her neck and shoulders like ashawl.Itslithersslowly,scalesreflectingtheafternoonlight.PtolemuslookssimilartoFather,thoughthearmorpaintedtohisbroadchest,narrowwaist,andleanlegsisblackasoil.Mineisamixofboth,stripedinskintightlayersof chromiumandblack steel. It isnât the armor Iworeon the field, but thearmorIneednow.Terrible,threatening,showingeveryounceofSamosprideandpower.
Four chairs like thrones are set against thewindows, andwe sit asone,presentingaunitedfront.NomatterhowmuchIwanttoscream.
I feel like a traitor to myself, having let days, weeks pass withoutopposition.WithoutsomuchasawhisperofhowmuchFatherâsplanterrifiesme.IdonâtwanttobequeenofNorta.Idonâtwanttobelongtoanyone.Butwhat Iwantdoesnâtmatter.Nothingwill threatenmyfatherâsmachinations.KingVolo is not one to be denied.Not by his own daughter, his flesh andblood.Hispossession.
Anall-too-familiaracherisesinmychestasIsettleontomythrone.Idomybest to keep composed, quiet, and dutiful.Loyal tomyblood. Itâs all Iknow.
Ihavenâtspokentomyfatherinweeks.Icanonlynodtohiscommands.Wordsarebeyondmyability.IfIopenmymouth,Ifearmytemperwillgetthebestofme.ItwasTollyâsideatostayquiet.Giveittime,Eve.Giveittime.Buttimeforwhat,Ihavenoidea.Fatherdoesnâtchangehismind.AndQueenAnabelishell-bentonpushinghergrandsonbacktothethrone.Mybrotherisjust as disappointed as I am. Everything we didâmarrying him to Elane,betraying Maven, supporting Fatherâs kingly ambitionsâwas so we couldstaytogether.Allfornothing.HeâllruleintheRift,marriedtothegirlIlove,whileIâmshippedofflikeacrateofammunition,oncemoreagifttoaking.
Iâm grateful for the distractionwhenMareBarrowdecides to grace thecouncilwithherpresence,PrinceTiberiastrailingatherheels.Iforgotwhatatragicpuppyhebecameinherpresence,allwideeyesbeggingforattention.Hiskeensoldiersensetrainsonherinsteadofthetaskathand.Bothofthemare still vibrating with adrenaline from the siege, and nowonder. It was abrutalthing.Barrowstillhasbloodonheruniform.
Both trek down the central aisle splitting the council. If they feel theweight of their action, they donât show it. Most conversation reduces to amurmurorstopsaltogethertowatchthepair,waitingtoseewhichsideoftheroomtheychoose.
Mare is quick, stalking past the front row of green uniforms to leanagainstthefarwall.Outofthespotlight.
Theprince,therightfulkingofNorta,doesnâtfollow.Heapproacheshisgrandmother instead,onehandoutstretchedtoembraceher.Anabel ismuchsmaller than him, reduced to an old woman in his presence. But her armsencirclehimeasily.Theyhavethesameeyes,burninglikeheatedbronze.Shegrinsupathim.
Tiberiaslingersinherembrace,justforamoment,holdingontothelastpieceofhisfamily.Theseatbesidehisgrandmotherisempty,buthedoesnâttakeit.HeelectstojoinMareatthewall.Hecrosseshisarmsoverhisbroadchest, fixingFatherwithaheatedstare. Iwonder ifheknowswhat shehasplannedforthetwoofus.
Noone takes theseathe leftbehind.Noonedares take theplaceof therightfulheir toNorta.Mybelovedbetrothed echoes inmyhead.Thewordstauntmeworsethanmymotherâssnakes.
Suddenly, with a flick of his hand, Father drags Salin Iral by his beltbuckle,pullinghimupfromhisseat,overhistable,andacrosstheoakfloor.Nooneprotests,ormakesasound.
âYouâresupposedtobehunters.â
Fatherâsvoicerumbleslowinhisthroat.
Iral didnât bother to wash off after the battle, evidenced by the sweatmatting his black hair.Ormaybe heâs just petrified. Iwouldnât blame him.âYourMajestyââ
âYouensuredMavenwouldnot escape. I believeyour exactwords,mylord,were âno snake can escape a silk fist.ââ Father doesnât condescend tolook at this failure of a lord, an embarrassment to his house and his name.Motherwatchesenoughforbothofthem,seeingwithherowneyesaswellastheeyesof thegreen snake. It noticesme staringand flicks its forkedpinktongueinmydirection.
OtherswatchSalinâshumiliation.TheRedslookdirtierthanSalin,someofthemstillcakedinmudandbluewithcold.Atleasttheyarenâtdrunk.LordGeneralLaris sways in his chair, sipping conspicuously from a flask largerthananythingoneshouldhaveinpolitecompany.NotthatFatherorMotheroranyoneelsewillbegrudgehimtheliquor.Larisandhishousedidtheirjobbeautifully,bringingairjetstothecausewhiledissipatingthatinfernalstormthreateningtosnowCorviumunder.Theyprovedtheirworth.
Asdidthenewbloods.Sillyastheirchosennamesounds,theyheldofftheattackforhours.Withouttheirbloodandsacrifice,CorviumwouldbebackinMavenâshands.Instead,hefailedasecondtime.Hehasbeendefeatedtwice.Oncebyrabble,andnowatthehandsofaproperarmyandaproperking.Myguttwists.Eventhoughwewon,thevictoryfeelslikedefeattome.
Mare glowers at the exchange, her entire body tensing like a twistingwire.Hereyes tickbetweenSalinandmy father,before straying toTolly. I
feelatremoroffearformybrother,eventhoughshepromisednottokillhim.InCaesarâs Square she unleashed awrath like Iâve never seen.Andon theCorviumbattlefieldsheheldherown,evensurroundedbyanarmyofSilvers.Her lightning is far deadlier than I remember. If she chose tomurderTollyrightnow,Idoubtanyonecouldstopher.Punishher,ofcourse,butnotstopher.
I have a feeling she wonât be terribly pleased by Anabelâs plan. AnySilverwoman in lovewith a kingwouldbe content to be a consort, boundthoughnotmarriedâbut IdonâtbelieveReds think thatway.Theyhavenoideahowimportantthehousebondsare,orhowdeeplyvitalheirsofstrongblood have always been. They think lovematters when wedding vows arespoken. I suppose that is a small blessing in their lives. Without power,withoutstrength,theyhavenothingtoprotectandnolegacytouphold.Theirlivesareinconsequential,butstill,theirlivesaretheirown.
AsIthoughtminewas,forafewbrief,foolishweeks.
Onthebattlefield,I toldMareBarrownot tomakeahabitof lettingmesaveher.Ironic.NowIhopeshesavesmefromaqueenâsgildedprison,andakingâsbridalcage.Ihopeherstormdestroysthealliancebeforeiteventakesroot.
ââŠpreparesforescapeaswellasattack.Swiftswereinplace,transports,airjets.WeneverevensawMaven.âSalinkeepsuphisprotest,handsraisedabovehishead.Fatherletshim.Fatheralwaysgivesapersonenoughropetohangthemselves.âTheLakelanderkingwasthere.Hecommandedhistroopshimself.â
Fatherâs eyes flash and darken, the only indication of his suddendiscomfort.âAnd?â
âAndnowheliesinagravewiththem.âSalinglancesupathissteelking,achildsearchingforapproval.Hetremblesdowntohisfingertips.IthinkofIris left behind in Archeon, a new queen on a poisoned throne. And nowwithoutherfather,cutofffromtheonlyfamilywhocamesouthatherside.Shewasformidable, tosaytheleast,but thiswillweakenherimmensely.Ifshewerenâtmyenemy,Imightfeelpity.
Slowly,Fatherrisesfromhisthrone.Helooksthoughtful.âWhokilledthekingoftheLakelands?â
Thenoosetightens.
Salingrins.âIdid.â
Thenoosesnaps,andsodoesFather.Withaclenchedfist,intheblinkofaneye,hetwistsSalinâsbuttonsoffhisjacket,rollingthemintothinspindlesofiron.Eachonewrapsaroundhisneck,pulling,forcingSalintostand.Theykeeprising,untilhistoesscrabbleagainstthefloor,searchingforpurchase.
Atthetables,theMontfortleaderleansbackinhischair.Thewomannexttohim,avery severeblondewith facial scars, curlsher lips intoa scowl. Iremember her from the attack on Summerton, the one that almost tookmybrotherâs life. Cal tortured her himself and now theyâre practically side byside. Sheâs Scarlet Guard, highly ranked, and, if Iâm not mistaken, one ofMareâsclosestallies.
âYourordersââSalinchokesout.Heclawsattheironthreadsaroundhisneck,diggingintohisflesh.Hisfacegraysasbloodpoolsbeneathhisflesh.
âMy orders were to kill Maven Calore or prevent his escape. You didneither.â
âIââ
âKilledakingofsovereignnation.AnallyofNortawhohadnoreasontodoanythingbutdefendthenewLakelanderqueen.Butnow?âFatherscoffs,usinghisabilitytodrawSalincloser.âYouâvegiventhemaratherwonderfulincentivetodrownusall.TherulingqueenoftheLakelandswillnotstandforthis.â He slaps Salin across the facewith a resounding crack. The blow ismeant to shame, not hurt. It works well. âI strip you of your titles andresponsibilities. House Iral, redistribute them as you see fit. And get thiswormoutofmysight.â
Salinâsfamilyisquicktodraghimfromthechamberbeforehecandigadeeper hole. When the iron threads spring free, all he does is cough andperhapscry.Hissobsechointhehallbutarequicklycutoffbytheslammingof thedoors.Apatheticman.Though IâmgladhedidnâtkillMaven. If theCalore brat died today, there would be no obstacle between Cal and thethrone.Calandme.Thisway,atleast,thereissomedarkhope.
âDoesanyonehaveanythingusefultocontribute?âFathersitsbackdownsmoothlyandrunsafingerdownthespineofMotherâssnake.Itseyesslideshutinpleasure.Disgusting.
JeraldHaven looks like hewants to disappear in his chair, and he justmight.Hestaresathisfoldedhands,willingmyfathernot tohumiliatehimnext. Luckily, heâs saved by the scowling Scarlet Guard commander. Shestands,scrapingbackherseat.
âOurintelligenceindicatesthatMavenCalorenowreliesoneyestokeephimsafe.Theycanseetheimmediatefutureââ
Mothercluckshertongue.âWeknowwhataneyeis,Red.â
âGoodforyou,âthecommanderreplieswithouthesitation.
IfnotforFatherandourprecariousposition,IexpectMotherwouldramheremeraldsnakedown theRedâs throat.She justpursesher lips.âControlyourpeople,Premier,orIwill.â
âIâmaCommandgeneralof theScarletGuard,Silver,â thewomanspitsback.IcatchMaresmirkingbehindher.âIfyouwantourhelp,youâregoingtoshowsomerespect.â
âOf course,âMother concedesgraciously.Her gems sparkle as shedipsherhead.âRespectwhererespectisdue.â
The commander still glowers, her rage boiling. She eyes my motherâscrownwithdisgust.
Thinking quickly, I clap my hands together. A familiar sound. Asummons.Quietly,aRedmaidofHouseSamosscampersintothechamber,aglassofwineinhand.Sheknowsherordersanddartstomyside,offeringmethedrink.With slow,exaggeratedmovements, I take thecup. Ineverbreakeyecontactwith theRedcommanderasIdrink.Myfingersdrumalong theetchedglasstohidemynerves.Atworst,IâllmakeFatherangry.AtbestâŠ
Ismash theglassgobleton thefloor.EvenI flinchat thesoundandtheimplication.Fathertriesnottoreact,buthismouthtightens.Youshouldknowmebetterthanthis.Iâmnotgivingupwithoutafight.
Without hesitation, the maid kneels to clean it up, sweeping shards ofglass into her bare hands. And without hesitation, the fierce Red womanvaultsoverhertable,settingoffaflurryofmotion.Silversjumptotheirfeet,asdoReds,andMareherselfpushesoff thewall,anglingherselfacrossherfriendâspath.
TheRedcommander towersoverher,butBarrowholdsherbackall thesame.
âHowcanweacceptthis?âthewomanshoutsatme,thrustingafistatthemaidonthefloor.Thetangofbloodincreasestenfoldassheslicesherhands.âHow?â
Everyoneintheroomseemstobewonderingthesamething.Shoutsrisebetweenmorevolatilemembersofeachside.WeareSilverhousesofnoble
and ancient blood, allied with rebels, criminals, servants, and thieves.Abilitiesornot,ourwaysoflifestandindirectopposition.Ourgoalsarenotthesame.Thecouncilchamberisapowderkeg.IfIâmluckyitwillexplode.Blowapartanythreatofmarriage.Destroythecagetheywanttoputmebackin.
OverMareâsshoulder,thecommandersneersatme,hereyesliketwobluedaggers. If this room and my own clothes werenât dripping with metal, Imightbeafraid.Istarebackather,lookingeveryinchtheSilverprincessshewasraisedtohate.Atmyfeet,themaidfinishesherworkandshufflesaway,her hands pincushionedwith pieces of glass. Imake amental note to sendWrentohealherlater.
âPoorlydone,âMotherwhispersinmyear.Shepatsmyarmandthesnakeslithersalongherhand,curlingovermyskin.Itsfleshisclammyandcold.
Igritmyteethagainstthesensation.
âHowcanweacceptthis?â
Theprinceâsvoicecutsthechaos.Itstunsmanyintosilence,includingthesneeringRedcommander.Marebodilyremovesher,escortingherbacktoherchairwithsomedifficulty.Therestturntotheexiledprince,watchinghimashestraightens.ThemonthshavebeengoodtoTiberiasCalore.Alifeofwarsuitshim.Heseemsvibrantandalive,evenafternarrowlyescapingdeathonthewalls.Inherseat,hisgrandmotherallowsherselfthesmallestsmile.Ifeelmyheartsinkinmychest.Idonâtlikethatlook.Myhandsclawthearmsofmythrone,nailsdiggingintowoodinsteadofflesh.
âEvery single person in this room knows we have reached a tippingpoint.âHis eyeswander to findMare.He draws his strength fromher. If Iwereasentimentalperson, Imightbemoved. Instead, I thinkofElane, leftsafelybehindatRidgeHouse.Ptolemushasneedofanheir,andneitherofuswantedherinthebattle.Evenso,Iwishshewereheretositbesideme.IwishIdidnâthavetosufferthisalone.
Calwastrainedtostatecraft,andheisnostrangertospeeches.Still,heâsnot as talented as his brother, and he trips upmore than a few times as heprowlsthefloor.Unfortunately,nooneseemstomind.âRedshavelivedtheirlivesasglorifiedslaves,bondedtotheirlots.Beitinaslumtown,inoneofourpalacesâorinthemudofarivervillage.âAflushspreadsacrossMareâscheeks.âIusedtothinkasIwastaught.Thatourwayswereset.Redswereinferior. Changing their place would never come to pass, not withoutbloodshed.Notwithoutgreatsacrifice.Once,Ithoughtthosethingsweretoo
highacosttopay.ButIwaswrong.
âTo thoseofyouwhodisagreeââheglaresatme,and I trembleââwhobelieveyourself better,whobelieve yourself gods, you arewrong.Andnotbecause people like the lightning girl exist. Not because we suddenly findourselves in need of allies to defeat my brother. Because you are simplywrong.
âIwasbornaprince. I knewmoreprivilege thanalmost anyonehere. Iwas raised with servants at my beck and call, and I was taught that theirblood,becauseofacolor,meant less thanmine. âRedsare stupid;Redsarerats; Reds are incapable of controlling their own lives; Reds are meant toserve.âThesearewordsweâveallheard.Andtheyarelies.Convenientonesthatmakeourliveseasier,ourshamenonexistent,andtheirlivesunbearable.â
He stops next to his grandmother, tall at her side. âIt canât be toleratedanymore.Itsimplycanâtbe.Differenceisnotdivision.â
Poor,naiveCalore.Hisgrandmothernodsinapproval,butIrememberherinmyownhouse,andwhatshesaid.Shewantshergrandsononthethrone,andshewantstheoldworld.
âPremier,âTiberiassays,gesturingtotheMontfortleader.
Withaclearingofhisthroat,themanstands.Tallerthanmost,butweedy.Hehasthelookofapalefishwithanequallyemptyexpression.âKingVolo,wethankyouforyouraidinthedefenseofCorvium.Andhere,now,beforethe eyes of our leadership and your own, I would like to know yoursentimentsonwhatPrinceTiberiashasjustsaid.â
âIfyouhaveaquestion,Premier,askit,âFatherrumbles.
Themankeepshisfacestill,unreadable.Igetthesensehehidesasmanysecretsandambitionsastherestofus.WouldthatIcouldputthescrewstohim.âRedandSilver,YourMajesty.Whichcolorrisesinthisrebellion?â
Amusclequiversinonepalecheekasmyfatherexhales.Herunsahandthroughhispointedbeard.âBoth,Premier.Thisisawarforusboth.Onthisyouhavemyword,swornontheheadsofmychildren.â
Thankyousomuch,Father.TheRedcommanderwouldcollectthatpricewithasmileifgiventheopportunity.
âPrince Tiberias speaks truthfully,â Father continues, lying though histeeth. âOurworld has changed.Wemust changewith it.Common enemiesmakestrangeallies,butwearealliesallthesame.â
As with Salin, I sense a noose tightening. It loops around my neck,threateningtohangmeabovetheabyss.Isthiswhattherestofmylifewillfeellike?Iwanttobestrong.ThisiswhatItrainedandsufferedfor.Thisiswhat I thought Iwanted.But freedomwas too sweet.One gasp of it and Icanâtletgo.Iâmsorry,Elane.Iâmsosorry.
âDoyouhaveotherquestionsabouttheterms,PremierDavidson?âFatherpusheson.âOrshallwecontinueplanningtheoverthrowofatyrant?â
âAndwhattermswouldthosebe?âMareâsvoicesoundsdifferent,andnowonder.Iknewherlastasaprisoner,smotheredalmostbeyondrecognition.Hersparkshavereturnedwithavengeance.SheglancesbetweenFatherandherpremier,lookingtothemforanswers.
Father is almost gleeful as he explains, and I holdmybreath.Saveme,MareBarrow.Loose the storm I knowyouhave.Bewitch theprinceasyoualwaysdo.
âThe Kingdom of the Rift will stand in sovereignty after Maven isremoved.Thekingsofsteelwillreignforgenerations.WithallowancesmadeformyRedcitizens,of course. Ihaveno intentionof creatinga slave stateliketheoneNortais.â
Marelooksfarfromconvinced,butholdshertongue.
âOfcourse,Nortawillneedakingofherown.â
Hereyeswiden.Horrorbleedsthroughher,andshewhipsherheadtoCal,lookingforanswers.Heseemsjustastakenabackasshefumes.Thelightninggirliseasiertoreadthanthepagesofachildrenâsbook.
Anabelrisesfromherseattostandproudly.Herlinedfacebeamsassheturns to Cal, putting a hand to his cheek.Heâs too shocked to react to hertouch.âMygrandsonistherightfulkingofNorta,andthethronebelongstohim.â
âPremierâŠ,âMarewhispers,nowlookingattheMontfortleader.Sheisalmostbegging.Aflickerofsadnesspierceshismask.
âMontfortpledgestobacktheinstallmentofCaââHestopshimself.ThemanlooksanywherebutatMareBarrow.âKingTiberias.â
Acurrentofheatripplesontheair.Theprinceisangry,violentlyso.Andtheworstisyettocome,forallofus.IfIâmlucky,heâllburnthetowerdown.
âWewillcementthealliancebetweentheRiftandtherightfulkingintheusual way,â Mother says, twisting the knife. She enjoys this. It takes
everythingtokeepmytearsinside,wherenooneelsecansee.
Theimplicationofherwordsisnotlostonanyone.Calgivesastrangledsortofyelp,agaspveryunbecomingofaprince,letaloneaking.
âEvenafterallthis,Queenstrialstillbroughtfortharoyalbride.âMotherrunsahandovermine,herfingerscrossingwheremyweddingringwillbe.
Suddenlythehighchamberfeelsstifling,andthesmellofbloodcrashesthroughmysenses. Itâsall Ican thinkabout,andI lean into thedistraction,lettingthesharpironbiteoverwhelmme.Myjawclenches,teethtightagainstall the things Iwant tosay.They rattle inmy throat,begging tobe loose. Idonât want this anymore. Let me go home. Each word is a betrayal to myhouse, my family, my blood.My teeth grate against one another, bone onbone.Alockedcageformyheart.
Ifeeltrappedinsidemyself.
Makehimchoose,Mare.Makehimturnmeaside.
Shebreathesheavily,herchestrisingandfallingatrapidspeed.Likeme,shehas toomanywords shewants to scream. I hope she sees howmuch Iwanttorefuse.
âNo one thought to consult me,â the prince hisses, pushing hisgrandmother away. His eyes burn. He has perfected the art of glaring at adozenpeopleatonce.âYoumeantomakemeakingâwithoutmyconsent?â
Anabelhasnofearofflameandseizeshisfaceagain.âWeârenotmakingyouanything.Weâresimplyhelpingyoubewhatyouare.Yourfatherdiedforyour crown, and you want to throw it away? For who? Abandon yourcountry?Forwhat?â
Hehasnoanswer.Sayno.Sayno.Sayno.
But already I see the tug.The lure. Power seduces all, and itmakes usblind.Cal isnot immuneto it. Ifanything,heisparticularlyvulnerable.Allhis life he watched a throne, preparing for a day it would be his. I knowfirsthand thatâsnot ahabit apersoncaneasilybreak.And Iknow firsthandthat few things taste sweeter than a crown. I thinkofElane again.DoeshethinkofMare?
âIneedsomeair,âhewhispers.
Ofcourse,Marefollowshimout,sparkstremblinginherwake.
Oninstinct,Ialmostcallforanothercupofwine.ButIrefrain.Mareisnâthere to stop the commander if she snaps again, andmore alcoholwill just
makemesickerthanIalreadyam.
âLongliveTiberiastheSeventh,âAnabelsays.
The chamber echoes the sentiment. I only mouth the words. I feelpoisoned.
EPILOGUE
Hescrapeshisbraceletstogetherangrily,lettinghiswristsspitsparks.Noneofthemcatchorburstintoflame.Sparkafterspark,eachonecoldandweakcompared tomine.Useless.Futile. I followhimdowna spiraling stair to abalcony.Ifithasalovelyview,Idonâtknow.IdonâthavethecapacitytoseemuchfartherthanCal.Everythinginsidemequivers.
Hope and fear battle throughme in equalmeasure. I see it in Cal too,flashingbehindhiseyes.Astormragesinthebronze,twokindsoffire.
âYou promised,â I whisper, trying to tear him apart without moving amuscle.
Calpaceswildlybeforeputtinghisback to the railsof thebalcony.Hismouth flops open and closed, searching for something to say. For anyexplanation.Heâs notMaven. Heâs not a liar, I have to remindmyself.Hedoesnâtwanttodothistoyou.Butwillthatstophim?
âIdidnâtthinkâwhatlogicalpersoncouldwantmetobekingafterwhatIâvedone?Tellmeifyoutrulythoughtanyonewouldletmeneara throne,âhesays.âIâvekilledSilvers,Mare,myownpeople.âHeburieshisfaceinhisblazinghands,scrubbingthemoverhisfeatures.Likehewantstopullhimselfinsideout.
âYoukilledRedstoo.Ithoughtyousaidtherewasnodifference.â
âDifferencenotdivision.â
Isnarl.âYoumakeawonderfulspeechaboutequalitybutletthatSamosbastardsitthereandclaimakingdomjustliketheonewewanttoend.Donâtlieandsayyoudidnâtknowabouthis terms,hisnewcrownâŠ.âMyvoicetrailsawaybeforeIcanspeaktherestaloud.Andmakeitreal.
âYouknowIhadnoidea.â
âNot one?â I raise an eyebrow. âNot awhisper fromyour grandmother.Notevenadreamofthis?â
Heswallowshard,unabletodenyhisdeepestdesires.Sohedoesnâteventry.âThereâsnothingwecandotostopSamos.Notyetââ
I slap him across the face.His headmoveswith themomentum of theblowandstaysthatway,lookingouttothehorizonIrefusetosee.
Myvoicecracks.âIâmnottalkingaboutSamos.â
âIdidnâtknow,âhesays,thewordssoftontheashwind.Sadly,Ibelievehim.Itmakesithardertostayangry,andwithoutangerIhaveonlyfearandsorrow.âIreallydidnâtknow.â
Tearsburnsalty tracksdownmycheeks,and Ihatemyself forcrying. Ijust watched who knows how many people die, and killed many of themmyself.HowcanIshedtearsoverthis?Overonepersonstillbreathingrightbeforemyeyes?
Myvoicehitches.âIsthisthepartwhereIaskyoutochooseme?â
Becauseitisachoice.Heneedonlysayno.Oryes.Onewordholdsbothourfates.
Chooseme.Choosethedawn.Hedidnâtbefore.Hehastonow.
Shaking,Itakehisfaceinmyhandsandturnhimtolookatme.Whenhecanât,when his bronze eyes focus onmy lips ormy shoulder or the brandexposedtothewarmair,somethinginsidemebreaks.
âIdonâthavetomarryher,âhemurmurs.âThatcanbenegotiated.â
âNo,itcanât.Youknowitcanât.âIlaughcoldlyathisabsurdposturing.
His eyes darken. âAndyouknowwhatmarriage is to usâtoSilvers. Itdoesnâtmeananything. Ithasnobearingonwhatwefeel,andwhowefeelfor.â
âDoyoureallythinkitâsthemarriageIâmangryabout?âRageboilsinme,hot and wild and impossible to ignore. âDo you really think I have anyambitiontobeyourâoranyoneâsâqueen?â
Warmfingerstrembleagainstmine,theirgriptighteningasIstarttoslipaway.âMare,thinkofwhatIcando.WhatkindofkingIcanbe.â
âWhydoesanyoneneedtobekingatall?âIaskslowly,sharpeningeveryword.
Hehasnoanswer.
In the palace, duringmy imprisonment, I learned thatMaven had beenmadebyhismother,formedintothemonsterhebecame.Thereisnothingonearththatcanchangehimorwhatshedid.ButCalwasmadetoo.Allofuswere made by someone else, and all of us have some thread of steel that
nothingandnoonecancut.
I thoughtCalwas immune to the corruptive temptation of power.HowwrongIwas.
Hewas born to be a king. Itâswhat hewasmade for. Itâswhat hewasmadetowant.
âTiberias.â Iâve never said his real name before. It doesnât suit him. Itdoesnâtsuitus.Butthatâswhoheis.âChooseme.â
Hishandssmoothovermine,hisfingerssplayingtomatchmyown.Ashedoes, I shutmyeyes. Iallowmyselfone longsecond tomemorizewhathefeels like.Like that day inPiedmont,when the rainstorm caught us both, Iwanttoburn.Iwanttoburn.
âMare,âhewhispers.âChooseme.â
Choose a crown. Choose another kingâs cage. Choose a betrayal toeverythingyouâvebledfor.
Ifindmythreadofsteeltoo.Thinbutunbreakable.
âI am in lovewith you, and Iwant youmore than anything else in theworld.â His words sound hollow coming from me. âAnything else in thisworld.â
Slowly,myeyelidsflutteropen.Hefindsthespinetomatchmygaze.
âThinkwhatwecoulddotogether,âhemurmurs,tryingtopullmecloser.Myfeethold firm.âYouknowwhatyouare tome.Withoutyou, Ihavenoone.Iamalone.Ihavenothingleft.Donâtleavemealone.â
Mybreathingturnsragged.
Ikisshimforwhatcouldbe,whatmightbe,whatwillbeâthelasttime.Hislipsfeelstrangelycoldaswebothturntoice.
âYou arenât alone.â The hope in his eyes cuts deeply. âYou have yourcrown.â
IthoughtIknewwhatheartbreakwas.IthoughtthatwaswhatMavendidtome.Whenhe stood and leftmekneeling.Whenhe toldmeeverything Ieverthoughthimtobewasalie.Butthen,IbelievedIlovedhim.
I know now, I didnât know what love was. Or what even the echo ofheartbreakfeltlike.
Tostandinfrontofapersonwhoisyourwholeworldandbetoldyouare
notenough.Youarenot thechoice.Youareashadowto thepersonwho isyoursun.
âMare, please.â He begs like a child in his desperation. âHow did youthinkthiswasgoingtoend?Whatdidyoureallythinkwouldhappennext?âIfeeltheheatofhimevenaseverypartofmegoescold.âYoudonâthavetodothis.â
ButIdo.
Iturnaway,deaftohisprotests.Buthedoesnâttrytostopme.Heletsmewalkaway.
Blooddrownsouteverythingbutmyscreamingthoughts.Terrible ideas,hatefulwords, brokenand twisted like abirdwithoutwings.They limpby,eachoneworsethanthelast.Notagodâschosen,butagodâscursed.Thatâswhatweallare.
ItâsawonderIdonâtfalldownthespiralingstepsofthetowerâamiracleImakeitoutsidewithoutcollapsing.Thesunoverheadishatefullybright,aharshcontrast to theabyss insideme. Ishoveahanddeep intomyuniformpocketandbarelyregisterthesharpstingofsomething.Itdoesnâttakelongtorealizeâtheearring.TheoneCalgaveme.Ialmostlaughatthethoughtofit.Anotherbrokenpromise.AnotherCalorebetrayal.
Aburningneedtoruntugsatmyheart.IwantKilorn,IwantGisa.IwantShadetoappearandtellmethisisanotherdream.Iimaginethembesideme,theirwordsandopenarmsacomfort.
Anothervoicedrownsthemout.Itburnsmyinsides.
Calfollowsorders,buthecanâtmakechoices.
IsighatthethoughtofMavenâswords.Caldidmakeachoice.Andinthedeepest parts ofmyself, Iâm not surprised. The prince is as he has alwaysbeen. A good person at his core, but unwilling to act. Unwilling to trulychangehimself.Thecrownisinhisheart,andheartsdonotchange.
Farley findsme in an alley, staring at awallwith blank eyes,my tearslongsincedried.Shehesitatesforonce,herboldnesslonggone.Instead,sheapproaches with almost tender slowness, a hand outstretched to touch myshoulder.
âIdidnâtknowuntilyoudid,âshemurmurs.âIswearit.â
Thepersonshelovedisdead,stolenbysomeoneelse.Minechosetowalkaway.Chose everything I hate over everything I am. Iwonderwhich hurts
more.
Before I let myself relax into her, allow her to comfort me, I noticesomeoneelsestandingnearby.
âIknew,âPremierDavidsonsays.Itsoundslikeanapology.AtfirstIfeelanother surge of anger, but it isnât his fault. Cal didnât have to agree. Caldidnâthavetoletmego.
Caldidnâthavetoeagerlyleapintoawell-baitedtrap.
âDivideandconquer,âIwhisper,rememberinghisownwords.Thefogofheartbreak clears enough for me to understand. Montfort and the ScarletGuardwouldneversupportaSilverking,nottruly.Notwithoutothermotivesinplay.
Davidsonnodshishead.âItâstheonlywaytobeatthem.â
Samos, Calore, Cygnet. The Rift, Norta, the Lakelands. All driven bygreed,allreadytobreakoneanotherforanalready-brokencrown.AllpartofMontfortâsownplan.Iforceanotherbreath,andtrytorecover.TrytoforgetCal,forgetMaven,focusontheroadahead.Whereitleads,Idonâtknow.
Somewhereinthedistance,somewhereinmybones,thunderrolls.
Weâregoingtoletthemkilleachother.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thankyoutothearmiesofpeoplewhomadeandcontinuetomakemybooksa possibility. To my editor Kristen and the entire editorial team, theHarperTeen andHarperCollins family,Gina, theElizabeths (bothWard andLynch),Margot,thebestcoverdesignerintheworld,SarahKaufman,andthedesign team.Toour foreignpublishersandagents, theUniversal film team,Sara, Elizabeth, Jay, Gennifer, and of course, the powerhouse that is NewLeafLiterary.Suzie,alwaysinmycorner.Pouya,Kathleen,Mia,Jo,Jackie,Jaida, Hilary, Chris, Danielle, and Sara keeping my head on straight andcomingthroughwithsomeamazingnotestoshapeKingâsCage.NewLeafisalwayspushingforward.Andoncemore,toSuzie,becauseIcanneverthankherenough.
Thankyou to the justas formidablearmy that ismyfriendsandfamily.Myparents,LouandHeather,stillthereasonforallthisandthedrivebehindeverythingIam.Mybrother,Andy,who isnowabetteradult thanme.Mygrandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins, with great love to Kim andMichelle, theclosest thingsIhave tosisters.Thankyou to friendsfrommyold home, Natalie, Alex, Katrina, Kim, Lauren, and more. Thank you tofriendsfrommynewhome,Bayan,Angela,Erin,Jenn,Ginger,Jordan,whatseemslikemostofCulverCity,andwhoeverendsupintherockingchairsforPMCCSunday.ThankyoutomybunkmatesinSlytherinCommonRoom,Jenand Morgan, and the missing bunkmate, Tori, who always has bedcouchwaiting.
Thismightbeabraggingparagraph,butIâvemadesomanyrealfriendsand grown so much throughmeeting other authors over the past year.WehaveaweirdjobthatIcouldnotdowithoutyouguys.Iwouldberemissnottoname,shame,andthankafewofyou.First,EmmaTheriault.Rememberthatname.Hersupporthasbeeninvaluableovertheyears.Thankyou,innoparticularorder,toAdamSilvera,ReneeAhdieh,LeighBardugo,JennyHan,Veronica Roth, Soman Chainani, Brendan Reichs, Dhonielle Clayton,Maurene Goo, Sarah Enni, Kara Thomas, Danielle Paige, and the entireYALLfamily.WarriormotherMargieStohl.The first friend I evermade inthisindustry,SabaaTahir,whocontinuestobeatorchagainstthenightfalling
aroundus.MydeepestloveandadmirationtoSusanDennard,whoisnotonlyan exemplary human, but a deeply talentedwriterwith unparalleled insightinto our craft. And of course, Alex Bracken, who tolerates too many textmessage rants to count, is both equally versed in StarWars and Americanhistory,hasthecutestchild-emperordogintheworld,andisatrulysteadfast,lovely,determined,intelligentfriendwhohappenstobeacrackerjackwriteraswell.IthinkIranoutofadjectives.
Iâmblessedenoughtohavereaders,anditgoeswithoutsaying,Iextendmydeepestgratitude to eachandeveryoneofyou.Toquote JK, âno storylivesunlesssomeonewantstolisten.âThankyouforlistening.Andthankyouto theentireYAcommunity.Youâvebeena light through thedarkwavesof2016.
Last time around I thanked pizza, and that stands. Thank you to theNationalParksandtheNationalParksService,whocontinuetomaintainandprotect the natural beauty of the country I love. Happy 100th birthday! Tolearnmore,volunteer,ordonate,gotowww.nps.gov/getinvolved.Ournaturaltreasuresmustbeprotectedforgenerationstocome.
ThankyoutoHillaryRodhamClinton,BernieSanders,ElizabethWarren,PresidentBarackObama,FirstLadyMichelleObama,andallthoseworkingtodefendtherightsofwomen,minorities,MuslimAmericans,refugees,andLGBTQ+ Americans. Thank you to Mitt Romney for his unwaveringoppositiontodemagoguery,andhispatrioticdutytotheUnitedStates.Thankyou to JohnMcCain for his continued fight against torture, as well as hisyears of service and his defense ofmilitary families. Thank you toCharlieBaker, Governor of Massachusetts, for his support of common sense gunreform,womenâs rights, andmarriage equality.And just in case any of theabovehasanabout-facebythetimewepublish,theseacknowledgmentswerewritteninNovember2016.
Thank you to the Khans, and to every Gold Star family in our nation.Thankyoutoeverymemberofourmilitary,everyveteran,andeverymilitaryfamily serving theUnited States with sacrificesmost of us cannot fathom.And thankyou toeveryeducator inourcountry.Youare thehandsshapingthefuture.
ThankyoutothepeopleofScotland,whovotedagainstdivisionandfear.Thankyouto theelectedrepresentativesofCalifornia,whowillcontinue todefendtheirconstituents.ThankyoutoLin-ManuelMirandaandthecastofHamilton, who have performed a true service to our country through theirlastingart.Youguysarenonstop.
Thankyoutoeveryoneinpositionsofpowerwhospeakandstandagainstinjustice, tyranny, and hatred in the United States, and across the globe.Thankyoutoeveryonelistening,andwatching,andkeepingyoureyesopen.
BACKADS
DISCOVERyournextfavoriteread
MEETnewauthorstolove
WINfreebooks
SHAREinfographics,playlists,quizzes,andmore
WATCHthelatestvideos
TUNEINtoTeaTimewithTeamEpicReads
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
PHOTOCREDITSTEPHANIEGIRARDOFSTEPHANIEGIRARDPHOTOGRAPHY
VICTORIA AVEYARD was born and raised in East Longmeadow,Massachusetts, a small town known only for theworst traffic rotary in thecontinental United States. She moved to Los Angeles to earn a BFA inscreenwritingattheUniversityofSouthernCalifornia.Shecurrentlysplitshertime between theEast andWest coasts.As an author and screenwriter, sheuses her career as an excuse to read toomany books andwatch toomanymovies.Youcanvisitheronlineatwww.victoriaaveyard.com.
Discovergreatauthors,exclusiveoffers,andmoreathc.com.
BOOKSBYVICTORIAAVEYARD
RedQueen
GlassSword
KingâsCage
DigitalNovellas
QueenSong
SteelScars
Collections
RedQueenCollection
CruelCrown
CREDITS
COVERART©2017BYJOHNDISMUKES
COVERDESIGNBYSARAHNICHOLEKAUFMAN
COPYRIGHT
HarperTeenisanimprintofHarperCollinsPublishers.
KINGâSCAGE.Copyright©2017byVictoriaAveyard.Endpapersandmap©&âą2017VictoriaAveyard.EndpapersandmapillustratedbyAmandaPersky.AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthe
nonexclusive,nontransferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverse-engineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionof
HarperCollinse-books.
www.epicreads.com
ISBN978-0-06-231069-9(tradebdg.)âISBN978-0-06-266191-3(int.edition)
ISBN978-0-06-266682-6(specialedition)âISBN978-0-06-267026-7(specialedition)
ISBN978-0-06-268177-5(int.edition)
EPubEdition©January2017ISBN9780062310712
1617181920PC/LSCH10987654321
FIRSTEDITION
ABOUTTHEPUBLISHER
Australia
HarperCollinsPublishersAustraliaPty.Ltd.
Level13,201ElizabethStreet
Sydney,NSW2000,Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollinsCanada
2BloorStreetEast-20thFloor
Toronto,ONM4W1A8,Canada
www.harpercollins.ca
NewZealand
HarperCollinsPublishersNewZealand
UnitD1,63ApolloDrive
Rosedale0632
Auckland,NewZealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz
UnitedKingdom
HarperCollinsPublishersLtd.
1LondonBridgeStreet
LondonSE19GF,UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk
UnitedStates
HarperCollinsPublishersInc.