Red Queen

by Victoria Aveyard

  A wave of nausea washes over me. Suddenly Sara’s painful silence, her sunken cheeks make sense. No wonder Julian had her heal me; she couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

  “But”—my words are small and hoarse, like it’s my voice being taken away—“she’s a healer.”

  “Skin healers can’t heal themselves. And no one would cross the queen’s punishment. So Sara has to live like that, shamed, forever.” His voice echoes with memories, each one worse than the last. “Silvers don’t mind pain, but we are proud. Pride, dignity, honor; those are things no ability can replace.”

  As terrible as I feel for Sara, I can’t help but fear for myself. They cut her tongue out for something she said. What will they possibly do to me?

  “You forget yourself, little lightning girl.”

  The nickname feels like a slap in the face, shocking me back to reality.

  “This world is not your own. Learning to curtsy has not changed that. You don’t understand the game we’re playing.”

  “Because this isn’t a game, Julian.” I push his book of records toward him, shoving the list of dead names into his lap. “This is life-and-death. I’m not playing for a throne or a crown or a prince. I’m not playing at all. I’m different.”

  “You are,” he murmurs, running a finger over the pages. “And that’s why you’re in danger, from everyone. Even Maven. Even me. Anyone can betray anyone.”

  His mind drifts and his eyes cloud over. In this light he looks old and gray, a bitter man haunted by a dead sister, in love with a broken woman, doomed to teach a girl who can do nothing but lie. Over his shoulder, I glimpse the map of what was, of before. This whole world is haunted.

  And then, the worst thought I’ve ever had comes. Shade is already my ghost. Who else will join him?

  “Make no mistake, my girl,” he finally breathes. “You are playing the game as someone’s pawn.”

  I don’t have the heart to argue. Think what you want, Julian. I’m no one’s fool.

  Ptolemus Samos. Colonel Macanthos. Their faces dance in my head as Cal and I spin across the floor of the sitting room. Tonight the moon is shrinking, fading away, but my hope has never been stronger. The ball is tomorrow, and afterward, well, I’m not sure where that path might go. But it will be a different path, a new road to lead us toward a better future. There will be collateral damage, injuries and deaths we can’t avoid, as Maven put it. But we know the risks. If all goes to plan, the Scarlet Guard will have raised its flag where everyone can see. Farley will broadcast another video after the attack, detailing our demands. Equality, liberty, freedom. Next to all-out rebellion, it sounds like a good deal.

  My body dips, moving toward the floor in a slow arc that makes me yelp. Cal’s strong arms close around me, pulling me back up in an easy second.

  “Sorry,” he says, half-embarrassed. “Thought you were ready for it.”

  I’m not ready. I’m scared. I force myself to laugh, to hide what I can’t show him. “No, my fault. Mind wandered off again.”

  He isn’t easy to chase off and dips his head a little, looking me in the eyes. “Still worried about the ball?”

  “More than you know.”

  “One step at a time, that’s the best you can do.” Then he laughs at himself, moving us back into simpler steps. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the best dancer either.”

  “How shocking,” I answer, matching his smile. “I thought princes were born with the ability to dance and make idle conversation.”

  He chuckles again, quickening our pace with the movement. “Not me. If I had my way I’d be in the garage or the barracks, building and training. Not like Maven. He’s twice the prince I’ll ever be.”

  I think of Maven, of his kind words, perfect manners, impeccable knowledge of court—all the things he pretends to be to hide his true heart. Twice the prince indeed. “But he’ll only ever be a prince,” I mutter, almost lamenting at the thought. “And you’ll be king.”

  His voice drops to meet my own and something dark shadows his gaze. There’s a sadness in him, growing stronger every day. Maybe he doesn’t like war as much as I think. “Sometimes I wish it didn’t have to be that way.”

  He speaks softly, but his voice fills my head. Though the ball looms on tomorrow’s horizon, I find myself thinking more about him and his hands and the faint smell of wood smoke that seems to follow Cal wherever he goes. It makes me think of warmth, of autumn, of home.

  I blame my rapidly beating heart on the melody, the music that brims with so much life. Somehow this night reminds me of Julian’s lessons, his histories of the world before our own. That was a world of empires, of corruption, of war—and more freedom than I’ve ever known. But the people of that time are gone, their dreams in ruin, existing only in smoke and ash.

  It’s our nature, Julian would say. We destroy. It’s the constant of our kind. No matter the color of blood, man will always fall.

  I didn’t understand that lesson a few days ago, but now, with Cal’s hands in mine, guiding me with the lightest touch, I’m beginning to see what he meant.

  I can feel myself falling.

  “Are you really going to go with the legion?” Even the words make me afraid.

  He barely nods. “A general’s place is with his men.”

  “A prince’s place is with his princess. With Evangeline,” I add hastily. Good one, Mare, my mind screams.

  The air around us thickens with heat, though Cal doesn’t move at all. “She’ll be all right, I think. She’s not exactly attached to me. I won’t miss her either.”

  Unable to meet his gaze, I focus on what’s right in front of me. Unfortunately, that happens to be his chest and a much-too-thin shirt. Above me, he takes a ragged breath.

  Then his fingers are under my chin, tipping my head up to meet his gaze. Gold flame flickers in his eyes, reflecting the heat beneath. “I’ll miss you, Mare.”

  As much as I want to stand still, to stop time and let this moment last forever, I know it’s not possible. Whatever I might feel or think, Cal is not the prince I’m promised to. More importantly, he’s on the wrong side. He’s my enemy. Cal is forbidden.

  So with hesitant, reluctant steps, I back away, out of his grasp and out of the circle of warmth I’ve gotten so used to.

  “I can’t,” is all I can manage, though I know my eyes betray me. Even now I can feel tears of anger and regret, tears I swore not to cry.

  But maybe the prospect of going off to war has made Cal bold and reckless, things he never was before. He takes me by the hand, pulling me to him. He’s betraying his only brother. I’m betraying my cause, Maven, and myself, but I don’t want to stop.

  Anyone can betray anyone.

  His lips are on mine, hard and warm and pressing. The touch is electrifying, but not like I’m used to. This isn’t a spark of destruction but a spark of life.

  As much as I want to pull away, I just can’t do it. Cal is a cliff and I throw myself over the edge, not bothering to think of what it could do to us both. One day he’ll realize I’m his enemy, and all this will be a far-gone memory. But not yet.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  NINETEEN

  It takes hours to paint and polish me into the girl I’m supposed to be, but it seems like just a few minutes. When the maids stand me up in front of the mirror, silently asking for my approval, I can only nod at the girl staring back at me from the glass. She looks beautiful and terrified by what’s to come, wrapped in shimmering silk chains. I have to hide her, the scared girl; I have to smile and dance and look like one of them. With great effort, I push my fear away. Fear will get me killed.

  Maven waits for me at the end of the hall, a shadow in his dress uniform. The charcoal black makes his eyes stand out, vibrantly blue against pale white skin. He doesn’t look scared at all, but then, he’s a prince. He’s
Silver. He won’t flinch.

  He extends an arm toward me, and I gladly take it. I expect him to make me feel safe or strong or both, but his touch reminds me of Cal and our betrayal. Last night comes into sharper focus, until every breath stands out in my head. For once, Maven doesn’t notice my unease. He’s thinking about more important things.

  “You look beautiful,” he says quietly, nodding down at my dress.

  I don’t agree with him. It’s a silly, overdone thing, a complication of purple jewels that sparkle whenever I turn, making me look like a glittery bug. Still, I’m supposed to be a lady tonight, a future princess, so I nod and smile gratefully. I can’t help but remember that my lips, now smiling for Maven, were kissing his brother last night.

  “I just want this to be over.”

  “It won’t end tonight, Mare. This won’t be over for a long time. You know that, right?” He speaks like someone much older, much wiser, not like a seventeen-year-old boy. When I hesitate, truly not knowing how to feel, his jaw tightens. “Mare?” he prods, and I can hear the tremors in his voice.

  “Are you afraid, Maven?” My words are weak, a whisper. “I am.”

  His eyes harden, shifting into blue steel. “I’m afraid of failing. I’m afraid of letting this opportunity pass us by. And I’m afraid of what happens if nothing in this world ever changes.” He turns hot under my touch, driven by an inner resolve. “That scares me more than dying.”

  It’s hard not to be swept away by his words and I nod along with him. How can I back out? I will not flinch.

  “Rise,” he murmurs, so low I barely hear him. Red as the dawn.

  His grip tightens on me as we come to the hall in front of the lifts. A troop of Sentinels guards the king and queen, both waiting for us. Cal and Evangeline are nowhere to be found, and I hope they stay away. The longer I don’t have to look at them together, the happier I’ll be.

  Queen Elara wears a sparkling monstrosity of red, black, white, and blue, displaying the colors of her house and her husband’s. She forces a smile, staring right through me to her son.

  “Here we go,” Maven says, letting go of my hand to stand at his mother’s side. My skin feels strangely cold without him.

  “So how long do I have to be here?” He forces a whine into his voice, playing his part well. The more he can keep her distracted, the better our chances. One poke into the wrong head and everything will go up in smoke. And get us all killed for good measure.

  “Maven, you can’t just come and go as you please. You have duties and you’ll stay as long as you’re needed.” She fusses over him, adjusting his collar, his medals, his sleeves, and for a moment, it takes me off guard. This is a woman who invaded my thoughts, who took me away from my life, who I hate, and still there’s something good. She loves her son. And for all her faults, Maven loves her.

  King Tiberias, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered by Maven at all. He barely glances his way. “The boy’s just bored. Not enough excitement in his day, not like back at the front,” he says, running a hand over his trimmed beard. “You need a cause, Mavey.”

  For a brief moment, Maven’s annoyed mask drops. I have one, his eyes scream, but he keeps his mouth shut.

  “Cal’s got his legion, he knows what he’s doing, what he wants. You need to figure out what you’re going to do with yourself, eh?”

  “Yes, Father,” Maven says. Though he tries to hide it, a shadow crosses his face.

  I know that look very well. I used to wear it myself, when my parents would hint at me to be more like Gisa, even though that was impossible. I went to sleep hating myself, wishing I could change, wishing I could be quiet and talented and pretty like her. There’s nothing that hurts more than that feeling. But the king doesn’t notice Maven’s pain, just like my parents never noticed mine.

  “I think helping me fit in here is cause enough for Maven,” I say, hoping to draw the king’s disapproving eye away. When Tiberias turns to me, Maven sighs and shoots me a grateful smile.

  “And what a job he’s done,” the king replies, looking me over. I know he’s remembering the poor Red girl who refused to bow to him. “From what I hear, you’re close to a proper lady now”

  But the smile he forces doesn’t reach his eyes and there’s no mistaking the suspicion there. He wanted to kill me back in the throne room, to protect his crown and the balance of his country, and I don’t think the urge will ever fade away. I’m a threat, but I’m also an investment. He’ll use me when he wants and kill me when he must.

  “I’ve had good help, my king.” I bow, pretending to be flattered, even though I don’t care what he thinks. His opinion isn’t worth the rust on my father’s wheelchair.

  “Are we just about ready?” Cal’s voice says, shattering my thoughts.

  My body reacts, spinning around to see him enter the hall. My stomach churns, but not with excitement or nerves or any of the things silly girls talk about. I feel sick with myself, with what I let happen—with what I wanted to happen. Though he tries to hold my gaze, I tear my eyes away, to Evangeline hanging off his arm. She’s wearing metal again and she manages to smirk without moving her lips.

  “Your Majesties,” she murmurs, dipping into a maddeningly perfect curtsy.

  Tiberias smiles at her, his son’s bride, before clapping a hand down on Cal’s shoulder. “Just waiting on you, son,” he chortles.

  When they stand next to each other, the family resemblance is undeniable—same hair, same red-gold eyes, even the same posture. Maven watches, his blue eyes soft and thoughtful, while his mother keeps her grip on his arm. With Evangeline on one side and his father on the other, Cal can’t do much more than meet my eyes. He nods slightly, and I know it’s the only greeting I deserve.

  Despite the decorations, the ballroom looks the same as it did more than a month ago, when the queen first pulled me into this strange world, when my name and identity were officially stripped away. They struck a blow against me here and now it’s my turn to strike back.

  Blood will spill tonight.

  But I can’t think of that now. I have to stand with the others, to speak with the hundred members of court lined up to trade words with royalty and one jumped-up Red liar. My eyes flit down the line, looking for the marked ones—Maven’s targets given to the Guard, the sparks to light a fire. Reynald, the colonel, Belicos—and Ptolemus. The silver-haired, dark-eyed brother of Evangeline.

  He is one of the first to greet us, standing just behind his severe father, who hurries along to his daughter. When Ptolemus approaches me, I fight the urge to be sick. Never have I done anything so difficult as looking into the eyes of a dead man walking.

  “My congratulations,” he says, his voice hard as rock. The hand he extends is just as firm. He doesn’t wear a military uniform, but a suit of black metal that fits together in smooth, gleaming scales. He’s a warrior, but not a soldier. Like his father before him, Ptolemus leads the Archeon city guard, protecting the capital with his own army of officers. The head of a snake, Maven called him before. Cut him down and the rest will die. His hawkish eyes are on his sister, even while he holds my hand. He lets me go in a hurry, quickly passing by Maven and Cal before embracing Evangeline in a rare display of affection. I’m surprised their stupid outfits don’t get stuck together.

  If all goes to plan, he’ll never hug his sister again. Evangeline will have lost a brother, just like me. Even though I know that pain firsthand, I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for her. Especially not with the way she holds on to Cal. They look like complete opposites, he in his simple uniform while she glitters like a star in a dress of razor spikes. I want to kill her, I want to be her. But there’s nothing I can do about that. Evangeline and Cal are not my problem tonight.

  As Ptolemus disappears and more people pass with cold smiles and sharp words, it gets easier to forget myself. House Iral greets us next, led by the lithe, languid movements of Ara, the Panther. To my surprise, she bows lowly to me, smiling as she does so. But there
’s something strange about it, something that tells me she knows more than she lets on. She passes without a word, sparing me from another interrogation.

  Sonya follows her grandmother, arm in arm with another target: Reynald Iral, her cousin. Maven told me he’s a financial adviser, a genius who keeps the army funded with taxes and trade schemes. If he dies, so does the money, and so will the war. I’m willing to trade one tax collector for that. When he takes my hand, I can’t help but notice his eyes are frozen and his hands are soft. Those hands will never touch mine again.

  It’s not as easy to dismiss Colonel Macanthos when she approaches. The scar on her face stands out sharply, especially tonight when everyone seems so polished. She might not care for the Guard, but she didn’t believe the queen either. She wasn’t ready to swallow the lies being spoon-fed to the rest of us.

  Her grip is strong as she shakes my hand; for once someone isn’t afraid I’ll break like glass. “Every happiness to you, Lady Mareena. I can see this one suits you.” She jerks her head toward Maven. “Not like fancy Samos,” she adds in a playful whisper. “She’ll make a sad queen, and you a happy princess, mark my words.”

  “Marked,” I breathe. I manage to smile, even though the colonel’s life will soon be at an end. No matter how many kind words she says, her minutes are numbered.

  When she moves on to Maven, shaking his hand and inviting him to inspect troops with her in a week or so, I can tell he’s just as affected. After she’s gone, his hand drops to mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I know he regrets naming her, but like Reynald, like Ptolemus, her death will serve a purpose. Her life will be worth it all, in the end.

  The next target comes from much farther down the line, from a lower house. Belicos Lerolan has a jolly grin, chestnut hair, and sunset-colored clothes to match his house colors. Unlike the others I’ve greeted tonight, he seems warm and kind. The smile behind his eyes is as real as his handshake.