“A pleasure, Lady Mareena.” He inclines his head in greeting, polite to a fault. “I look forward to many years in your service.”
I smile for him, pretending that there will be many years to come, but the facade becomes harder to hold as the seconds drag on. When his wife appears, leading a pair of twin boys, I want to scream. Barely four years old and yowling like puppies, they clamber around their father’s legs. He smiles softly, a private smile just for them.
A diplomat, Maven called him, an ambassador to our allies in Piedmont, far to the south. Without him, our ties to that country and their army would be cut off, forcing Norta to stand alone against our Red dawn. He’s another sacrifice we must make, another name to throw away. And he’s a father. He’s a father and we’re going to kill him.
“Thank you, Belicos,” Maven says, holding out his hand for him to shake, trying to draw the Lerolans away before I break.
I try to speak, but I can only think about the father I’m about to steal from such young children. In the back of my mind, I remember Kilorn crying after his father died. He was young too.
“Excuse us a minute, wouldn’t you?” Maven’s voice sounds far away as he speaks. “Mareena’s still getting used to the excitement of court.”
Before I can glance back at the doomed father, Maven hurries me away. A few people gawk at us and I can feel Cal’s eyes following us out. I almost stumble but Maven keeps me upright as he pushes me out onto a balcony. Normally the fresh air would cheer me up, but I doubt anything can help now.
“Children.” The words rip out of me. “He’s a father.”
Maven lets me go and I slump against the balcony rail, but he doesn’t step away. In the moonlight his eyes look like ice, glowing and glaring into me. He puts one hand on either side of my shoulders, trapping me in, forcing me to listen.
“Reynald is a father, too. The Colonel has children of her own. Ptolemus is now engaged to the Haven girl. They all have people, they all have someone who will mourn them.” He forces out the words; he’s just as torn as I. “We can’t pick and choose how to help the cause, Mare. We must do what we can, whatever the cost.”
“I can’t do this to them.”
“You think I want to do this?” he breathes, his face inches from mine. “I know them all and it hurts me to betray them, but it must be done. Think what their lives will buy, what their deaths will accomplish. How many of your people could be saved? I thought you understood this!”
He stops himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he collects himself, he raises a hand to my face, tracing the outline of my cheek with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry, I just—” His voice falters. “You might not be able to see where tonight will lead, but I can. And I know this will change things.”
“I believe you,” I whisper, reaching up to hold his hand in my own. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
Over his shoulder, back in the ballroom, the receiving line dwindles. The handshakes and pleasantries are over. The night has truly begun.
“But it does, Mare. I promise you, this is what we must do.”
As much as it hurts, as much as my heart twists and bleeds, I nod. “Okay.”
“You two all right out here?”
For a second, Cal’s voice sounds strange and high, but he clears his throat as he pokes out onto the balcony. His eyes linger on my face. “You ready for this, Mare?”
Maven answers for me. “She’s ready.”
Together, we walk away from the railing and the night and the last bit of quiet we might ever have. As we pass through the archway, I feel the ghost of a touch on my arm: Cal. I look back to see him still staring, fingers outstretched. His eyes are darker than ever, boiling with some emotion I can’t place. But before he can speak, Evangeline appears at his side. When he takes her by the hand, I have to tear my eyes away.
Maven leads us to the cleared spot in the center of the ballroom. “This is the hard part,” he says, trying to calm me.
It works a little bit and the shivers running through me ebb away.
We dance first, the two princes and their brides, in front of everyone. Another display of strength and power, showing off the two girls who won in front of all the families who lost. Right now it’s the last thing I want to do, but it’s for the cause. As the electronic music I hate clatters to life, I realize it’s at least a dance I recognize.
Maven looks shocked when my feet move into place. “You’ve been practicing?”
With your brother. “A bit.”
“You’re just full of surprises.” He chuckles, finding the will to smile.
Next to us, Cal twirls Evangeline into place. They look like a king and queen should, regal and cold and beautiful. When Cal’s eyes meet mine at the exact moment his hands close around her fingers, I feel a thousand things at once, none of them pleasant. But instead of wallowing, I move closer to Maven. He glances down at me, blue eyes wide, as the music takes hold. A few feet away, Cal takes his steps, leading Evangeline in the same dance he taught me. She’s much better at it, all grace and sharp beauty. Again I feel like falling.
We spin across the floor in time with the music, surrounded by cold onlookers. I recognize the faces now. I know the houses, the colors, the abilities, the histories. Who to fear, who to pity. They watch us with hungry eyes, and I know why. They think we’re the future, Cal and Maven and Evangeline and even me. They think they’re watching a king and queen, a prince and princess. But that’s a future I don’t intend to let happen.
In my perfect world, Maven won’t have to hide his heart, and I won’t have to hide who I truly am. Cal will have no crown to wear, no throne to protect. These people will have no more walls to hide behind.
The dawn is coming for you all.
We dance through two more songs, and other couples join us on the floor. The swirl of color blocks out any glimpse of Cal and Evangeline, until it feels like Maven and I are spinning alone. For a moment, Cal’s face floats in front of me, replacing his brother’s, and I think I’m back in the room full of moonlight.
But Maven is not Cal, no matter how much his father might want him to be. He isn’t a soldier, he won’t be a king, but he’s braver. And he’s willing to do what’s right.
“Thank you, Maven,” I whisper, barely audible over the horrible music.
He doesn’t have to ask what I’m talking about. “You don’t ever have to thank me.” His voice is strangely deep, almost breaking as his eyes darken. “Not for anything.”
This is the closest I’ve ever been to him, my nose inches away from his neck. I can feel his heart beat beneath my hands, hammering in time with my own. Maven is his mother’s son, Julian said once. He couldn’t be more wrong.
Maven maneuvers us to the edge of the dance floor, now crowded with swirling lords and ladies. No one will notice we’ve stepped away.
“Some refreshments?” a servant murmurs, holding out a tray of the fizzy golden drink. I start to wave him off before I recognize his bottle-green eyes.
I have to bite my tongue to keep from shouting his name aloud. Kilorn.
Strangely, the red uniform suits him and for once he managed to clean the dirt off his face. It seems the fisher boy I knew is entirely gone.
“This thing itches,” he grumbles under his breath. Maybe not entirely.
“Well, you won’t be in it much longer,” Maven says. “Is everything in place?”
Kilorn nods, his eyes darting through the crowd. “They’re ready upstairs.”
Above us, Sentinels crowd a wraparound landing, lining the walls. But above them, in the carved window alcoves and little balconies near the ceiling, the shadows are not Sentinels at all.
“You just have to give the signal.” He holds out the tray and the innocent glass of gold.
Maven straightens next to me, his shoulder against mine in support. “Mare?”
My turn now. “I’m ready,” I murmur, remembering the plan Maven whispered to me a few nights ago.
Shivering, I let the familiar buzz of electricity flow through me, until I can feel every light and camera blaze through my head. I lift the glass, and drink deeply.
Kilorn is quick to take the glass back. “One minute.” His voice sounds so final.
He disappears with a swish of his tray, moving through the crowd until I can’t see him anymore. Run, I pray, hoping he’s fast enough. Maven goes as well, leaving me to carry out his own task at his mother’s side.
I head toward the center of the crowd even as the feel of electricity threatens to overtake me. But I can’t let it go yet. Not until they start. Thirty seconds.
King Tiberias looms ahead of me, laughing away with his favorite son. He looks to be on his third glass of wine and his cheeks are flushed silver, while Cal sips politely at water. Somewhere to my left, I hear Evangeline’s cutting laughter, probably with her brother. All over the room, four people take their last breaths.
I let my heart count out those last seconds, beating away the moments. Cal spots me through the crowd, grinning that smile I love, and starts to come toward me. But he will never reach me, not before the deed is done. The world slows until all I know is the shocking strength within the walls. Like in Training, like with Julian, I’m learning to control it.
Four shots ring out, paired with four bright flashes from the guns high above.
The screams come next.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
TWENTY
I scream with them, and the lights flash, then flicker, then fail.
One minute of darkness. That’s what I need to give them. The screams, the yelling, the stampede of feet almost break my concentration, but I force myself to focus. The lights flash horribly, then die, making it almost impossible to move. Making it possible for my friends to slip away.
“In the alcoves!” a voice roars, yelling over the chaos. “They’re running!” More voices join the call, though none are familiar. But in this madness, everyone sounds different. “Find them!” “Stop them!” “Kill them!”
The Sentinels on the landing have their guns aimed while more blur along, barely shadows as they give chase. Walsh is with them, I remind myself. If Walsh and other servants could sneak Farley and Kilorn in before, they can sneak them out again. They can hide. They can escape. They’ll be fine.
My darkness will save them.
A blaze of fire erupts from the crowd, curling through the air like a flaming snake. It roars overhead, illuminating the dim ballroom. Flickering shadows paint the walls and the upturned faces, transforming the ballroom into a nightmare of red light and gunpowder. Sonya screams nearby, bent over the body of Reynald. The spry old Ara wrestles her off the corpse, pulling her away from the chaos. Reynald’s eyes stare glassily up at the ceiling, reflecting the red light.
Still I hold on, every muscle inside me hard and tense.
Somewhere near the fire, I recognize the king’s guards hurrying him from the room. He tries to fight them, shouting and yelling to stay, but for once they don’t follow his orders. Elara is close behind, pushed on by Maven as they run from danger. Many more follow, eager to be free of this place.
Security officers run against the tide, flooding the room with shouts and stamping boots. Lords and ladies press by me in an attempt to escape, but I can only stand in place, holding on as best I can. No one tries to pull me away; no one notices me at all. They are afraid. For all their strength, all their power, they still know the meaning of fear. And a few bullets are all it takes to bring terror out in them.
A weeping woman bumps into me, knocking me over. I land face-to-face with a corpse, staring at Colonel Macanthos’s scar. Silver blood trickles down her face, from her forehead to the floor. The bullet hole is strange, surrounded by gray, rocky flesh. She was a stoneskin. She was alive long enough to try and stop it, to shield herself. But the bullet couldn’t be stopped. She still died.
I push back from the murdered woman, but my hands slide through a mixture of silverblood and wine. A scream escapes me in a terrifying combination of frustration and grief. The blood clings to my hands, like it knows what I’ve done. It’s sticky and cold and everywhere, trying to drown me.
“MARE!”
Strong arms pull me along the floor, dragging me away from the woman I let die. “Mare, please—,” the voice pleads, but for what, I don’t know.
With a roar of frustration, I lose the battle. The lights return, revealing a warzone of silk and death. When I try to scramble to my feet, to make sure the job is really done, a hand pushes me back down.
I say the words I must, playing my own part in all this. “I’m sorry—the lights—I can’t—” Overhead, the lights flicker again.
Cal barely hears me and drops to his knees next to me. “Where are you hit?” he roars, checking me in the way I know he’s been trained. His fingers feel down my arms and legs, looking for a wound, for the source of so much blood.
My voice sounds strange. Soft. Broken. “I’m fine.” He doesn’t hear me again. “Cal, I’m fine.”
Relief floods his face and for a second I think he might kiss me again. But his senses return quicker than mine. “You’re sure?”
Gingerly, I raise a silver-stained sleeve. “How can this be mine?”
My blood is not this color. You know that.
He nods. “Of course,” he whispers. “I just—I saw you on the ground and I thought . . .” His words trail away, replaced by a terrible sadness in his eyes. But it fades quickly, shifting to determination. “Lucas! Get her out of here!”
My personal guard charges through the fray, his gun at the ready. Though he looks the same in his boots and uniform, this is not the Lucas I know. His black eyes, Samos eyes, are dark as night. “I’ll take her to the others,” he growls, hoisting me up.
Though I know better than anyone the danger is gone, I can’t help but reach out to Cal. “What about you?”
He shrugs out of my grasp with shocking ease. “I’m not running.”
And then he turns, his shoulders squared to a group of Sentinels. He steps over the corpses, head inclined to the ceiling. A Sentinel tosses him a handgun and he catches it deftly, putting a finger to the trigger. His other hand blazes to life, crackling with dark and deadly flame. Silhouetted against the Sentinels and the bodies on the floor, he looks like another person entirely.
“Let’s go hunting,” he growls, and charges up the stairs. Sentinels and Security follow, like a cloud of red-and-black smoke trailing behind his flame. They leave a a blood-spattered ballroom, hazy with dust and screams.
In the center of it all lies Belicos Lerolan, pierced not by a bullet but a silver lance. Shot from a spear gun, like the ones used to fish.. A tattered scarlet sash falls from the shaft, barely stirring in the whirlwind. There’s a symbol stamped on it—the torn sun.
Then the ballroom is gone, swallowed up by the dark walls of a service passage. The ground rumbles beneath our feet and Lucas throws me to the wall, shielding me. A sound like thunder reverberates and the ceiling shakes, dropping pieces of stone down on us. The door behind us explodes inward, destroyed by flame. Beyond, the ballroom is black with smoke. An explosion.
“Cal—” I try to squirm away from Lucas, to run back the way we came, but he throws me back. “Lucas, we have to help him!”
“Trust me, a bomb won’t bother the prince,” he growls, moving me forward.
“A bomb?” That wasn’t part of the plan. “Was that a bomb?”
Lucas draws back from me, positively shaking in anger. “You saw that bloody red scarf. This is the Scarlet Guard and that”—he points back to the ballroom, still dark and burning—“that is who they are.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” I murmur to myself, trying to remember every facet of the plan. Maven never told me about a bomb. Never. And Kilorn wouldn’t let me do this, not if he knew I would be in danger. They woul
dn’t do this to me.
Lucas holsters his gun, his voice a growl. “Killers don’t have to make sense.”
My breath catches in my throat. How many were left back there? How many children, how many needless deaths?
Lucas takes my silence for shock, but he’s wrong. What I feel now is anger.
Anyone can betray anyone.
Lucas leads me underground, through no less than three doors, each one a foot thick and made of steel. They have no locks, but he opens them with a flick of his hand. It reminds me of the first time I met him, when he waved apart the bars of my cell.
I hear the others before I see them, their voices echoing off the metal walls as they speak to each other. The king rails, his words sending shivers through me. His presence seems to fill the bunker as he paces up and down, his cloak flapping out behind him.
“I want them found. I want them in front of me with a blade at their backs, and I want them to sing like the cowardly birds they are!” He addresses a Sentinel, but the masked woman doesn’t even flinch. “I want to know what’s going on!”
Elara sits in a chair, one hand over her heart, the other clutching tightly to Maven.
He starts at the sight of me. “Are you all right?” he breathes, pulling me into a quick embrace.
“Just shaken,” I manage to say, trying to communicate as much as I can. But with Elara so close, I can barely allow myself to think, let alone speak. “There was an explosion after the shots. A bomb.”
Maven furrows his brow, confused, but he quickly masks it with rage. “Bastards.”
“Savages,” King Tiberias hisses through gritted teeth. “And what about my son?”
My gaze trails to Maven, before I realize the king doesn’t mean Maven at all. Maven takes it in stride. He’s used to being overlooked.
“Cal went after the shooters. He took a band of Sentinels with him.” The memory of him, dark and angry as flame, frightens me. “And then the ballroom exploded. I don’t know how many were still—still in there.”