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.