Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard
“I pledge myself to you, Maven Calore,” I say, hammering the last nails into my coffin. My voice quivers, but I don’t stop. “I accept.”
It carries such finality, slamming a door on the rest of my life. I feel like collapsing, but somehow manage to sit back down gracefully.
Maven slinks back to his seat, grateful to be out of the spotlight. His mother pats him on the arm in reassurance. She smiles softly, just for him. Even Silvers love their children. But she turns cold again as Cal stands, her smile disappearing in a heartbeat.
The air seems to go out of the room as every girl inhales, waiting for his decision. I doubt Cal had any say in choosing a queen, but he plays his part well, just like Maven, just like I’m trying to do. He smiles brightly, flashing even white teeth that make a few girls sigh, but his warm eyes are terribly solemn.
“I am my father’s heir, born to privilege and power and strength. You owe me your allegiance, just as I owe you my life. It is my duty to serve you and my kingdom as best I can—and beyond.” He’s rehearsed his speech, but the fervor Cal has can’t be faked. He believes in himself, that he’ll be a good king—or die trying. “I need a queen who will sacrifice just as much as I will, to maintain order, justice, and balance.”
The Queenstrial girls lean forward, eager to hear his next words. But Evangeline doesn’t move, an obscene smirk twisting her face. House Samos looks equally calm. Her brother Ptolemus even stifles a yawn. They know who has been chosen.
“Lady Evangeline.”
There’s no gasp of surprise, no shock or excitement from her. Even the other girls, heartbroken as they are, sit back with only dejected shrugs. Everyone saw this coming. I remember the fat family back in the Spiral Garden, complaining that Evangeline Samos had already won. They were right.
With a fluid, cold grace, Evangeline rises to her feet. She barely looks at Cal, instead turning over her shoulder to sneer at the crestfallen girls. She wants them to see her moment of glory. She wants everyone to know what she’s made of. A smile ghosts over her face when her eyes fall on me. I don’t miss the feral flash of teeth.
When she turns back around, Cal echoes his brother’s proposal. “In the eyes of my royal father and the noble court, I would ask for your hand in marriage. I pledge myself to you, Evangeline Samos. Will you accept?”
“I pledge myself to you, Prince Tiberias,” She says in a voice that is oddly high and breathy, contrasting with her hard appearance. “I accept.”
With a triumphant smirk, Evangeline sits back down and Cal retreats to his own seat. He keeps a smile fixed in place like a piece of armor, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
Then I feel a hand find my arm, nails biting into my skin. I fight the urge to jump out of my chair. Evangeline doesn’t react, still staring straight ahead at the place that will one day be hers. If this were the Stilts, I’d knock a few of her teeth out. Her fingers dig into me, down to the flesh. If she draws blood, red blood, our little game will be over before it even has a chance to begin. But she stops short of breaking skin, leaving bruises the maids will have to hide.
“Get in my way and I’ll kill you slowly, little lightning girl,” she mutters through her smile. Little lightning girl. The nickname is really starting to get on my nerves.
To cement her point, the smooth metal bracelet on her wrist shifts, turning into a circle of sharp thorns. Each tip glistens, begging to spill blood. I swallow hard, trying not to move. But she lets go quickly, returning her hand to her lap. Once again, she’s the picture of a demure Silver girl. If there was ever a person begging for an elbow to the face, it is Evangeline Samos.
A quick glance around the room tells me the court has turned sullen. Some girls have tears in their eyes and throw wolfish glares at Evangeline and even me. They probably waited for this day all their lives, only to fail. I want to hand my betrothal over, to give away what they so desperately want, but no. I must look happy. I must pretend.
“As wonderful and happy as today has been,” King Tiberias says, ignoring the sentiment in the room, “I must remind you why this choice has been made. The might of House Samos joined with my son, and all his children to follow, will help guide our nation. You all know the precarious state of our kingdom, with war in the north, and foolish extremists, enemies to our way of life, attempting to destroy us from within. The Scarlet Guard might seem small and insignificant to us but they represent a dangerous turn for our Red brothers.” More than a few people in the crowd scoff at the term brothers, myself included.
Small and insignificant. Then why do they need me? Why use me, if the Scarlet Guard is nothing to them? The king is a liar. But what he’s trying to hide, I’m still not sure. It could be the Guard’s strength. It could be me.
It’s probably both.
“Should this rebellious streak take hold,” he continues, “it will end in bloodshed and a divided nation, something I cannot bear. We must maintain the balance. Evangeline and Mareena will help do that, for the sake of us all.”
Murmurs go through the crowd at the king’s words. Some nod, others look cross at the Queenstrial choice, but no one voices their dissent. No one speaks up. No one would listen if they did.
Smiling, King Tiberias bows his head. He has won and he knows it. “Strength and power,” he repeats. The motto echoes out from him, as every person says the words.
The words trip over my tongue, feeling foreign in my mouth. Cal stares down at me, watching me chant along with all the others. In that moment, I hate myself.
“Strength and power.”
I suffer through the feast, watching but not seeing, hearing but not listening. Even the food, more food than I’ve ever seen, tastes plain in my mouth. I should be stuffing my face, enjoying what’s probably the best meal of my life, but I can’t. I can’t even speak when Maven murmurs to me, his voice calm and level in assurance.
“You’re doing fine,” he says, but I try to ignore him. Like his brother, he wears the same metal bracelet, the flame maker. It’s a firm reminder of exactly who and what Maven is—powerful, dangerous, a burner, a Silver.
Sitting at a table made of crystal, drinking bubbly gold liquid until my head spins, I feel like a traitor. What are my parents eating for dinner tonight? Do they even know where I am? Or is Mom sitting on the porch, waiting for me to come home?
Instead, I’m stuck in a room full of people who would kill me if they knew the truth. And the royals of course, who would kill me if they could, who probably will kill me one day. They’ve pulled me inside out, swapping Mare for Mareena, a thief for a crown, cotton for silk, Red for Silver. This morning I was a servant, tonight I’m a princess. How much more will change? What else will I lose?
“That’s enough of that,” Maven says, his voice swimming through the din of the feast. He pulls away my fancy goblet, replacing it with a glass of water.
“I liked that drink.” But I gulp down the water greedily, feeling my head clear.
Maven just shrugs. “You’ll thank me later.”
“Thank you,” I snap as snidely as possible. I haven’t forgotten the way he looked at me this morning, like I was something on the bottom of his shoe to be scraped off and tossed away. But now his gaze is softer, calmer, more like Cal’s.
“I’m sorry about earlier today, Mareena.”
My name is Mare. “I’m sure you are,” comes out instead.
“Really,” he says, leaning toward me. We’re seated side by side, with the rest of the royals, at the high table. “It’s just—usually younger princes get to choose. One of the few perks of not being the heir,” he adds with a terribly forced smile.
Oh. “I didn’t know that,” I reply, not really knowing what to say. I should feel sorry for him, but I can’t bring myself to feel any kind of pity for a prince.
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t. It’s not your fault.”
He looks back to the feasting hall, casting his gaze out like a fishing line. I wonder what face he’s looking for. “Is she here?” I m
He hesitates, then shakes his head. “No, I didn’t have anyone in mind. But it was nice to have the option of a choice, you know?”
No, I don’t know. I don’t have the luxury of choice. Not now, not ever.
“Not like my brother. He grew up knowing he’d never have a say in his future. I guess now I’m getting a taste of what he feels.”
“You and your brother have everything, Prince Maven,” I whisper in a voice so fervent it might be a prayer. “You live in a palace, you have strength, you have power. You wouldn’t know hardship if it kicked you in the teeth, and believe me, it does that a lot. So excuse me if I don’t feel sorry for either of you.”
There I go, letting my mouth run away with my brain. As I recover, drinking down the rest of the water in an attempt to cool my temper, Maven just stares at me, his eyes cold. But the wall of ice recedes, melting as his gaze softens.
“You’re right, Mare. No one should feel sorry for me.” I can hear the bitterness in his voice. With a shiver, I watch him throw a glance at Cal. His older brother beams like the sun, laughing with their father. When Maven turns back around, he forces another smile but there’s a surprising sadness in his eyes.
As much as I try, I can’t ignore the sudden jolt of pity I feel for the forgotten prince. But it passes when I remember who he is, and who I am.
I’m a Red girl in a sea of Silvers and I can’t afford to feel sorry for anyone, least of all the son of a snake.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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ELEVEN
The crowd toasts at the end of the feast, their glasses raised to the royal table. On they go, lords and ladies in a rainbow of color trying to wiggle their way into favor. I’ll have to learn them all soon, matching color to house and house to people. Maven whispers their names to me in turn, even though I won’t remember them tomorrow. At first it’s annoying, but soon I find myself leaning in to hear the names.
Lord Samos is the last to stand, and when he does, a hush falls. This man commands respect, even among titans. Though his black robes are plain, trimmed with simple silk, and he has no great jewels or badges to speak of, he has the undeniable air of power. I don’t need Maven to tell me he’s the highest of the High Houses, a person to be feared above all others.
“Volo Samos,” Maven murmurs. “Head of House Samos. He owns and operates the iron mines. Every gun in the war comes from his land.”
So he’s not just a noble. His importance comes from more than just titles.
Volo’s toast is short and to the point. “To my daughter,” he rumbles, his voice low, steady, and strong. “The future queen.”
“To Evangeline!” Ptolemus shouts, jumping to his feet next to his father. His eyes blaze around the room, daring someone to oppose them. A few lords and ladies look annoyed, angry even, but they raise their cups with the rest, saluting the new princess. Their glasses reflect the light, each one a tiny star in the hand of a god.
When he finishes, Queen Elara and King Tiberias rise, both of them smiling at their many guests. Cal gets up as well, then Evangeline, then Maven, and after one dumb moment, I join them. The many houses do the same at their tables and the scraping of chairs on marble sounds like nails on a stone. Thankfully, the king and queen simply bow and walk down the short set of steps leading away from our high table. It’s over. I’ve made it through my first night.
Cal takes Evangeline’s hand and leads her after them, with Maven and me bringing up the rear. When he takes my hand, his skin is shockingly cold.
The Silvers press in on both sides, watching us pass in heavy silence. Their faces are curious, cunning, cruel—and behind every false smile is a reminder; they are watching. Every eye scraping over me, looking for cracks and imperfections, makes me squirm, but I cannot break.
I cannot slip. Not now, not ever. I’m one of them. I’m special. I’m an accident. I’m a lie. And my life depends on maintaining the illusion.
Maven tightens his fingers in mine, willing me onward. “It’s almost over,” he whispers as we near the far end of the hall. “Almost there.”
The feeling of being smothered passes as we leave the feast behind but the cameras follow us with heavy, electric eyes. The more I think about it, the stronger their gaze becomes, until I can sense where the cameras are before I see them. Maybe this is a side effect of my “condition.” Maybe I’ve just never been surrounded by this much electricity before, and this is how everyone feels. Or maybe I’m just a freak.
Back in the passageway, a group of Sentinels waits to escort us upstairs. But then, what threats could there possibly be to these people? Cal, Maven, and King Tiberias can control fire. Elara can control your mind. What could they fear?
We will rise, Red as the dawn. Farley’s voice, my brother’s words, the creed of the Scarlet Guard, comes back to me. They attacked the capital already; this could even be their next target. I could be a target. Farley could hold me up in another hijacked broadcast, revealing me to the world in an attempt to undermine the Silvers. “Look at their lies, look at this lie,” she would say, pushing my face into the camera, bleeding me red for all the world to see.
Crazier and crazier thoughts come to mind, each one more frightening and outlandish than the last. This place is making me insane after just one day.
“That went well,” Elara says, snatching her hand away from the king when we reach the residence floors. He doesn’t seem to mind in the least. “Take the girls to their rooms.”
She doesn’t direct her command at anyone in particular, but four Sentinels break off from the group. Their eyes glitter behind their black masks.
“I can do it,” Cal and Maven say in unison. They glance at each other, startled.
Elara raises one perfect eyebrow. “That would be inappropriate.”
“I’ll escort Mareena, Mavey can take Evangeline,” Cal offers quickly, and Maven purses his lips at the nickname. Mavey. Probably what Cal called him as a boy and now it’s stuck, the emblem of a younger brother, always in shadow, always second.
The king shrugs. “Let them, Elara. The girls need a good night of sleep and Sentinels would give any lady bad dreams.” He chuckles, tossing a playful nod at the guards. They don’t respond, silent as stone. I don’t know if they’re allowed to talk at all.
After a moment of tense silence, the queen turns on her heel. “Very well.” Like any wife, she hates her husband for challenging her, and like any queen, she hates the power the king holds over her. A bad combination.
“To bed,” the king says, his voice a bit more forceful and authoritative. The Sentinels stay with him, following when he goes the opposite way from his wife. I guess they don’t sleep in the same room, but that’s not much of a shock.
“My room is where, exactly?” Evangeline asks, glaring at Maven. The blushing queen-to-be is gone, replaced by the sharp she-devil I recognize.
He gulps at the sight of her. “Uh, this way, miss—ma’am—my lady.” He holds out an arm to her, but she breezes right by him. “Good night, Cal, Mareena,” Maven sighs, making a point of looking at me.
I can only nod at the retreating prince. My betrothed. The thought makes me want to be sick. Even though he seemed polite, nice even, he’s Silver. And he’s Elara’s son, which might be even worse. His smiles and kind words cannot hide that from me. Cal’s just as bad, raised to rule, to perpetuate this world of division even further.
He watches Evangeline disappear, his eyes lingering on her retreating form in a way that makes me strangely annoyed.
“You picked a real winner,” I mutter once she’s out of earshot.
Cal’s smile dies with a downward twitch and he starts walking toward my room, ascending the sloping spiral. My little legs fight to keep up with his long strides, but he doesn’t seem to notice, lost in thought.
“At least you knew this was coming. I woke up this morning and didn’t even have a boyfriend.” Cal winces at my words but I don’t care. I can’t handle his self-pity. “And, you know, there’s the ‘you’re going to be king’ thing. That must be a boost.”
He chuckles to himself, but he’s not laughing. His eyes darken and he takes a step forward, surveying me from head to toe. Instead of looking judgmental, he seems sad. Deeply sad in the red-gold pools of his eyes, like a little boy lost, looking for someone to save him.
“You’re a lot like Maven,” he says after a long moment that makes my heart race.
“You mean engaged to a stranger? We do have that in common.”
“You’re both very smart.” I can’t help but snort. Cal obviously doesn’t know I can’t get through a fourteen-year-old’s math test. “You know people, you understand them, you see through them.”
“I did a great job of that last night. I definitely knew you were the crown prince the whole time.” I still can’t believe it was only last night. What a difference a day makes.
“You knew I didn’t belong.”
His sadness is contagious, sending an ache over me. “So we’ve switched places.”
Suddenly the palace doesn’t seem so beautiful or so magnificent. The hard metal and stone is too severe, too bright, too unnatural, trapping me in. And underneath it all, the electric buzz of cameras drones on. It’s not even a sound, but a feeling in my skin, in my bones, in my blood. My mind reaches out to the electricity, as if on instinct. Stop, I tell myself. Stop. The hair stands up on my arm as something sizzles beneath my skin, a crackling energy I can’t control. Of course it returns now, when it’s the last thing I want.
But the feeling passes as quickly as it came and the electricity shifts to a low hum again, letting the world return to normal.
“Are you okay?”
Cal stares down at me, confused.