فصل هجدهم

EIGHTEEN

Moonlight falls on the floor, bright enough for us to see by. In the silvery light, the red blush in my skin is barely visible—I look the same as a Silver. Chairs scrape along the wood floor as Cal rearranges the sitting room, clearing space for us to practice. The chamber is secluded, but the hum of cameras is never far away. Elara’s men are watching, but no one comes to stop us. Or rather, to stop Cal.

He pulls a strange device, a little box, out of his jacket and sets it in the middle of the floor. He stares at it expectantly, waiting for something.

“Can that thing teach me how to dance?”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “No, but it’ll help.”

Suddenly, a pulsing beat explodes from the box, and I realize it’s a speaker, like the ones in the arena back home. Only this is for music, not battle. Life, not death.

The melody is light and quick, like a heartbeat. Across from me, Cal smiles wider, and his foot taps in time. I can’t resist, my own toes wiggling with the music. It’s so bouncy and upbeat, not at all like the cold, metallic music of Blonos’s classroom or the sorrowful songs of home. My feet slide along, trying to remember the steps Lady Blonos taught me.

“Don’t worry about that, just keep moving.” Cal laughs. A drumbeat trills over the music, and he spins, humming along. For the first time, he looks like he doesn’t have the weight of a throne on his shoulders.

I feel it too as my fears and worries lift, if only for a few minutes. This is a different kind of freedom, like flying along on Cal’s cycle.

Cal’s much better at this than me, but he still looks like a fool; I can only imagine how idiotic I must appear. Still, I’m sad when the song ends. As the notes fade away into the air, it feels like I’m falling back to reality. Cold understanding creeps through me; I shouldn’t be here.

“This probably isn’t the best idea, Cal.”

He cocks his head, pleasantly confused. “Why’s that?”

He’s really going to make me say it. “I’m not even supposed to be alone with Maven.” I stumble over the words, feeling myself flush. “I don’t know if dancing with you in a dark room is exactly okay.” Instead of arguing, Cal just laughs and shrugs. Another song, slower with a haunting tune, fills the room. “The way I see it, I’m doing my brother a favor.” Then he grins crookedly. “Unless you want to step on his feet all night?” “I have excellent footing, thank you very much,” I say, crossing my arms.

Slowly, softly, he takes my hand. “Maybe in the ring,” he says. “The dance floor, not so much.” I look down to watch his feet, moving in time with the music. He pulls me along, forcing me to follow, and, despite my best efforts, I stumble against him.

He smiles, happy to prove me wrong. He’s a soldier at heart, and soldiers like to win. “This is the same timing as most of the songs you’ll hear at the ball. It’s a simple dance, easy to learn.” “I’ll find some way to mess it up,” I grumble, allowing him to push me around the floor. Our feet trace a rough box, and I try not to think about his closeness, or the calluses of his hands. To my surprise, they feel like mine: rough with years of work.

“You might,” he murmurs, all his laughter gone.

I’m used to Cal being taller than me, but he seems smaller tonight. Maybe it’s the darkness, or maybe it’s the dance. He seems like he did when I first met him; not a prince but a person.

His eyes linger on my face, tracing over where my wound was. “Maven fixed you up nicely.” There’s an odd bitterness to his voice.

“It was Julian. Julian and Sara Skonos.” Though Cal doesn’t react as strongly as Maven did, his jaw tightens all the same. “Why don’t you two like her?” “Maven has his reasons, good reasons,” he mumbles. “But it’s not my story to tell. And I don’t dislike Sara. I just don’t—I don’t like thinking about her.” “Why? What’s she done to you?”

“Not to me,” he sighs. “She grew up with Julian, and my mother.” His voice drops at the mention of his mom. “She was her best friend. And when she died, Sara didn’t know how to grieve. Julian was a wreck, but Sara . . .” He trails off, wondering how to continue. Our steps slow until we stop, frozen as the music echoes around us.

“I don’t remember my mother,” he says sharply, trying to explain himself. “I wasn’t even a year old when she died. I only know what my father tells me, and Julian. And neither of them like to talk about her at all.” “I’m sure Sara could tell you about her, if they were best friends.” “Sara Skonos can’t speak, Mare.”

“At all?”

Cal continues slowly, in the level, calm voice his father uses. “She said things she shouldn’t have, terrible lies, and she was punished for it.” Horror bleeds through me. Can’t speak. “What did she say?”

In a single heartbeat, Cal goes cold under my fingers. He draws back, stepping out of my arms as the music finally dies. With quick motions, he pockets the speaker, and there is nothing but our beating hearts to fill the silence.

“I don’t want to talk about her anymore.” He breathes heavily. His eyes seem oddly bright, flickering between me and the windows full of moonlight.

Something twists in my heart; the pain in his voice hurts me. “Okay.” With quick, deliberate steps, he moves toward the door like he’s trying very hard not to run. But when he turns back around and faces me across the room, he looks the same as usual—calm, collected, detached.

“Practice your steps,” he says, sounding very much like Lady Blonos. “Same time tomorrow.” And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in a room full of echoes.

“What the hell am I doing?” I mutter to no one but myself.

I’m halfway to my bed before I realize something is very wrong with my room: the cameras are off. Not a single one hums at me, seeing with electric eyes, recording everything I do. But unlike the outage before, everything else around me still buzzes along. Electricity still pulses through the walls, to every room but mine.

Farley.

But instead of the revolutionary, Maven steps out of the darkness. He throws aside the curtains, letting in enough moonlight to see by.

“Late-night walk?” he says with a bitter smile.

My mouth falls open, struggling for words. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here.” I force a smile, hoping to calm myself. “Lady Blonos will be scandalized. She’ll punish us both.” “Mother’s men owe me a favor or two,” he says, pointing to where the cameras are hidden. “Blonos won’t have evidence to convict.” Somehow that doesn’t comfort me. Instead, I feel shivers run over my skin. Not in fear though, but anticipation. The shivers deepen, electrifying my nerves like my lightning as Maven takes measured steps toward me.

He watches me blush with what looks like satisfaction. “Sometimes I forget,” he murmurs, letting a hand touch my cheek. It lingers, like he can feel the color that pulses in my veins. “I wish they wouldn’t have to paint you up every day.” My skin buzzes under his fingers, but I try to ignore it. “That makes two of us.” His lips twist, trying to form a smile, but it just won’t come.

“What’s wrong?”

“Farley made contact again.” He draws back, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide trembling fingers. “You weren’t here.” Just my luck. “What did she say?”

Maven shrugs. He walks to the window, staring out at the night sky. “She spent most of her time asking questions.” Targets. She must’ve pressed him again, asking for information Maven didn’t want to give. I can tell by the droop of his shoulders, the tremor in his voice, that he said more than he wanted to. A lot more.

“Who?” My mind flies to the many Silvers I’ve met here, the ones who have been kind to me, in their own way. Would any of them be a sacrifice to her revolution? Who would be marked?

“Maven, who did you give up?”

He spins around, a ferocity I’ve never seen flashing in his eyes. For a second, I’m afraid he might burst into flames. “I didn’t want to do it, but she’s right. We can’t sit still; we have to act. And if that means I’m going to give her people, I’m going to do it. I won’t like it, but I will. And I have.” Like Cal, he draws a shaky breath in an attempt to calm himself. “I sit on councils with my father, for taxes and security and defense. I know who will be missed by my—by the Silvers. I gave her four names.” “Who?”

“Reynald Iral. Ptolemus Samos. Ellyn Macanthos. Belicos Lerolan.” A sigh escapes me, before I feel myself nod. These deaths will not be hidden. Evangeline’s brother, the colonel—they will be missed indeed. “Colonel Macanthos knew your mother was lying. She knows about the other attacks—” “She commands a half legion and heads the war council. Without her, the front will be a mess for months.” “The front?” Cal. His legion.

Maven nods. “My father will not send his heir to war after this. An attack so close to home, I doubt he’ll even let him out of sight of the capital.” So her death will save Cal. And help the Guard.

Shade died for this. His cause is mine now.

“Two birds with one stone,” I breathe, feeling hot tears threaten to fall. As difficult as this might be, I’ll trade her life for Cal’s. I’ll do it a thousand times.

“Your friend’s part of this too.”

My knees shake, but I manage to keep myself upright. I alternate between anger and fear as Maven explains the plan with a heavy, hardened heart.

“And what if we fail?” I ask when he finishes, finally speaking aloud the words he’s been skirting around.

He barely shakes his head. “That won’t happen.”

“But what if we do?” I’m not a prince, my life has not been charming. I know to expect the worst out of everything and everyone. “What happens if we fail, Maven?” His breath rattles in his chest as he inhales, fighting to remain calm. “Then we’ll be traitors, both of us. Tried for treason, convicted—and killed.” During my next lesson with Julian, I can’t concentrate. I can’t focus on anything but what’s coming. So much can go wrong, and so much is at stake. My life, Kilorn’s, Maven’s—we’re all putting our necks on the line for this.

“It’s really not my business, but,” Julian begins, his voice startling me, “you seem, well, very attached to Prince Maven.” I almost laugh in relief, but I can’t help but feel stung at the same time. Maven’s the last person I should be wary of in this pit of snakes. Just the suggestion makes me bristle. “I am engaged to him,” I reply, trying my best not to snap.

But instead of letting it drop, Julian leans forward. His placid demeanor usually soothes me, but today it’s nothing but frustrating. “I’m just trying to help you. Maven is his mother’s son.” This time I really do snap. “You don’t know a thing about him.” Maven’s my friend. Maven’s risking more than me. “Judging him by his parents is like judging me for my blood. Just because you hate the king and queen doesn’t mean you can hate him too.” Julian stares at me, his gaze level and full of fire. When he speaks, his voice sounds more like a growl. “I hate the king because he couldn’t save my sister, because he replaced her with that viper. I hate the queen because she ruined Sara Skonos, because she took the girl I loved and broke her apart. Because she cut Sara’s tongue out.” And then lower, a lament, “She had such a beautiful voice.” 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 important, 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.