“Oh, don’t you fret, little lightning girl,” she sneers. “I don’t think about you at all. Though your loyalty to my son is quite inspiring. Isn’t it, Maven?” She tosses a glance over her shoulder to her son, still shackled.
In response, his arms snap out, pulling apart the metal shackles with shocking ease. They melt off his wrists in globs of hot iron, burning holes in the floor. When he rises to his feet, I expect him to defend me, to save me like I’m trying to save him. Then I realize Arven still has hold of me, and the familiar feel of sparks, of electricity, has not returned. He’s still holding me back, even though he let Maven go.
When Cal’s eyes meet mine, I know he understands much better than I do. Anyone can betray anyone echoes louder and louder, until it howls in my ears like the winds of a hurricane.
“Maven?” I have to look up to see his face, and for a second, I don’t recognize him. He’s still the same boy, the one who comforted me, kissed me, kept me strong. My friend. More than my friend. But something is wrong in him. Something has changed. “Maven, help me up.”
He rolls his shoulders, cracking the bones to chase away an ache. His motions are sluggish and strange, and when he settles back on his feet, hands on his hips, I feel like I’m seeing him for the first time. His eyes are so cold.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“What?” I hear my voice like it’s coming from someone else. I sound like a little girl. I am just a little girl.
Maven doesn’t answer, but holds my gaze. The boy I know is still there, hiding, flickering behind his eyes. If I can just reach him— but Maven moves faster than me, pushing me away when I reach out.
“CAPTAIN TYROS!” Cal roars, still able to speak. Elara has not taken that from him yet. But no one comes running. No one can hear us. “CAPTAIN TYROS!” he yells again, pleading with no one. “EVANGELINE! PTOLEMUS, SOMEONE HELP!”
Elara is content to let him shout, enjoying the sound, but Maven flinches. “Do we have to listen to this?” he asks.
“No, I suppose we don’t,” she sighs, tipping her head. Cal’s body moves with her thoughts, shifting to face his father.
Cal panics, his eyes growing wide. “What are you doing?”
Beneath him, the king’s face darkens. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I don’t understand at all. I don’t belong here. Julian was right. This is a game I don’t understand, a game I don’t know how to play. I wish Julian were here now, to explain, to help, to save me. But no one is coming.
“Maven, please,” I plead, trying to make him look at me. But he turns his back, focusing on his mother and his betrayed blood. He is his mother’s son.
She didn’t care that he was in my memories. She didn’t care that he was part of all this. She didn’t even look surprised. The answer is frighteningly simple. Because she already knew. Because he is her son. Because this was her plan all along. The thought stings like knives running along skin, but the pain only makes it more real.
“You used me.”
Finally, Maven condescends to look back at me. “Catching on, are you?”
“You chose the targets. The colonel, Reynald, Belicos, even Ptolemus—they weren’t the Guard’s enemies, they were yours.” I want to tear him apart, lightning or not. I want to make him hurt.
I am finally learning my lesson. Anyone can betray anyone.
“And this, this was just another plot. You pushed me into this, even though it was impossible, even though you knew Cal would never betray his father! You made me believe it. You made all of us believe it.”
“It’s not my fault you were stupid enough to play along,” he replies. “Now the Guard is finished.”
It feels like a kick in the teeth. “They were your friends. They trusted you.”
“They were a threat to my kingdom, and they were stupid,” he fires back. He stoops, bending over me with his twisted smile. “Were.”
Elara laughs at his cruel joke. “It was too easy to slip you into their midst. One sentimental servant was all it took. How such fools became a danger, I’ll never know.”
“You made me believe,” I whisper again, remembering every lie he ever told me. “I thought you wanted to help us.” It comes out a whimper. For a split second, his pale features soften. But it doesn’t last.
“Foolish girl,” Elara says. “Your idiocy was almost our ruin. Using your own guard in the escape, causing all the outages—do you really think I was so stupid as to miss your tracks?”
Numb, I shake my head. “You let me do it. You knew about it all.”
“Of course I knew. How else do you think you came so far? I had to cover your tracks, I had to protect you from anyone with enough sense to see the signs,” she snarls, growling like a beast. “You do not know the lengths I went to keep you from harm.” She flushes with pleasure, enjoying every second of this. “But you are Red, and like all the others, you were doomed to fail.”
It breaks against me, memories falling into place. I should’ve known, deep down, not to trust Maven. He was too perfect, too brave, too kind. He turned his back on his kind to join the Guard. He pushed me at Cal. He gave me exactly what I wanted and it made me blind.
Wanting to scream, wanting to weep, I let my eyes trail to Elara. “You told him exactly what to say,” I whisper. She doesn’t have to nod, but I know I’m right. “You know who I am in here, and you knew”—my head aches, remembering how she played inside my mind—“you knew exactly how to win me over.”
Nothing hurts more deeply than the hollow look on Maven’s face.
“Was anything true?”
When he shakes his head, I know that is also a lie.
“Even Thomas?”
The boy at the war front, the boy who died fighting someone else’s war. His name was Thomas and I saw him die.
The name punches through his mask, cracking the facade of cool indifference, but isn’t enough. He shrugs off the name and the pain it causes him. “Another dead boy. He makes no difference.”
“He makes all the difference,” I whisper to myself.
“I think it’s time to say your good-byes, Maven,” Elara cuts in, putting a white hand on her son’s shoulder. I’ve struck too close to his weak spot, and she won’t let me push further.
“I have none,” he whispers, turning back to his father. His blue eyes waver, looking at the crown, the sword, the armor, anywhere but his father’s face. “You never looked at me. You never saw me. Not when you had him.” He jerks his head toward Cal.
“You know that’s not true, Maven. You are my son. Nothing will change that. Not even her,” Tiberias says, casting a glance at Elara. “Not even what she’s about to do.”
“Dearest, I’m not doing anything,” she chirps back. “But your beloved boy”—she slaps Cal across the face—“the perfect heir”—she slaps him again, harder this time—“Coriane’s son.” Another slap draws blood, splitting his lip. “I cannot speak for him.”
Thick silverblood drips down Cal’s chin. Maven’s eyes linger on the blood and the slightest frown pulls at his features.