King’s Cage (Red Queen Book 3)

Security patrols my hallway in roving pairs, but with Maven on my arm, they don’t stop me. Even though it’s night, long past when I should be in bed, no one says a word. No one crosses a prince. Where he’s leading now, I don’t know, but he promised to get me there. Home.

He’s quiet but determined, fighting a small smile. I can’t help but beam at him. Maybe he isn’t so bad. But he stops us long before I assume he should—we never even leave the residence floors.

“Here we are,” he says, and raps on the door.

It swings open after a moment, revealing Cal. His appearance takes me back a step. His chest is bare, while the rest of his strange armor hangs off him. Metal plates woven into fabric, some of it dented. I don’t miss the purple bruise above his heart, or the faint stubble on his cheeks. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in over a week, and I’ve caught him at a bad moment, obviously. He doesn’t notice me at first; he’s focused on removing more of his armor. It makes me gulp.

“Got the board set, Mavey—,” he begins, but stops when he looks up to see me standing with his brother. “Mare, how can I, uh, what can I do for you?” He stumbles over his words, at a loss for once.

“I’m not exactly sure,” I reply, looking from him to Maven. My betrothed only smirks, raising an eyebrow a little.

“For being the good son, my brother has his own discretions,” he says, and his air is surprisingly playful. Even Cal grins a little, rolling his eyes. “You wanted to go home, Mare, and I’ve found you someone who’s been there before.”

After a second of confusion, I realize what Maven is saying and how stupid I am for not realizing it before. Cal can get me out of the palace. Cal was at the tavern. . . . He got himself out of here, so he can do the same for me.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“Maven,” Cal says through gritted teeth, his grin gone. “You know she can’t. It’s not a good idea—”

It’s my turn to speak up, to take what I want. “Liar.”

He looks at me with his burning eyes, his stare going right through me. I hope he can see my determination, my desperation, my need.

“We’ve taken everything from her, brother,” Maven murmurs, drawing close. “Surely we can give her this?”

And then slowly, reluctantly, Cal nods and waves me into his room. Dizzy with excitement, I hurry inside, almost hopping from foot to foot.

I’m going home.

Maven lingers at the door, his smile fading a little when I leave his side. “You’re not coming.” It isn’t a question.

He shakes his head. “You’ll have enough to worry about without me tagging along.”

I don’t have to be a genius to see the truth in his words. But just because he isn’t coming doesn’t mean I will forget what he’s done for me already. Without thinking, I throw my arms around Maven. He doesn’t respond for a second but slowly lets an arm drop around my shoulders. When I pull back, a silver blush paints his cheeks. I can feel my own blood run hot beneath my skin, pounding in my ears.

“Don’t be too long,” he says, tearing his eyes away from me to look at Cal.

Cal barely smirks. “You act like I’ve never done this before.”

The brothers share a chuckle, laughing just for each other like I’ve seen my brothers do a thousand times before. When the door shuts behind Maven, leaving me with Cal, I can’t help but feel a little less animosity toward the princes.

Cal’s room is twice the size of mine but so cluttered it seems smaller. Armor and uniforms and combat suits fill the alcoves along the walls, all hanging from what I assume are models of Cal’s body. They tower over me like faceless ghosts, staring with invisible eyes. Most of the armor is light, steel plate and thick fabric, but a few are heavy-duty, meant for battle, not training. One even has a helmet of shining metal, with a tinted glass faceplate. An insignia glitters on the sleeve, sewn into the dark gray material. The flaming black crown and silver wings. What it means, what the uniforms are for, what Cal has done in them, I don’t want to think about.

Like Julian, Cal has stacks of books piled all over, spilling out in little rivers of ink and paper. They aren’t as old as Julian’s though—most look newly bound, typed out and reprinted on plastic-lined sheets to preserve the words. And all are written in Common, the language of Norta, the Lakelands, and Piedmont. While Cal disappears into his closet, stripping off the rest of his armor as he goes, I sneak a glance at his books. These are strange, full of maps, diagrams, and charts—guides to the terrible art of warfare. Each one is more violent than the last, detailing military movements from recent years and even before. Great victories, bloody defeats, weapons, and maneuvers, it’s enough to make my head spin. Cal’s notes inside them are worse, outlining the tactics he favors, which ones are worth the cost of life. In the pictures, tiny squares represent soldiers, but I see my brothers and Kilorn and everyone like them.

Beyond the books, by the window, there’s a little table and two chairs. On the tabletop, a game board lies ready, pieces already in place. I don’t recognize it, but I know it was meant for Maven. They must meet nightly, to play and laugh as brothers do.

“We won’t have very long to visit,” Cal calls out, making me jump. I glance at the closet, catching sight of his tall, muscled back as he pulls a shirt on. There are more bruises, and scars as well, even though I’m sure he has access to an army of healers if he wants them. For some reason, he’s chosen to keep the scars.

“As long as I get to see my family,” I answer back, maneuvering myself away so I don’t keep staring at him.

Cal emerges, this time fully dressed in plain clothes. After a moment, I realize it’s the same thing he wore the night I met him. I can’t believe I didn’t see him for what he was from the beginning: a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And now I’m the sheep pretending to be a wolf.

We leave the residence floors quickly, moving downward. Eventually, Cal turns a corner, directing us into a wide concrete room. “Just in here.”

It looks like some kind of storage facility, filled with rows of strange shapes covered in canvas sheets. Some are big, some are small, but all are hidden.

“It’s a dead end,” I protest. There’s no way out but to go the way we came in.

“Yes, Mare, I brought you to a dead end,” he sighs, walking down a particular row. The sheets ripple as he passes, and I glimpse shining metal underneath.

“More armor?” I poke at one of the shapes. “I was going to say, you should probably get some more. Didn’t seem like you had enough upstairs. Actually, you might want to put some on. My brothers are pretty huge and like to beat on people.” Though, judging by Cal’s book collection and muscles, he can hold his own. Not to mention the whole controlling-fire thing.

He just shakes his head. “I think I’ll be fine without it. Besides, I look like a Security officer in that stuff. We don’t want your family getting the wrong idea, do we?”

“What idea do we want them to get? I don’t think I’m exactly allowed to introduce you properly.”

“I work with you, we got a leave pass for the night. Simple,” he says, shrugging. Lying comes so easily to these people.

“So why would you come with me? What’s the story there?”

With a sly grin, Cal gestures to the canvas shape next to him. “I’m your ride.”

He throws back the sheet, revealing a gleaming contraption of metal and black paint. Two treaded wheels, mirrored chrome, lights, a long leather seat—it’s a transport like I’ve never seen.

“It’s a cycle,” Cal says, running a hand over the silver handlebars like a proud father. He knows and loves every inch of the metal beast. “Fast, agile, and it can go where transports can’t.”

“It looks—like a death trap,” I finally say, unable to mask my trepidation.

Laughing, he pulls a helmet from the back of the seat. I sure hope he doesn’t expect me to wear it, much less ride this thing. “That’s what Father said, and Colonel Macanthos. They won’t mass-produce for the armies yet, but I’ll win them over. Haven’t crashed once since I perfected the wheels.”

“You built it?” I say, incredulous, but he shrugs like it’s nothing. “Wow.”

“Just wait until you ride it,” he says, holding out the helmet to me. As if on cue, the far wall jolts, its metal mechanisms groaning somewhere, and begins to slide away, revealing the dark night beyond.

Laughing, I take a step back from the death machine. “That’s not happening.”

But Cal just smirks and swings one leg over the cycle, sinking down into the seat. The engine rumbles to life beneath him, purring and growling with energy. I can sense the battery deep in the machine, powering it on. It begs to be let loose, to consume the long road between here and home. Home.

“It’s perfectly safe, I promise,” he shouts over the engine. The headlight blazes on, illuminating the dark night beyond. Cal’s red-gold eyes meet mine and he stretches out a hand. “Mare?”

Despite the horrible sinking in my stomach, I slide the helmet onto my head.

I’ve never ridden in an airship, but I know this must feel like flying. Like freedom. Cal’s cycle eats up the familiar road in elegant, arcing curves. He’s a good driver, I’ll give him that. The old road is full of bumps and holes, but he dodges each one with ease, even as my heart rises in my throat. Only when we coast to a stop half a mile from town do I realize I’m holding on to him so tightly he has to pry me off. I feel suddenly cold without his warmth, but I push the thought away.

“Fun, right?” he says, powering down the cycle. My legs and back are already sore from the strange, small seat, but he hops off with an extra spring in his step.

With some difficulty, I slide off as well. My knees wobble a bit, more from the pounding heartbeat still thrumming in my ears, but I think I’m okay.

“It won’t be my first choice in transportation.”

“Remind me to take you up in an airjet sometime. You’ll stick to cycles after that,” he replies as he rolls the cycle off the road, into the cover of the woods. After throwing a few leafy branches over it, he stands back to admire his handiwork. If I didn’t know exactly where to look, I wouldn’t notice the cycle was there at all.

“You do this a lot, I see.”

Cal turns back to me, one hand in his pocket. “Palaces can get . . . stuffy.”

“And crowded bars, Red bars, aren’t?” I ask, pushing the topic. But he starts walking toward the village, setting a fast pace like he can outrun the question.

“I don’t go out to drink, Mare.”

“So, what, you just catch pickpockets and hand out jobs willy-nilly?”

When he stops short and whirls around, I knock into his chest, feeling for a moment the solid weight behind his frame. Then I realize he’s laughing deeply.

“Did you just say willy-nilly?” he says between chuckles.

My face blushes red beneath my makeup, and I give him a little shove. Very inappropriate, my mind chides. “Just answer the question.”

His smile remains, though the laughter fades away. “I don’t do this for myself,” he says. “You have to understand, Mare. I don’t—I’m going to be king one day. I don’t have the luxury of being selfish.”

“I’d think the king would be the only person with that luxury.”

He shakes his head, his eyes forlorn as they run over me. “I wish that were true.”

Cal’s fist clenches open and closed, and I can almost see the flames on his skin, hot and rising with his anger. But it passes, leaving only an ember of regret in his eyes. When he finally starts walking again, it’s at a more forgiving pace.

“A king should know his people. That’s why I sneak out,” he murmurs. “I do it in the capital too, and at the war front. I like to see how things really are in the kingdom, instead of being told by advisers and diplomats. That’s what a good king would do.”

He acts like he should be ashamed for wanting to be a good leader. Maybe, in the eyes of his father and all those other fools, that’s the way it should be. Strength and power are the words Cal has been raised to know. Not goodness. Not kindness. Not empathy or bravery or equality or anything else that a ruler should strive for.

“And what do you see, Cal?” I ask, gesturing toward the village coming into view between the trees. My heart jumps in my chest, knowing I’m so close.

“I see a world on the edge of a blade. Without balance, it will fall,” he sighs, knowing it’s not the answer I want to hear. “You don’t know how precarious things are, how close this world is to falling back into ruin. My father does everything he can to keep us all safe, and so will I.”

“My world is already in ruin,” I say, kicking at the dirt road beneath us. All around us, the trees seem to open, revealing the muddy place I call home. Compared to the Hall, it must look like a slum, like a hell. Why can’t he see that? “Your father keeps your people safe, not mine.”

“Changing the world has costs, Mare,” he says. “Many would die, Reds most of all. And in the end, there wouldn’t be victory, not for you. You don’t know the bigger picture.”

“So tell me.” I bristle, hating his words. “Show me the bigger picture.”

“The Lakelands, they’re like us, a monarchy, nobles, a Silver elite to rule the rest. And the Piedmont princes, our own allies, would never back a nation where Reds are equal. Prairie and Tiraxes are the same. Even if Norta changed, the rest of the continent would not let it last. We would be invaded, divided, torn apart. More war, more death.”

I remember Julian’s map, the breadth of the greater world beyond our country. All controlled by Silvers with nowhere for us to turn. “What if you’re wrong? What if Norta is the beginning? The change the others need? You don’t know where freedom leads.”

Cal has no answer for that, and we fall into bitter silence. “This is it,” I mutter, stopping under the familiar outline of my house.

My feet are silent on the porch, a far cry from Cal’s heavy, stomping steps that make the wood beams creak. His familiar heat rolls off him, and for a split second I imagine him sending the house up in flames. He senses my unease and puts a warm hand on my shoulder, but that does nothing to settle me.

“I can wait below if you want,” he whispers, taking me by surprise. “We don’t want to chance them recognizing me.”

“They won’t. Even though my brothers served, they probably wouldn’t know you from a bedpost.” Shade would, I thought, but Shade is smart enough to keep his mouth shut. “Besides, you said you want to know what’s not worth fighting for.”

With that I pull open the door, stepping through to the home that is no longer my own. It feels like taking a step back in time.

The house ripples with a chorus of snores, not just from my father but from the lumpy shape in the sitting area as well. Bree slumps in the overstuffed chair, a pile of muscle and thin blankets. His dark hair is still closely shaved in the army style, and there are scars on his arms and face, testaments to his time fighting. He must’ve lost a bet with Tramy, who tosses and turns up in my cot. Shade is nowhere to be seen, but he’s never been one for sleep. Probably out prowling the village, looking up old girlfriends.

“Rise and shine.” I laugh, ripping the blanket off Bree in a smooth motion.

He crashes to the floor, probably hurting the floor more than himself, and rolls to a stop at my feet. For half a second, it looks like he might fall back asleep.

Then he blinks at me, bleary-eyed and confused. In short, his usual self. “Mare?”

“Shut your face, Bree, people are trying to sleep!” Tramy groans in the dark.

“ALL OF YOU, QUIET!” Dad roars from his bedroom, making us all jump.

I never realized how much I missed this. Bree blinks the sleep from his eyes and hugs me to him, laughing deep in his chest. A nearby thunk announces Tramy as he jumps from the upper loft, landing beside us on nimble feet.

“It’s Mare!” he shouts, pulling me up from the floor and into his arms. He’s thinner than Bree but not the weedy string bean I remember. There are hard knots of muscle under my hands; the last few years have not been easy for him.

“Good to see you, Tramy,” I breathe against him, feeling like I might burst.

The bedroom door bangs open, revealing Mom in a tattered bathrobe. She opens her mouth to scold the boys, but the sight of me kills her words. Instead, she smiles and claps her hands together. “Oh, you’ve finally come to visit!”

Dad follows her, wheezing and wheeling his chair into the main room. Gisa is the last to wake up, but she only pokes her head out over the loft ledge, looking down.

Tramy finally lets me go, putting me back down next to Cal, who’s doing a wonderful job looking awkward and out of place.

“Heard you caved and got a job,” Tramy teases, poking me in the ribs.

Bree chuckles, ruffling my hair. “The army wouldn’t want her anyway, she’d rob her legion blind.”

I shove him with a smile. “Seems the army doesn’t want you either. Discharged, eh?”

Dad answers for them, wheeling forward. “Some lottery, the letter said. Won an honorable discharge for the Barrow boys. Full pension too.” I can tell he doesn’t believe a word of it, but Dad doesn’t press the subject. Mom, on the other hand, eats it right up.

“Brilliant, isn’t it? The government finally doing something for us,” she says, kissing Bree on the cheek. “And now you, with a job.” The pride radiates off her like I’ve never seen—usually she saves all of it for Gisa. She’s proud of a lie. “It’s about time this family came into some luck.”

Up above us, Gisa scoffs. I don’t blame her. My luck broke her hand and her future. “Yes, we’re very lucky,” she huffs, finally moving to join us.

Her going is slow, moving down the ladder with one hand. When she reaches the floor, I can see her splint is wrapped in colored cloth. With a pang of sadness, I realize it’s a piece of her beautiful embroidery that will never be finished.

I reach out to hug her, but she pulls away, her eyes on Cal. She seems to be the only one to notice him. “Who’s that?”

Flushing, I realize I’ve almost forgotten him completely. “Oh, this is Cal. He’s another servant up at the Hall with me.”

“Hi,” he manages, giving a stupid, little wave.

Mom giggles like a schoolgirl and waves back, her gaze lingering on his muscled arms. But Dad and my brothers aren’t so charmed.

“You’re not from these parts,” Dad growls, staring at Cal like he’s some kind of bug. “I can smell it on you.”

“That’s just the Hall, Dad—,” I protest, but Cal cuts me off.

“I’m from Harbor Bay,” he says, making sure to drop his r’s in the usual Harbor accent. “I started serving at Ocean Hill, the royal residence out there, and now I travel with the pack when they move.” He glances at me sideways, a knowing look in his eye. “A lot of the servants do that.”

Mom draws a rattled breath and reaches for my arm. “Will you? Do you have to go with those people when they leave?”

I want to tell them that I didn’t choose this, that I’m not walking away willingly. But I have to lie, for their sake. “It was the only position they had. Besides, it’s good money.”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea what’s going on,” Bree growls, face-to-face with Cal. To his credit, Cal barely bats an eye at him.

“Nothing’s going on,” he says coolly, meeting Bree’s glare with equal fire in his eyes. “Mare chose to work for the palace. She signed a contract for a year of service, and that’s it.”

With a grunt, Bree backs away. “I liked the Warren boy better,” he grumbles.

“Stop being a child, Bree,” I snap. My mom flinches at my harsh voice, like she’s forgotten what I sound like after only three weeks. Strangely, her eyes swim with tears. She’s forgetting you. That’s why she wants you to stay. So she doesn’t forget.

“Mom, don’t cry,” I say, stepping forward to hug her. She feels so thin in my arms, thinner than I remember. Or maybe I just never noticed how frail she’s become.

“It’s not just you, dear, it’s—” She looks away from me, to Dad. There’s a pain in her eyes, a pain I don’t understand. The others can’t bear to look at her. Even Dad stares at his useless feet. A grim weight settles on the house.

And then I realize what’s going on, what they’re trying to protect me from.

My voice shakes when I speak, asking a question I don’t want to know the answer to. “Where’s Shade?”

Mom crumples in on herself, barely making it to a chair at the kitchen table before she devolves into sobs. Bree and Tramy can’t bear to watch, both turning away. Gisa doesn’t move, staring at the floor like she wants to drown in it. No one speaks, leaving only the sound of my mother’s tears and my father’s labored breathing to fill the hole my brother once occupied. My brother, my closest brother.

I fall backward, almost missing a step in my anguish, but Cal steadies me. I wish he wouldn’t. I want to fall down, to feel something hard and real so the pain in my head won’t hurt so badly. My hand strays to my ear, grazing over the three stones I hold so dearly. The third, Shade’s stone, feels cold against my skin.

“We didn’t want to tell you in a letter,” Gisa whispers, picking at her splint. “He died before the discharge came.”

The urge to electrify something, to pour my rage and sorrow into a single bolt of biting power, has never felt so strong. Control it, I tell myself. I can’t believe I was worried about Cal burning the house down; lightning can destroy as easily as flame.

Gisa fights tears, forcing herself to say the words. “He tried to run away. He was executed. Beheaded.”

My legs give way so quickly even Cal doesn’t have a chance to catch me. I can’t hear, I can’t see, I can only feel. Sorrow, shock, pain, the whole world spinning around me. The lightbulbs buzz with electricity, screaming at me so loudly I think my head might split. The fridge crackles in the corner, its old, bleeding battery pulsing like a dying heart. They taunt me, tease me, trying to make me crack. But I won’t. I won’t.

“Mare,” Cal breathes in my ear, his arms warm around me, but he might as well be talking to me from across an ocean. “Mare!”

I heave a painful gasp, trying to catch my breath. My cheeks feel wet, though I don’t remember crying. Executed. My blood boils under my skin. It’s a lie. He didn’t run. He was in the Guard. And they found out. They killed him for it. They murdered him.

I have never known anger like this. Not when the boys left, not when Kilorn came to me. Not even when they broke Gisa’s hand.

An earsplitting whine screeches through the house, as the fridge, the lightbulbs, and the wiring in the walls kick into high gear. Electricity hums, making me feel alive and angry and dangerous. Now I’m creating the energy, pushing my own strength through the house just like Julian taught me.

Cal yells, shaking me, trying to get through somehow. But he can’t. The power is in me and I don’t want to let go. It feels better than pain.

Glass rains down on us as the lightbulbs explode, popping like corn in a skillet. Pop pop pop. It almost drowns out Mom’s scream.

Someone pulls me to my feet with rough strength. Their hands go to my face, holding me still as they speak. Not to comfort me, not to empathize, but to snap me out of it. I would know that voice anywhere.

“Mare, pull yourself together!”

I look up to see clear green eyes and a face full of worry.

“Kilorn.”

“Knew you’d stumble back eventually,” he mumbles. “Kept an eye out.”

His hands are rough against my skin, but calming. He brings me back to reality, to a world where my brother is dead. The last surviving lightbulb swings above us, barely illuminating the room and my stunned family.

But that’s not the only thing lighting up the darkness.

Purple-white sparks dance around my hands, growing weaker by the moment, but plain as day. My lightning. I won’t be able to lie my way out of this one.

Kilorn pulls me to a chair, his face a storm cloud of confusion. The others only stare, and with a pang of sadness, I realize they’re afraid. But Kilorn isn’t afraid at all—he’s angry.

“What did they do to you?” he rumbles, his hands inches from mine. The sparks fade away entirely, leaving just skin and shaking fingers.

“They didn’t do anything.” I wish this was their fault. I wish I could blame this on someone else. I look over Kilorn’s head, meeting Cal’s eyes. Something releases in him, and he nods, communicating without words. I don’t have to lie about this.

“This is what I am.”

Kilorn’s frown deepens. “Are you one of them?” I’ve never heard so much anger, so much disgust, forced into a single sentence. It makes me feel like dying. “Are you?”

Mom recovers first and, without a glimmer of fear, takes my hand. “Mare is my daughter, Kilorn,” she says, fixing him with a frightening stare I didn’t know she could muster. “We all know that.”

My family murmurs in agreement, rallying to my side, but Kilorn remains unconvinced. He stares at me like I’m a stranger, like we haven’t known each other all our lives.

“Give me a knife and I’ll settle this right now,” I say, glaring back at him. “I’ll show you what color I bleed.”

This calms him a bit and he pulls back. “I just—I don’t understand.”

That makes two of us.

“I think I’m with Kilorn on this one. We know who you are, Mare, but—” Bree stumbles, searching for the right thing to say. He’s never been one for words. “How?”

I barely know what to say, but I do my best to explain. Again, I’m painfully aware of Cal’s presence, always listening, so I leave out the Guard and Julian’s findings, to lay out the last three weeks as plainly as possible. Pretending to be Silver, being betrothed to a prince, learning to control myself—it sounds preposterous, but they listen intently.

“We don’t know how or why, just that this is,” I finish, holding out my other hand. I don’t miss Tramy flinch away. “We might never know what this means.”

Mom’s hand tightens on mine in a display of support. The small comfort does wonders for me. I’m still angry, still devastatingly sad, but the need to destroy something fades. I’m gaining back some semblance of control, enough to keep myself in check.

“I think it’s a miracle,” she murmurs, forcing a smile for my sake. “We’ve always wanted better for you, and now, we’re getting it. Bree and Tramy are safe, Gisa won’t have to worry, we can live happy, and you”—her watery eyes meet mine—“you, my dear, will be someone special. What more can a mother ask?”

I wish her words were true, but I nod anyway, smiling for my mother and my family. I’m getting better at lying, and they seem to believe me. But not Kilorn. He still seethes, trying to hold back another outburst.

“What’s he like, the prince?” Mom prods. “Maven?”

Dangerous ground. I can feel Cal listening, waiting to hear what I have to say about his younger brother. What can I say? That he’s kind? That I’m beginning to like him? That I still don’t know if I can trust him? Or worse, that I can never trust anyone again? “He’s not what I expected.”

Gisa notes my discomfort and turns toward Cal. “So who’s this, your bodyguard?” she says, changing the subject with the slightest wink.

“I am,” Cal says, answering for me. He knows I don’t want to lie to my family, not more than I have to. “And I’m sorry, but we have to be going soon.”

His words are like a twisting knife, but I must obey them. “Yes.”

Mom stands with me, holding on to my hand so tightly I’m afraid it might break. “We won’t say anything, of course.”

“Not a word,” Dad agrees. My siblings nod as well, swearing to be silent.

But Kilorn’s face falls into a dark scowl. For some reason, he’s become so angry and I can’t for the life of me say why. But I’m angry too. Shade’s death still weighs on me like a terrible stone. “Kilorn?”

“Yeah, I won’t talk,” he spits. Before I can stop him, he gets up from his chair and sweeps out in a whirlwind that spins the air. The door slams behind him, shaking the walls. I’m used to Kilorn’s emotions, his rare moments of despair, but this rage is something new from him. I don’t know how to deal with it.

My sister’s touch brings me back, reminding me that this is good-bye. “This is a gift,” she whispers in my ear. “Don’t waste it.”

“You’ll come back, won’t you?” Bree says, and Gisa pulls away. For the first time since he left for war, I see fear in his eyes. “You’re a princess now, you get to make the rules.”

I wish.

Cal and I exchange glances. I can tell by the tight set of his mouth and the darkness in his eyes what my answer should be.

“I’ll try,” I whisper, my voice breaking. One more lie can’t hurt.

When we reach the edge of the Stilts, Gisa’s good-bye still haunts me. There was no blame in her eyes, even though I’ve taken everything from her. Her last words echo on the wind, drowning out everything else. Don’t waste it.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Cal blurts out. “I didn’t know he—”

“—was already dead?” Executed for desertion. Another lie. The rage rises again, and I don’t even want to control it. But what can I do about it? What can I do to avenge my brother, or even try to save the others?

Don’t waste it.

“I need to make one more stop.” Before Cal can protest, I put on my best smile. “It won’t take long at all, I promise.”

To my surprise, he nods slowly in the dark.

“A job at the Hall, that’s very prestigious.” Will chortles as I take a seat inside his wagon. The old blue candle still burns, casting shifting light around us. As I suspected, Farley is long gone.

When I’m sure the door and windows are shut, I drop my voice. “I’m not working there, Will. They—”

To my surprise, Will waves a hand at me. “Oh, I know all that. Tea?”

“Uh, no.” My words shake with shock. “How did you—?”

“The royal monkeys chose a queen this past week, of course they had to broadcast it in the Silver cities,” a voice says from behind a curtain. The figure steps out, revealing not Farley but what looks like a beanpole in human form. His head scrapes the ceiling, making him duck awkwardly. His crimson hair is long, matching the red sash draped across his body from shoulder to hip. It’s clasped with the same sun badge Farley wore in her broadcast. And I don’t miss the gun belt around his waist, full of shiny bullets and a pair of pistols. He’s Scarlet Guard too.

“You’ve been all over the Silver screens, Lady Titanos.” He says my title like a curse. “You and that Samos girl. Tell me, is she as unpleasant as she looks?”

“This is Tristan, one of Farley’s lieutenants,” Will pipes in. He turns a chiding eye on him. “Tristan, be gentle.”

“Why?” I scoff. “Evangeline Samos is a bloodthirsty jerk.”

Smiling, Tristan throws a smug look at Will.

“They aren’t all monkeys,” I add quietly, remembering Maven’s kind words earlier today.

“Are you talking about the prince you’re engaged to or the one waiting in the woods?” Will asks calmly, like he’s asking about the price of flour.

In stark contrast, Tristan erupts, vaulting out of his seat. I beat him to the door, two hands outstretched. Thankfully I keep myself in check. The last thing I need is to electrify a member of the Scarlet Guard.

“You brought a Silver here?” he hisses down at me. “The prince? Do you know what we could do if we took him in? What we could bargain for?”

Though he towers over me, I don’t back down. “You leave him alone.”

“A few weeks in the lap of luxury and your blood is as silver as theirs,” he spits, looking like he wants to kill me. “You going to electrocute me too?”

That stings, and he knows it. I drop my hands, afraid they might betray me. “I’m not protecting him, I’m protecting you, you stupid fool. Cal is a soldier born and bred, and he could burn this whole village down if he really wanted to.” Not that he would. I hope.

Tristan’s hand strays to his gun. “I’d like to see him try.”

But Will lays a wrinkled hand on his arm. The touch is enough to make the rebel deflate. “That’s enough,” he whispers. “What did you come here for, Mare? Kilorn is safe, and so are your siblings.”

I heave a breath, still staring down Tristan. He just threatened to kidnap Cal and hold him for ransom. And for whatever reason, the thought of such a thing unsettles me to my core.

“My—” One word out and I’m already struggling. “Shade was part of the Guard.” It’s not a question anymore, but a truth. Will lowers his gaze, apologetic, and Tristan even hangs his head. “They killed him for it. They killed my brother, and I have to act like it doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re dead if you don’t.”

“I know that. I’ll say whatever they want when the time comes. But—” My voice catches a little, on the edge of this new path. “I’m in the palace, the center of their world. I’m quick, I’m quiet, and I can help the cause.”

Tristan sucks in a ragged breath, pulling back to his full height. Despite his anger earlier, there’s now something like pride shining in his eyes. “You want to join up.”

“I do.”

Will clenches his jaw, his stare piercing through me. “I hope you know what you’re committing to. This isn’t just my war or Farley’s or the Scarlet Guard’s—it’s yours. Until the very end. And not to avenge your brother but to avenge us all. To fight for the ones before, and to save the ones yet to come.”

His gnarled hand reaches for mine and for the first time, I notice a tattoo around his wrist: a red band. Like the ones they make us wear. Except now he’s wearing his forever. It’s part of him, like the blood in our veins.

“Are you with us, Mare Barrow?” he says, his hand closing over mine. More war, more death, Cal said. But there’s a chance he’s wrong. There’s a chance we can change it.

My fingers tighten, holding on to Will. I can feel the weight of my action, the importance behind it.

“I’m with you.”

“We will rise,” he breathes, in unison with Tristan. I remember the words and speak with them. “Red as the dawn.”

In the flickering candlelight, our shadows look like monsters on the walls.

When I join back up with Cal at the edge of town, I feel lighter somehow, emboldened by my decision and the prospect of what’s to come. Cal walks alongside me, glancing over occasionally, but says nothing. Where I would poke and prod and forcibly pull an answer out of someone, Cal is the complete opposite. Maybe it’s a military tactic he picked up in one of his books: let the enemy come to you.

Because that’s what I am now. His enemy.

He perplexes me, just like his brother. Both of them are kind, even though they know I’m Red, even though they shouldn’t even see me at all. But Cal took me home, and Maven was good to me, wanting to help. They are strange boys.

When we enter the woods again, Cal’s demeanor changes, hardening to something serious. “I’ll have to talk with the queen about changing your schedule.”

“Why?”

“You almost exploded in there,” he says gently. “You’ll have to go into Training with us, to make sure something like that doesn’t happen again.”

Julian is training me. But even the little voice in my head knows Julian is no substitute for what Cal, Maven, and Evangeline go through. If I learned even half of what they know, who knows what help I could be to the Guard? To Shade’s memory?

“Well, if it gets me out of Protocol, I won’t say no.”

Suddenly, Cal jumps back from his cycle. His hands are on fire and an equal, blazing light burns in his eyes.

“Someone’s watching us.”

I don’t bother questioning him. Cal’s soldier’s sense is sharp, but what could threaten him here? What could he possibly be afraid of in the woods of a sleepy, poor village? A village crawling with rebels, I remind myself.

But instead of Farley or armed revolutionaries, Kilorn steps out of the leaves. I forgot how sly he is, how easily he can move through darkness.

Cal’s hands extinguish in a puff of smoke. “Oh, you.”

Kilorn tears his eyes away from me, glaring at Cal. He inclines his head in a condescending bow. “Excuse me, Your Highness.”

Instead of trying to deny it, Cal stands a little straighter, looking like the king he was born to be. He doesn’t reply and goes back to freeing his cycle from the leaves. But I feel his eyes on me, watching every second that passes between Kilorn and me.

“You’re really doing this?” Kilorn says, looking like a wounded animal. “You’re really leaving? To be one of them?”

The words sting more than a slap. This is not a choice, I want to tell him.

“You saw what happened in there, what I can do. They can help me.” Even I’m surprised at how easily the lie comes. One day I might even be able to lie to myself, to trick my mind into thinking I’m happy. “I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

He shakes his head, one hand grabbing my arm like he can pull me back into the past, where our worries were simple. “You’re supposed to be here.”

“Mare.” Cal waits patiently, leaning against the seat of the cycle, but his voice is firm, a warning.

“I have to go.” I try to push past Kilorn, to leave him behind, but he won’t let me. He’s always been stronger than me. And as much as I want to let him hold on to me, it just can’t be.

“Mare, please—”

A wave of heat pulses against us, like a strong beam of sunlight.

“Let her go,” Cal rumbles, standing over me. The heat rolls off him, almost rippling the air. The calm he fights to maintain thins, threatening to come undone.

Kilorn scoffs in his face, itching for a fight. But he’s like me; we’re thieves, we’re rats. We know when to fight and when to run. Reluctantly, he pulls back, letting his fingers trail along my arm. This might be the last time we see each other.

The air cools, but Cal doesn’t step back. I’m his brother’s betrothed—he has to be protective of me.

“You bargained for me too, to save me from conscription,” Kilorn says softly, finally understanding the price I’ve paid. “You have a bad habit of trying to save me.”

I can barely nod, and I have to pull the helmet onto my head to hide the tears welling in my eyes. Numbly, I follow Cal to the cycle and slide onto the seat behind him.

Kilorn backs away, flinching when the cycle revs up. Then he smirks at me, his features curling into an expression that used to make me want to punch him.

“I’ll tell Farley you said hello.”

The cycle growls like a beast, tearing me away from Kilorn and the Stilts and my old life. Fear curls through me like a poison, until I’m scared from head to toe. But not for myself. Not anymore. I’m scared for Kilorn, for the idiotic thing he’s going to do.

He’s going to find Farley. And he’s going to join her.