notes

[musingnotes]

“When they entered the hallway, Stephen got his first glimpse of another kid since he’d arrived. A girl. She had brown hair and looked like she might be a little older than him. It was hard to tell, though; he only got a brief look at her as a woman escorted her into the room right next to his. The door thumped closed just as he and his escort walked by, and he noticed the plaque on the front of its white surface: 31K. “Teresa hasn’t had any problem taking her new name,” the man in green said as they moved down the long, dimly lit hallway. “Of course, that might be because she wanted to forget her given one.” “What was it?” Stephen asked, his tone approaching something like politeness. He genuinely wanted to know. If the girl had really given up so easily, maybe he could hold on to her name as well—a favor to a potential friend.”

[musingnotes]

“We have working showers inside, you know.” My hands wipe at my eyes, though my tears are long lost in the rain, leaving behind only an embarrassingly runny nose and some black makeup. Thankfully, my silver powder holds. It’s made of stronger stuff than I am. “First rain of the season,” I manage, forcing myself to sound normal. “Had to see it for myself.” “Right,” he says, moving to stand next to me. I turn my head, hoping to hide my face for just a little bit longer. “I understand, you know.” Do you, Prince? Do you understand what it’s like to be taken away from everything you love, forced to be something else? To lie every minute of every day for the rest of your life? To know there’s something wrong with you? I don’t have the strength to deal with his knowing smiles. “You can stop pretending to know anything about me or my feelings.” His expression sours at my tone, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “You think I don’t know how difficult it is to be here? With these people?” He casts a glance over his shoulder like he’s worried someone might hear. But there’s no one listening except the rain and thunder. “I can’t say what I want, do what I want—with my mother around I can barely even think what I want. And my brother—!” “What about your brother?”  The words stick in his mouth. He doesn’t want to say them, but he feels them all the same. “He’s strong, he’s talented, he’s powerful—and I’m his shadow. The shadow of the flame.” Slowly, he exhales, and I realize the air around us is strangely hot. “Sorry,” he adds, taking a step away, letting the air cool. Before my eyes, he melts back into the Silver prince more suited to banquets and dress uniforms. “I shouldn’t have said that.” “It’s fine,” I murmur. “It’s nice to hear that I’m not completely alone in feeling out of place.” “That’s something you should know about us Silvers. We’re always alone. In here, and here,” he says, pointing between his head and his heart. “It keeps you strong.” Lightning cracks overhead, illuminating his blue eyes until they seem to glow. “That’s just stupid,” I tell him, and he chuckles darkly. “You better hide that heart of yours, Lady Titanos. It won’t lead you anywhere you want to go.” The words make me shiver. Finally I remember the rain and the mess I must look like. “I should get back to my lessons,” I mutter, fully intending to leave him on the balcony. Instead, he catches my arm. “I think I can help you with your problem.” I quirk an eyebrow at him. “What problem?” “You don’t seem like the type of girl to weep at the drop of a hat. You’re homesick.” He holds up a hand before I can protest. “I can fix that.” 

[musingnotes]

“You produced electrical energy.” Now I’m really confused. “Right. That’s my ability, Julian.” “No, I thought your ability was the power to manipulate, not create,” he says, his voice dropping gravely. “No one can create, Mare.” “But that doesn’t make sense. The nymphs—” “Manipulate water that already exists. They can’t use what isn’t there.” “Well, what about Cal? Maven? I don’t see many raging infernos around for them to play with.” Julian smiles, shaking his head. “You’ve seen their bracelets, yes?” “They always wear them.” “The bracelets make sparks, little tiny flames for the boys to control. Without something to start the fire, they are powerless. All elementals are the same, manipulating metal or water or plant life that already exists. They’re only as strong as their surroundings. Not like you, Mare.” Not like me. I’m not like anyone. “So what does this mean?” “I’m not quite sure. You are something else entirely. Not Red, not Silver. Something else. Something more.” “Something different.” I expected Julian’s tests to bring me closer to some kind of answer, but instead they only raise more questions. “What am I, Julian? What’s wrong with me?” Suddenly it’s very difficult to breathe, and my eyes swim. I have to blink back hot tears, trying to hide them from Julian. It’s all catching up to me, I think. Lessons, Protocol, this place where I can’t trust anyone, where I’m not even myself. It’s suffocating. I want to scream, but I know I can’t. 

[musingnotes]

Let go. Let yourself go, the voice in my head whispers. My eyes slide closed as I focus, letting my thoughts fall away so that my mind can reach out, feeling for the electricity it craves to touch. The ripple of energy, alive beneath my skin, moves over me again until it sings in every muscle and nerve. That’s usually where it stops, just on the edge of feeling, but not this time. Instead of trying to hold on, to push myself into this force, I let go. And I fall into what I can’t explain, into a sensation that is everything and nothing, light and dark, hot and cold, alive and dead. Soon the power is the only thing in my head, blotting out all my ghosts and memories. Even Julian and the books cease to exist. My mind is clear, a black void humming with force. Now when I push at the sensation, it doesn’t disappear and it moves within me, from my eyes to the tips of my fingers. To my left, Julian gasps aloud. My eyes open to see purple-white sparks jumping from the contraption to my fingers, like electricity between wires. For once, Julian has nothing to say. And neither do I. I don’t want to move, afraid that any small change might make the lightning disappear. But it doesn’t fade. It remains, jumping and twisting in my hand like a kitten with a ball of yarn. It seems just as harmless, but I remember what I almost did to Evangeline. This power can destroy if I let it. “Try to move it,” Julian breathes, watching me with wide, excited eyes. Something tells me this lightning will obey my wishes. It’s part of me, a piece of my soul alive in the world. My fist clenches into a tight ball, and the sparks react to my straining muscles, becoming larger and brighter and faster. They eat away at the sleeve of my shirt, burning through the fabric in seconds. Like a child throwing a ball, I whip my arm toward the stone shelves, releasing my fist at the last moment. The lightning flies through the air in a circle of bright sparks, colliding with the bookshelves.  The resulting boom makes me scream and fall back into a stack of books. As I tumble to the ground, heart racing in my chest, the solid stone bookshelf collapses on itself in a cloud of thick dust. Sparks flash over the rubble for a moment before disappearing, leaving nothing but ruins behind. “Sorry about the shelf,” I say from beneath a pile of fallen books. My sleeve still smokes in a ruin of thread, but it’s nothing compared to the buzz in my hand. My nerves sing, tingling with power—that felt good. Julian’s shadow moves through the cloudy air, a laugh resounding deep in his chest as he examines my handiwork. His white grin glows through the dust. “We’re going to need a bigger classroom.” 

[musingnotes]

Osanos, nymphs, blue and green. Welle, greenwardens, green and gold. Lerolan, oblivions, orange and red. Rhambos and Tyros and Nornus and Iral and many more. How anyone keeps track of this, I’ll never know. As usual, I’m seated next to Evangeline. I’m painfully aware of the many metal utensils on the table, all lethal weapons in Evangeline’s cruel hand. Every time she lifts her knife to cut her food, my body tenses, waiting for the blow. Elara knows what I’m thinking, as usual, but carries on through her meal with a smile. That might be worse than Evangeline’s torture, to know she takes pleasure in watching our silent war. “And how do you like the Hall of the Sun, Lady Titanos?” the girl across from me asks—Atara, House Viper, green and black. The animos who killed the doves. “I assume it’s no comparison to the—the village you lived in before.” She says the word village like a curse, and I don’t miss her smirk. The other women laugh with her, a few whispering in scandalized voices. It takes me a minute to respond as I try to keep my blood from boiling. “The Hall and Summerton are very different from what I’m used to,” I force out. “Obviously,” another woman says, leaning forward to join the conversation. A Welle, judging by her green-and-gold tunic. “I took a tour of the Capital Valley once, and I must say, the Red villages are simply deplorable. They don’t even have proper roads.” We can barely feed ourselves, let alone pave streets. My jaw tightens until I think my teeth might shatter. I try to smile but instead end up grimacing as the other women voice their agreement. “And the Reds, well, I suppose it’s the best they can do with what they have,” the Welle continues, wrinkling her nose at the thought. “They’re suited to such lives.” “It’s not our fault they were born to serve,” a brown-robed Rhambos says airily, as if she’s talking about the weather or the food. “It’s simply nature.” Anger curls through me, but one glance from the queen tells me I cannot act on it. Instead, I must do my duty. I must lie. “It is indeed,” I hear myself say. Under the table, my hands clench, and I think my heart might be breaking. All over the table the women listen attentively. Many smile, more nod as I reassert their terrible beliefs about my people. Their faces make me want to scream. “Of course,” I continue, unable to stop myself. “Being forced to live such lives, with no respite, no reprieve, and no escape, would make servants of anyone.” The few smiles fade, twitching into bewilderment. “Lady Titanos is to have the best tutors and best help to make sure she adjusts properly,” Elara says quickly, cutting me off. “She’s already begun with Lady Blonos.” The women mutter appreciatively while the girls exchange eye rolls. It’s enough time to recover, to reclaim the self-control I need to survive the meal. “What does His Royal Highness intend to do about the rebels?” a woman asks, her gruff voice sending a shock of silence over lunch, drawing focus away from me. Every eye at the table turns to the speaker, a woman in military uniform. A few other ladies wear uniforms as well, but hers shines with the most medals and ribbons. The ugly scar down her freckled face says she may actually have earned them. Here in a palace, it’s easy to forget there’s a war going on, but the haunted look in her eye says she will not, she cannot, forget. Queen Elara puts down her spoon with practiced grace and an equally practiced smile. “Colonel Macanthos, I would hardly call them rebels—” “And that’s only the attack they’ve claimed,” the colonel fires back, cutting off the queen. “What about the explosion in Harbor Bay, or the airfield in Delphie for that matter? Three airjets destroyed, and two more stolen from one of our own bases!” My eyes widen, and I can’t help but gasp with a few ladies. More attacks? But while the others look frightened, hands pressed to their mouths, I have to fight the urge to smile. Farley has been busy.  “Are you an engineer, Colonel?” Elara’s voice is sharp, cold, and final. She doesn’t give Macanthos a chance to shake her head. “Then you wouldn’t understand how a gas leak in the Bay was at fault for the explosion. And remind me, do you command aerial troops? Oh no, I’m so sorry, your specialty lies with ground forces. The airfield incident was a training exercise overseen by Lord General Laris himself. He has personally assured His Highness of the utmost safety of the Delphie base.” In a fair fight, Macanthos could probably tear Elara apart with her bare hands. But instead, Elara tore the colonel apart with nothing but words. And she’s not even finished. Julian’s words echo in my head—words can lie. “Their goal is to harm innocent civilians, Silver and Red, to incite fear and hysteria. They are small, contained, and cowardly, hiding from my husband’s justice. To call every mishap and misunderstanding in this kingdom the work of such evil only furthers their efforts to terrorize the rest of us. Do not give these monsters the satisfaction of that.”  A few women at the table clap and nod, agreeing with the queen’s sweeping lie. Evangeline joins in, and the action quickly spreads, until only the colonel and I remain silent. I can tell she doesn’t believe anything the queen says, but there’s no way to call the queen a liar. Not here, not in her arena. As much as I want to stay still, I know I can’t. I’m Mareena, not Mare, and I have to support my queen and her wretched words. My hands come together, clapping for Elara’s lie, as the scolded colonel bows her head. 

[musingnotes]

“So, you’re not going to turn me into some science experiment for the queen?” I ask, still wary. Instead of looking offended, Julian laughs aloud. “My dear, the queen would like nothing more than for you to disappear. Discovering what you are, helping you understand it, is the last thing she wants.” “But you’re going to do it anyway?” Something flashes in his eyes, something like anger. “The queen’s reach is not so long as she wants you to think. I want to know what you are, and I’m sure you do too.” As afraid as I was a moment ago, that’s how intrigued I am now. “I do.” “That’s what I thought,” he says, smiling at me over a stack of books. “I’m sorry to say I must also do what was asked, to prepare you for the day you step forward.” My face falls, remembering what Cal explained in the throne room. You are their champion. A Silver raised Red. “They want to use me to stop a rebellion. Somehow.” “Yes, my dear brother-in-law and his queen believe you can do so, if used appropriately.” Bitterness drips from his every word. 

[musingnotes]

Halfway to Lessons, I begin to feel calm again. I addressed everyone properly and only spoke as much as I had to, as instructed. Evangeline talked enough for both of us, regaling the women with her “undying love” for Cal and the honor she felt at being chosen. I thought the Queenstrial girls would band together and kill her, but they didn’t, to my annoyance. Only the Iral grandmother and Sonya seemed to even care that I was there, though they didn’t push their interrogation any further. But they certainly will. When Maven appears around the corner, I’m so proud of my survival at lunch that I’m not even annoyed by his presence. In fact, I feel strangely relieved and let a bit of my cold act drop. He grins, coming closer with a few long strides. “Still alive?” he asks. Compared to the Irals, he’s like a friendly puppy. I can’t help but smile. “You should send Lady Iral back to the Lakelanders. She’ll make them surrender in a week.” 

[musingnotes]

“Before I have a chance to take a breath, a pair of girls steps in front of me. Their smiles are fake and cold, just like their eyes. Judging by the colors of their gowns (dark blue and red on one, solid black on the other), they belong to House Iral and House Haven. Silks and shadows, I remember, thinking back to Blonos’s lessons on abilities. “Lady Mareena,” they say in unison, bowing stiffly. I do the same, inclining my head the way Lady Blonos showed me. “I’m Sonya of House Iral,” the first says, tossing her head proudly. Her movements are lithe and catlike. Silks are quick and quiet, perfectly balanced and agile. “And I’m Elane of House Haven,” the other adds, her voice barely a whisper. While the Iral girl is dark, with deeply tanned skin and black hair, Elane is pale, with glossy red locks. The dancing sunlight speckles her skin in a perfect halo, making her look flawless. Shadow, bender of light. “We wanted to welcome you.” But their pointed smiles and narrowed eyes don’t look welcoming at all. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” I clear my throat, trying to sound normal, and the girls don’t miss the action, exchanging glances. “You also participated in Queenstrial?” I say quickly, hoping to distract them from my terrible social graces. This only seems to incense them. Sonya crosses her arms, showing sharp nails the color of iron. “We did. Obviously we were not so lucky as you or Evangeline.” “Sorry—,” comes out before I can stop it. Mareena would not apologize. “I mean, you know I had no intention of—” “Your intentions remain to be seen,” Sonya purrs, looking more like a cat with every passing second. When she turns, snapping her fingers in a way that makes her nails slice along each other, I flinch. “Grandmother, come meet Lady Mareena.” Grandmother. I almost breathe a sigh of relief, expecting a kindly old woman to come waddling over and save me from these biting girls. But I’m sorely mistaken. Instead of a wizened crone, I’m met with a formidable woman made of steel and shadow. Like Sonya, she has coffee-colored skin and black hair, though hers is shot with streaks of white. Despite her age, her brown eyes spark with life. “Lady Mareena, this is my grandmother Lady Ara, the head of House Iral.” Sonya explains with a pointed smirk. The older woman eyes me, and her gaze is worse than any camera, piercing straight through me. “Perhaps you know her as the Panther?” “The Panther? I don’t—” But Sonya keeps talking, enjoying watching me squirm. “Many years ago, when the war slowed, intelligence agents became more important than soldiers. The Panther was the greatest of them all.” A spy. I’m standing in front of a spy. I force myself to smile, if only to try and hide my fear. Sweat breaks out on my palms, and I hope I don’t have to shake any hands. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” Ara simply nods. “I knew your father, Mareena. And your mother.” “I miss them terribly,” I reply, saying the words to placate her. But the Panther looks perplexed, tipping her head to the side. For a second, I can see thousands of secrets, hard-won in the shadows of war, reflecting in her eyes. “You remember them?” she asks, prodding at my lie. My voice catches, but I have to keep talking, keep lying. “I don’t, but I miss having parents.” Mom and Dad flash in my mind, but I push them away. My Red past is the last thing I should think about. “I wish they were here to help me understand all this.” “Hmm,” she says, surveying me again. Her suspicion makes me want to leap off the balcony. “Your father had blue eyes, as did your mother.” And my eyes are brown. “I am different in many ways, most I don’t even understand yet,” is all I can manage to say, hoping that explanation will be enough. For once, the queen’s voice is my savior. “Shall we sit, ladies?” she says, echoing over the crowd. It’s enough to pull me away from Ara, Sonya, and the quiet Elane, to a seat where I can breathe a little sigh to myself.

[musingnotes]

“You should eat quickly,” the queen says without looking up. “Lady Blonos does not tolerate tardiness.” Across from me, Evangeline laughs into her hand. “You’re still taking Protocol?” “You mean you aren’t?” My heart leaps at the prospect of not having to sit through classes with her. “Excellent.” Evangeline scoffs at me, brushing off the insult. “Only children take Protocol.” To my surprise, the queen takes my side. “Lady Mareena has grown up under terrible circumstances. She knows nothing of our ways, of the expectations she must fulfill now. Surely you understand her needs, Evangeline?” The reprimand is calm, quiet, and threatening. Evangeline’s smile drops, and she nods, not daring to meet the queen’s eye. “Luncheon today will be on the Glass Terrace, with the ladies of Queenstrial and their mothers. Try not to gloat,” Elara adds, though I never would. Evangeline, on the other hand, blushes white. “They’re still here?” I hear myself ask. “Even after—not being chosen?” Elara nods. “Our guests will be here for the coming weeks, to properly honor the prince and his betrothed. They won’t leave until after the Parting Ball.” My heart plummets in my chest until it bounces around my toes. So more nights like last night, with the pressing crowd and a thousand eyes. They’ll ask questions too, questions I’ll have to answer. “Lovely.” “And after the ball, we leave with them,” Elara continues, twisting the knife. “To return to the capital.” The capital. Archeon. I know the royal family goes back to Whitefire Palace at the end of every summer, and now I’m going too. I’ll have to leave, and this world I can’t understand will become my only reality. I’ll never be able to go home. You knew this, I tell myself, you agreed to this. But it doesn’t hurt any less. 

[musingnotes]

“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. Finally he turns, his eyes like hot coals. “I didn’t pick anything. Everyone knows that.” “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, 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. “Sorry,” I mumble, shaking my head. “Just thinking.” He nods, looking almost apologetic. “About your family?” The words hit me like a slap. They hadn’t even crossed my mind in the last few hours, and it sickens me. A few hours of silk and royalty have already changed me. “I’ve sent a conscript release for your brothers and your friend, and an officer to your house, to tell your parents where you are,” Cal continues, thinking this might calm me. “We can’t tell them everything though.” I can only imagine how that went. Oh, hello. Your daughter is a Silver now, and she’s going to marry a prince. You’ll never see her again, but we’ll send you some money to help out. Even trade, don’t you think?” “They know you work for us and have to live here, but they still think you’re a servant. For now, at least. When your life becomes more public, we’ll figure out how to deal with them.” “Can I write to them at least?” Shade’s letters were always a bright spot in our dark days. Maybe mine will be the same. But Cal shakes his head. “I’m sorry, that’s just not possible.” “I didn’t think so.” He ushers me into my room, which quickly sparkles to life. Motion-activated lights, I think. Like back in the hallway, my senses sharpen and everything electrical becomes a burning feeling in my mind. Immediately I know there are no less than four cameras in my room and that makes me squirm. “It’s for your own protection. If anyone were to intercept the letters, to find out about you—” “Are the cameras in here for my own protection?” I ask, gesturing to the walls. The cameras stab into my skin, watching every inch of me. It’s maddening, and after a day like today, I don’t know how much more I can take. “I’m locked in this nightmare palace, surrounded by walls and guards and people who will tear me to shreds, and I can’t even get a moment’s peace in my own room.” Instead of snapping back at me, Cal looks bewildered. His eyes blaze around. The walls are bare, but he must be able to sense them too. How can anyone not feel the eyes pressing down? “Mare, there aren’t any cameras in here.” I wave a hand at him, dismissive. The electrical hum still breaks against my skin. “Don’t be stupid. I can feel them.” Now he truly looks lost. “Feel them? What do you mean?” “I—” But the words die in my throat as I realize: he doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t even know what I’m saying. How can I explain this to him, if he doesn’t already know? How can I tell him I feel the energy in the air like a pulse, like another part of me? Like another sense? Would he even understand? Would anyone? “Is that—not normal?” Something flickers in his eyes as he hesitates, trying to find the words to tell me I’m different. Even among the Silvers, I’m something else. “Not to my knowledge,” he finally says. My voice sounds small, even to me. “I don’t think anything about me is normal anymore.” He opens his mouth to speak but thinks better of it. There’s nothing he can say to make me feel better. There’s nothing he can do for me at all. In the fairy tales, the poor girl smiles when she becomes a princess. Right now, I don’t know if I’ll ever smile again. 

[musingnotes]

“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. 

[musingnotes]

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 basks in her moment of glory. 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 choices, 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.” 

[musingnotes]

“She grabs me by the arm, pulling me to her as we walk. Her lips don’t move, but I hear her voice all the same, echoing in my head. This time it doesn’t hurt or make me nauseous, but the sensation still feels sick and wrong. I want to scream, to claw her out of my head. But there’s nothing I can do except hate her. The Titanos family were oblivions, she says, her voice all around. They could explode things with a touch, like the Lerolan girl did at Queenstrial. When I try to remember the girl, Elara projects an image of her directly into my brain. It flashes, barely there, but still I see a young girl in orange blow up rock and sand like military bombs. Your mother, Nora Nolle, was a storm like the rest of House Nolle. Storms control the weather, to an extent. It’s not common, but their union resulted in your unique abilities to control electricity. Say no more, if anyone asks. What do you really want with me? Even in my head, my voice quivers. Her laughter bounces inside my skull, the only answer I’ll get. Remember the person you’re supposed to be, and remember well, she continues, ignoring my question. You are pretending to be raised Red, but you’re Silver by blood. You are now Red in the head, Silver in the heart. A shiver of fear shoots through me. From now until the end of your days, you must lie. Your life depends on it, little lightning girl. 

[musingnotes]

i was born at the war front. My parents were killed in an attack on the camp. A Red soldier saved me from the rubble and brought me home to a wife who always wanted a daughter. They raised me in the village called the Stilts, and I was ignorant of my birthright or my ability until this morning. And now I am returned to my rightful place. The thought makes me sick. My rightful place is at home, with my parents and Gisa and Kilorn. Not here. 

[musingnotes]

Lady Mareena Titanos, born to Lady Nora Nolle Titanos and Lord Ethan Titanos, general of the Iron Legion. Heiress to House Titanos. Mareena Titanos. Titanos. My new name echoes in my head as the Red maids prepare me for the coming onslaught. The three girls work quickly and efficiently, never speaking to one another. They don’t ask me questions either, even though they must want to. Say nothing, I remember. They’re not allowed to speak to me, and they certainly aren’t allowed to talk about me to anyone else. Even the strange things, the Red things, I’m sure they see. Over many agonizing minutes, they try to make me suitable, bathing me, styling me, painting me into the silly thing I’m supposed to be. The makeup is the worst, especially the thick white paste applied to my skin. They go through three pots of it, covering my face, neck, collarbone, and arms with the glittery wet powder. In the mirror, it looks like the warmth is leeched from me, as if the powder has covered the heat in my skin. With a gasp, I realize it’s supposed to hide my natural flush, the red bloom in my skin, the red blood. I’m pretending to be Silver, and when they finish painting my face, I actually look the part. With my newly pale skin and darkened eyes and lips, I look cold, cruel, a living razor. I look Silver. I look beautiful. And I hate it. How long will this last? Betrothed to a prince. Even in my head, it sounds crazy. Because it is. No Silver in their right mind would marry you, let alone a prince of Norta. Not to calm rebellion, not to hide your identity, not for anything. Then why do this? When the maids pinch and pull me into a gown, I feel like a corpse being dressed for her funeral. I know it’s not far from the truth. Red girls do not marry Silver princes. I will never wear a crown or sit on a throne. Something will happen, an accident maybe. A lie will raise me up, and one day another lie will bring me down. The dress is a dark shade of purple spattered with silver, made of silk and sheer lace. All houses have a color, I remember, thinking back to the rainbow of families. The colors of Titanos, my name, must be purple and silver. When one of the maids reaches for my earrings, trying to take away the last bit of my old life, a surge of fear pulses through me. “Don’t touch them!” The girl jumps back, blinking quickly, and the others freeze at my outburst. “Sorry, I—” A Silver wouldn’t apologize. I clear my throat, collecting myself. “Leave the earrings.” My voice sounds strong, hard—regal. “You can change everything else, but leave the earrings.” The three cheap pieces of metal, each one a brother, aren’t going anywhere. “The color suits you.” I whirl around to see the maids stooped in identical bows. And standing over them: Cal. Suddenly, I’m very glad the makeup covers the blush spreading over me. He gestures quickly, his hand moving in a brushing motion, and the maids scurry from the room like mice fleeing from a cat. “I’m sort of new to this royal thing, but I’m not sure you’re supposed to be here. In my room,” I say, forcing as much disdain into my voice as I can muster. After all, it’s his fault I’m in this forsaken mess. He takes a few steps toward me, and on instinct, I take a step back. My feet catch on the hem of my dress, making me choose between not moving or falling over. I don’t know which is less desirable. “I came to apologize, something I can’t really do with an audience.” He stops short, noting my discomfort. A muscle twitches in his cheek as he looks me over, probably remembering the hopeless girl who tried to pickpocket him only last night. I look nothing like her now. “I’m sorry for getting you into this, Mare.” “Mareena.” The name even tastes wrong. “That’s my name, remember?” “Then it’s a good thing Mare’s a suitable nickname.” “I don’t think anything about me is suitable.” Cal’s eyes rake over me, and my skin burns under his gaze. “How do you like Lucas?” he finally says, taking an obliging step back. The Samos guard, the first decent Silver I’ve met here. “He’s all right, I suppose.” Perhaps the queen will take him away if I reveal how gentle the officer was to me. “Lucas is a good man. His family thinks him weak for his kindness,” he adds, eyes darkening a little. As if he knows the feeling. “But he’ll serve you well, and fairly. I’ll make sure of it.” How thoughtful. He’s given me a kind jailer. But I bite my tongue. It won’t do any good to snap at his mercy. “Thank you, Your Highness.” The spark returns to his eyes, and a smirk to his lips. “You know my name is Cal.” “And you know my name, don’t you?” I tell him bitterly. “You know what I come from.” He barely nods, as if ashamed. “You have to take care of them.” My family. Their faces swim before my eyes, already so far away. “All of them, for as long as you can.” “Of course I will.” He takes a step toward me, closing the gap between us. “I’m sorry,” he says again. The words resound in my head, echoing off a memory. The wall of fire. The choking smoke. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It was Cal who caught me earlier, who kept me from escaping this awful place. “Are you sorry for stopping my one chance of escape?” “You mean if you got past the Sentinels, Security, the walls, the woods, back to your village to wait until the queen herself hunted you down?” he replies, taking my accusations in stride. “Stopping you was the best thing for you and your family.” “I could’ve gotten away. You don’t know me.” “I know the queen would tear the world apart looking for the little lightning girl.” “Don’t call me that.” The nickname stings more than the fake name I’m still getting used to. Little lightning girl. “That’s what your mother calls me.” He laughs bitterly. “She’s not my mother. She’s Maven’s, not mine.” Just by the set of his jaw, I know not to press the issue.

“Oh,” is all I can say, my voice very small. It fades quickly, a faint echo against the vaulted ceiling. I crane my neck, looking around at my new room for the first time since I came in. It’s finer than anything I’ve ever seen—marble and glass, silk and feathers. The light has changed, shifting to the orange color of dusk. Night is coming. And with it, the rest of my life. “I woke up this morning as one person,” I mutter, more to myself than to him, “and now I’m supposed to be someone else entirely.” “You can do this.” I feel him take a step toward me, his heat filling the room in a way that makes my skin prickle. But I don’t look up. I won’t. “How do you know?” “Because you must.” He bites his lip, eyes shifting over me. “As beautiful as this world is, it’s just as dangerous. People who are not useful, people who make mistakes, they can be removed. You can be removed.”  

[musingnotes]

The king sits before me, the queen standing on his left, the princes on his right. I refuse to look at Cal, but I know he must be gawking at me. I keep my gaze on my new boots, focusing on my toes so I don’t give over to the fear turning my body to lead. “You will kneel,” the queen murmurs, her voice soft as velvet. I should kneel, but my pride won’t let me. Even here, in front of Silvers, in front of the king, my knees do not bend. “I will not,” I say, finding the strength to look up. “Do you enjoy your cell, girl?” Tiberias says, his kingly voice filling the room. The threat in his words is plain as day, but still I stand. He cocks his head, staring at me like I’m an experiment to puzzle over. “What do you want with me?” I manage to force out. The queen leans down next to him. “I told you, she’s Red through and through—” But the king waves her off like he would a fly. She purses her lips and draws back, hands clasped tightly together. Serves her right. “What I want concerning you is impossible,” Tiberias snaps. His glare smolders, like he’s trying to burn me up. I remember the queen’s words. “Well, I’m not sorry you can’t kill me.” The king chuckles. “They didn’t say you were quick.” Relief floods through me. Death does not wait for me here. Not yet. The king throws down a stack of papers, all of them covered in writing. The top sheet has the usual information, including my name, birth date, parents, and the little brown smear that is my blood. My picture is there too, the one on my identification card. I stare down at myself, into bored eyes sick of waiting in line to have my picture taken. How I wish I could jump into the photo, into the girl whose only problems were conscription and a hungry belly. “Mare Molly Barrow, born November seventeenth, 302 of the New Era, to Daniel and Ruth Barrow,” Tiberias recites from memory, laying my life bare. “You have no occupation and are scheduled for conscription on your next birthday. You attend school sparingly, your academic test scores are low, and you have a list of offenses that would land you in prison in most cities. Thievery, smuggling, resisting arrest, to name but a few. All together you are poor, rude, immoral, unintelligent, impoverished, bitter, stubborn, and a blight upon your village and my kingdom.” The shock of his blunt words takes a moment to sink in, but when it does, I don’t argue. He’s entirely right. “And yet,” he continues, rising to his feet. This close, I can see his crown is deathly sharp. The points can kill. “You are also something else. Something I cannot fathom. You are Red and Silver both, a peculiarity with deadly consequences you cannot understand. So what am I to do with you?” Is he asking me? “You could let me go. I wouldn’t say a word.” The queen’s sharp laughter cuts me off. “And what about the High Houses? Will they keep silent as well? Will they forget the little lightning girl in a red uniform?” No. No one will. “You know my advice, Tiberias,” the queen adds, her eyes on the king. “And it will solve both our problems.” It must be bad advice, bad for me, because Cal clenches a fist. The movement draws my eye, and I finally look at him fully. He remains still, stoic and quiet, as I’m sure he’s been trained to do, but fire burns behind his eyes. For a moment, he meets my gaze, but I look away before I can call out and ask him to save me. “Yes, Elara,” the king says, nodding at his wife. “We cannot kill you, Mare Barrow.” Not yet hangs in the air. “So we are going to hide you in plain sight where we can watch you, protect you, and attempt to understand you.” The way his eyes gleam makes me feel like a meal about to be devoured. “Father!” The word bursts from Cal, but his brother—the paler, leaner prince—grabs him by the arm, holding him back from protesting further. He has a calming effect, and Cal steps back in line. Tiberias goes on, ignoring his son. “You are no longer Mare Barrow, a Red daughter of the Stilts.” “Then who am I?” I ask, my voice shaking with dread, thinking of all the awful things they can do to me. “Your father was Ethan Titanos, general of the Iron Legion, killed when you were an infant. A soldier, a Red man, took you for his own and raised you in the dirt, never telling you your true parentage. You grew up believing you were nothing, and now, thanks to chance, you are made whole again. You are Silver, a lady of a lost High House, a noble with great power, and one day, a princess of Norta.” Try as I might, I can’t hold back a surprised yelp. “A Silver—a princess?” My eyes betray me, flying to Cal. A princess must marry a prince. “You will marry my son Maven, and you’ll do it without putting a toe out of line.” I swear I hear my jaw hit the floor. A wretched, embarrassing sound escapes my mouth as I search for something to say, but I’m honestly speechless. In front of me, the younger prince looks equally confused, sputtering just as loudly as I want to. This time, it’s Cal’s turn to restrain him, though his eyes are on me. The young prince manages to find his voice. “I don’t understand,” he blurts out, shrugging off Cal. He takes quick steps toward his father. “She’s—why—?” Usually I’d be offended, but I have to agree with the prince’s reservations. “Quiet,” his mother snaps. “You will obey.” He glares at her, every inch the young son rebelling against his parents. But his mother hardens, and the prince backs down, knowing her wrath and power as well as I do. My voice is faint, barely audible. “This seems a bit . . . much.” There’s simply no other way to describe it. “You don’t want to make me a lady, much less a princess.” 

[musingnotes]

“Magnetron, yes,” he says with a waggle of his fingers. “And in case you were wondering, the girl you nearly fried is a cousin.” I almost choke on the air in my lungs, not knowing how to respond. “I’m sorry.” It sounds like a question. “Be sorry you missed her,” he replies without a hint of jest. “Evangeline is a bitch.” “Family trait?” My mouth moves faster than my brain, and I gasp, realizing what I’ve just said. He doesn’t strike me for speaking out of turn, though he has every right to. Instead, the officer’s face twitches into the shadow of a smile. “I guess you’ll find out,” he says, black eyes soft. “I’m Lucas Samos. Follow me.”