“In recent days, after much deliberation with my council and the courts of Norta, Mare Barrow of the Stilts was sentenced for her crimes against this kingdom. She stood accused of murder and terrorism, and we believed her to be the worst of the rats gnawing at our roots.” Maven glances up at her, face still and focused. How many times he’s practiced this, I don’t want to know. “Her punishment was to face a lifetime in prison, after first being interrogated by my own cousins of House Merandus.”
At the king’s bidding, a man in dark blue steps forward. He comes within inches of Mare, close enough to brush a hand against whatever part of her he chose. She freezes in place, snapping every centimeter still to keep from flinching.
“I am Samson of House Merandus, and I performed the interrogation of Mare Barrow.”
Ahead of me, Julian raises a hand to his mouth. The only indication of how affected he is.
“As a whisper, my ability allows me to bypass the usual lies and twists of speech that most prisoners rely on. So when Mare Barrow told us the truth of the Scarlet Guard and its horrors, I confess I did not believe her. I testify here, on record, that I was wrong to doubt her. What I saw in her memories was painful and chilling.”
Another round of whispers through the room, another round of hushing. The tension is still palpable, though, as well as the confusion. The Colonel straightens, arms crossed. I’m sure they’re all thinking on their sins, and what this Samson fool could be rattling on about. On one side, Farley taps her fork against her lip, eyes narrowed. She curses under her breath, but I can’t ask why.
Mare lifts her chin, looking like she might vomit on the king’s boots. I bet she wants to.
“I went to the Scarlet Guard willingly,” she says. “They told me my brother had been executed while serving in the legions, for a crime he did not commit.” Her voice cracks at the mention of Shade. Next to me, Farley’s breath quickens and her hand curls over her stomach. “They asked if I wanted vengeance for his death. I did. So I swore my allegiance to their cause, and I was placed as a servant inside the royal residence at the Hall of the Sun.
“I came to the palace as a Red spy, but even I did not know I was something else entirely. During the right of Queenstrial, I discovered I somehow possessed electrical ability. After consultation, the late King Tiberias and Queen Elara decided to take me in, to quietly study what I was and, hopefully, teach me what my ability could become. They disguised me as a Silver to protect me. They rightfully knew that a Red with an ability would be considered a freak at best, an abomination at worst, and they hid my identity to keep me safe from the prejudices of both Red and Silver. My blood status was known to a few, Maven included, as well as Ca—Prince Tiberias.
“But the Scarlet Guard discovered what I was. They threatened to expose me publicly, both to ruin the credibility of the king and to put me in danger. I was forced to serve them as a spy, to follow their orders, and to facilitate their infiltration of the king’s court.”
The next outcry from the room is louder, and not easily put down.
“This is some impressive bullshit,” Kilorn growls.
“My ultimate mission was to gain Silver allies for the Scarlet Guard. I was instructed to target Prince Tiberias, a cunning warrior and the heir to the throne of Norta. He was . . .” She hesitates, her eyes boring into ours. They shift back and forth, searching. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cal lower his head. “He was easily convinced. Once I figured out how to convince him, I also aided the Scarlet Guard in their plans for the Sun Shooting, which left eleven dead, and the bombing of the Bridge of Archeon.
“When Prince Tiberias killed his father, King Maven acted swiftly, making the only choice he thought he could,” her voice warbles. Next to her, Maven does his best to look sad at the mention of his murdered father. “He was grieving, and we were sentenced to execution in the arena. We escaped with our lives only because of the Scarlet Guard. They took us both to an island stronghold off the Nortan coast.
“I was held prisoner there, as were Prince Tiberias and, I discovered, the brother I thought I’d lost. Like me, he had an ability, and like me, he was feared by the Scarlet Guard. They intended to kill us, the ones they call newbloods. When I discovered that others like me existed, and the Scarlet Guard was hunting them down to exterminate them, I managed to escape with my brother and a few others. Prince Tiberias came with us. I know now that he intended to build himself an army to challenge his brother. After a few months, the Scarlet Guard caught up with us all, and they killed the few abilitied Reds we were able to find. My brother was murdered in the conflict, but I escaped alone.”
For once, the heat in the room isn’t coming from Cal. Everyone boils with rage. This isn’t Mare. These aren’t her words. But still I feel anger as much as the rest. How can she even let this out of her mouth? I’d spit blood before speaking Maven’s lies. But what choice does she have?
“With nowhere else to go, I turned myself in to King Maven and whatever justice he saw to give me.” Her resolve breaks piece by piece, until tears course down her cheeks. I’m ashamed to say they help her little speech more than anything else. “I stand here now a willing prisoner. I am sorry for what I’ve done, but I am ready to do whatever I can to stop the Scarlet Guard and their terrifying hope for the future. They stand for no one but themselves and the people they can control. They kill everyone else, everyone who stands in their way. Everyone who is different.”
The last words stick, refusing to come out. On the throne, Maven sits still, but his throat works a little. Emitting a noise the camera cannot hear, urging her to finish as he demands.
Mare Barrow raises her chin and glares forward. Her eyes seem black with rage. “We, the newbloods, are not fit for their dawn.”
Shouts and protests erupt through the room, hurling obscenities at Maven, at the Merandus whisper, even at the lightning girl for speaking the words.
“—vile beast of a king—”
“—would rather kill myself than say—”
“—barely a puppet—”
“—traitor, plain and simple—”