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 wants them to see her moment of glory. She wants everyone to know what she’s made of. 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 choice, 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.”
I suffer through the feast, watching but not seeing, hearing but not listening. Even the food, more food than I’ve ever seen, tastes plain in my mouth. I should be stuffing my face, enjoying what’s probably the best meal of my life, but I can’t. I can’t even speak when Maven murmurs to me, his voice calm and level in assurance.
“You’re doing fine,” he says, but I try to ignore him. Like his brother, he wears the same metal bracelet, the flame maker. It’s a firm reminder of exactly who and what Maven is—powerful, dangerous, a burner, a Silver.
Sitting at a table made of crystal, drinking bubbly gold liquid until my head spins, I feel like a traitor. What are my parents eating for dinner tonight? Do they even know where I am? Or is Mom sitting on the porch, waiting for me to come home?
Instead, I’m stuck in a room full of people who would kill me if they knew the truth. And the royals of course, who would kill me if they could, who probably will kill me one day. They’ve pulled me inside out, swapping Mare for Mareena, a thief for a crown, cotton for silk, Red for Silver. This morning I was a servant, tonight I’m a princess. How much more will change? What else will I lose?
“That’s enough of that,” Maven says, his voice swimming through the din of the feast. He pulls away my fancy goblet, replacing it with a glass of water.
“I liked that drink.” But I gulp down the water greedily, feeling my head clear.
Maven just shrugs. “You’ll thank me later.”
“Thank you,” I snap as snidely as possible. I haven’t forgotten the way he looked at me this morning, like I was something on the bottom of his shoe to be scraped off and tossed away. But now his gaze is softer, calmer, more like Cal’s.
“I’m sorry about earlier today, Mareena.”
My name is Mare. “I’m sure you are,” comes out instead.
“Really,” he says, leaning toward me. We’re seated side by side, with the rest of the royals, at the high table. “It’s just—usually younger princes get to choose. One of the few perks of not being the heir,” he adds with a terribly forced smile.
Oh. “I didn’t know that,” I reply, not really knowing what to say. I should feel sorry for him, but I can’t bring myself to feel any kind of pity for a prince.
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t. It’s not your fault.”
He looks back to the feasting hall, casting his gaze out like a fishing line. I wonder what face he’s looking for. “Is she here?” I murmur, trying to sound apologetic. “The girl you would have chosen?”
He hesitates, then shakes his head. “No, I didn’t have anyone in mind. But it was nice to have the option of a choice, you know?”
No, I don’t know. I don’t have the luxury of choice. Not now, not ever.
“Not like my brother. He grew up knowing he’d never have a say in his future. I guess now I’m getting a taste of what he feels.”
“You and your brother have everything, Prince Maven,” I whisper in a voice so fervent it might be a prayer. “You live in a palace, you have strength, you have power. You wouldn’t know hardship if it kicked you in the teeth, and believe me, it does that a lot. So excuse me if I don’t feel sorry for either of you.”
There I go, letting my mouth run away with my brain. As I recover, drinking down the rest of the water in an attempt to cool my temper, Maven just stares at me, his eyes cold. But the wall of ice recedes, melting as his gaze softens.
“You’re right, Mare. No one should feel sorry for me.” I can hear the bitterness in his voice. With a shiver, I watch him throw a glance at Cal. His older brother beams like the sun, laughing with their father. When Maven turns back around, he forces another smile but there’s a surprising sadness in his eyes.
As much as I try, I can’t ignore the sudden jolt of pity I feel for the forgotten prince. But it passes when I remember who he is, and who I am.
I’m a Red girl in a sea of Silvers and I can’t afford to feel sorry for anyone, least of all the son of a snake.