King's Cage

The dress covers her from just below her neck to wrist and ankle. Probably to hide bruises, scars, and the brand she bears from the king. It’s not a dress at all, but a costume.

I’m not the only one to suck in a breath of fear when she reaches the king. He takes her hand in his, and she hesitates to close her fingers. Only a fraction of a second, but enough to cement what we already know. This is not her choice. Or if it is, the alternative was much, much worse.

A current of heat ripples on the air. Kilorn does his best to sidle away from Cal without drawing attention, bumping into me. I make room as best I can. No one wants to be too close to the fire prince if things go south.

Maven does not have to gesture. Mare knows him and his schemes well enough to understand what he wants from her. The camera image pulls back as she moves to the right of his throne. What we see now is a display of ultimate strength. Evangeline Samos, the king’s betrothed, a future queen in power and appearance, on one side, with the lightning girl on the other. Silver and Red.

Other nobles, the greatest of the High Houses, stand in assembly on the dais. Names and faces I don’t know, but I’m sure many here do. Generals, diplomats, warriors, advisers. Every one of them dedicated to our complete annihilation.

The king takes his throne again, slowly, eyes locked deep into the camera, and so into us.

“Before I say anything else, before I begin this speech”—he gestures, confident and almost charming—“I want to thank the fighting men and women, Silver and Red, who serve to protect our borders, who are currently defending us from enemies outside this nation, and the enemies within. To the soldiers of Corvium, the loyal warriors resisting the constant and deplorable terrorist attacks of the Scarlet Guard, I salute you, and I am with you.”

“Liar,” someone snarls in the room, but they’re quickly hushed.

On-screen, Mare looks like she shares the sentiment. She does her best not to twitch or let her face betray her emotions. It works. Almost. A flush creeps up her neck, partially hidden by her high collar. Not high enough. Maven would have to put a bag over her head to hide her feelings.

“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.