Red Queen (Red Queen 1)

Despite the decorations, the ballroom looks the same as it did more than a month ago, when the queen first pulled me into this strange world, when my name and identity were officially stripped away. They struck a blow against me here and now it’s my turn to strike back.

Blood will spill tonight.

But I can’t think of that now. I have to stand with the others, to speak with the hundred members of court lined up to trade words with royalty and one jumped-up Red liar. My eyes flit down the line, looking for the marked ones—Maven’s targets given to the Guard, the sparks to light a fire. Reynald, the colonel, Belicos—and Ptolemus. The silver-haired, dark-eyed brother of Evangeline.

He is one of the first to greet us, standing just behind his severe father, who hurries along to his daughter. When Ptolemus approaches me, I fight the urge to be sick. Never have I done anything so difficult as looking into the eyes of a dead man walking.

“My congratulations,” he says, his voice hard as rock. The hand he extends is just as firm. He doesn’t wear a military uniform, but a suit of black metal that fits together in smooth, gleaming scales. He’s a warrior, but not a soldier. Like his father before him, Ptolemus leads the Archeon city guard, protecting the capital with his own army of officers. The head of a snake, Maven called him before. Cut him down and the rest will die. His hawkish eyes are on his sister, even while he holds my hand. He lets me go in a hurry, quickly passing by Maven and Cal before embracing Evangeline in a rare display of affection. I’m surprised their stupid outfits don’t get stuck together.

If all goes to plan, he’ll never hug his sister again. Evangeline will have lost a brother, just like me. Even though I know that pain firsthand, I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for her. Especially not with the way she holds on to Cal. They look like complete opposites, he in his simple uniform while she glitters like a star in a dress of razor spikes. I want to kill her, I want to be her. But there’s nothing I can do about that. Evangeline and Cal are not my problem tonight.

As Ptolemus disappears and more people pass with cold smiles and sharp words, it gets easier to forget myself. House Iral greets us next, led by the lithe, languid movements of Ara, the Panther. To my surprise, she bows lowly to me, smiling as she does so. But there’s something strange about it, something that tells me she knows more than she lets on. She passes without a word, sparing me from another interrogation.

Sonya follows her grandmother, arm in arm with another target: Reynald Iral, her cousin. Maven told me he’s a financial adviser, a genius who keeps the army funded with taxes and trade schemes. If he dies, so does the money, and so will the war. I’m willing to trade one tax collector for that. When he takes my hand, I can’t help but notice his eyes are frozen and his hands are soft. Those hands will never touch mine again.

It’s not as easy to dismiss Colonel Macanthos when she approaches. The scar on her face stands out sharply, especially tonight when everyone seems so polished. She might not care for the Guard, but she didn’t believe the queen either. She wasn’t ready to swallow the lies being spoon-fed to the rest of us.

Her grip is strong as she shakes my hand; for once someone isn’t afraid I’ll break like glass. “Every happiness to you, Lady Mareena. I can see this one suits you.” She jerks her head toward Maven. “Not like fancy Samos,” she adds in a playful whisper. “She’ll make a sad queen, and you a happy princess, mark my words.”

“Marked,” I breathe. I manage to smile, even though the colonel’s life will soon be at an end. No matter how many kind words she says, her minutes are numbered.

When she moves on to Maven, shaking his hand and inviting him to inspect troops with her in a week or so, I can tell he’s just as affected. After she’s gone, his hand drops to mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I know he regrets naming her, but like Reynald, like Ptolemus, her death will serve a purpose. Her life will be worth it all, in the end.

The next target comes from much farther down the line, from a lower house. Belicos Lerolan has a jolly grin, chestnut hair, and sunset-colored clothes to match his house colors. Unlike the others I’ve greeted tonight, he seems warm and kind. The smile behind his eyes is as real as his handshake.

“A pleasure, Lady Mareena.” He inclines his head in greeting, polite to a fault. “I look forward to many years in your service.”

I smile for him, pretending that there will be many years to come, but the facade becomes harder to hold as the seconds drag on. When his wife appears, leading a pair of twin boys, I want to scream. Barely four years old and yowling like puppies, they clamber around their father’s legs. He smiles softly, a private smile just for them.

A diplomat, Maven called him, an ambassador to our allies in Piedmont, far to the south. Without him, our ties to that country and their army would be cut off, forcing Norta to stand alone against our Red dawn. He’s another sacrifice we must make, another name to throw away. And he’s a father. He’s a father and we’re going to kill him.

“Thank you, Belicos,” Maven says, holding out his hand for him to shake, trying to draw the Lerolans away before I break.

I try to speak, but I can only think about the father I’m about to steal from such young children. In the back of my mind, I remember Kilorn crying after his father died. He was young too.

“Excuse us a minute, wouldn’t you?” Maven’s voice sounds far away as he speaks. “Mareena’s still getting used to the excitement of court.”

Before I can glance back at the doomed father, Maven hurries me away. A few people gawk at us and I can feel Cal’s eyes following us out. I almost stumble but Maven keeps me upright as he pushes me out onto a balcony. Normally the fresh air would cheer me up, but I doubt anything can help now.

“Children.” The words rip out of me. “He’s a father.”

Maven lets me go and I slump against the balcony rail, but he doesn’t step away. In the moonlight his eyes look like ice, glowing and glaring into me. He puts one hand on either side of my shoulders, trapping me in, forcing me to listen.

“Reynald is a father, too. The Colonel has children of her own. Ptolemus is now engaged to the Haven girl. They all have people, they all have someone who will mourn them.” He forces out the words; he’s just as torn as I. “We can’t pick and choose how to help the cause, Mare. We must do what we can, whatever the cost.”

“I can’t do this to them.”