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They first met when they were fifteen.
It was the age between being a dreamer and the dreams getting completely taken, when you’ve lived enough to be angry about the way the world was but not enough to accept it quietly.
Mare had been thieving for a while now. She was quick and nimble, and while she had been caught a couple times, she learned enough from them to prevent the same mistakes from happening.
WIthout meaning to, she had wandered too far from home, into a suburban area where taverns lined the street. There was a crowd there watching a group of men gamble, making bets on who would win. It was a perfect cover for a thief.
As she walked closer, she saw exactly what the men were betting on—who would win the Feats on First Friday. Even at that age, she knew enough to hate those events. To hate how, after the Silvers had taken everything from her people, they had to find any way they could to reinforce that they were better and stronger, that they deserved all the luxury and worship they possessed. Anger sparked in her chest as she accidentally bumped into the people around her, not watching where she was going.
“Ouch.” Someone in front of Mare turned. He was in a simple black outfit, fancier than her street clothing but not as elaborate as the Silvers. His hood covered most of his face, but his voice was distinctly young, someone her age. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That. I felt… electricity.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He shrugged. “Why are you here?”
Mare crossed her arms. “I can be wherever I want.”
“No one else our age is here.” Obviously.
“So why are you here?”
“I needed to get away. You?”
“I guess me too.” She huffed, turning away from the people making bets for First Friday.
“Not a fan of the Feats?”
“If only you knew.” Mare started off back towards the edge of the crowd. There was no use making herself angrier.
To her surprise, the boy followed. “Wait. I don’t like them either.”
“If you want to start a conversation, maybe take off your hood so I can see your face.” She pushed against the people crowding her in, but they shoved back more forcefully, hoping to get a better view.
He cut off in front of her and pushed a path through the crowd, gesturing for her to follow. They sat down at a bench outside an inn on the opposite side of the street.
“Why are you following me?” Mare asked.
He took off his hood as he leaned against the back of the bench. His blue eyes sparkled. “If I’m not incorrect, you were following me.”
Mare didn’t know what to say to that, so she asked him why he didn’t like the Feats. They talked about First Fridays, the blood divide, their families—he was oddly avoidant about his parents—as the day stretched into the brink of sunset.
“What’s your name?” he asked, standing up. The sky was dimming, and the crowds had already scattered. Her parents would be worried if she wasn’t home soon.
“Mare,” she answered. “Yours?”
Before he could answer, another figure appeared next to the two, a hood also hanging low over his face. As he took it off, Mare could make out the family resemblance; it must have been the older brother the boy had spoken of. “Mavey, it’s time to leave.”
“Mavey?” A smile came to her lips.
The older brother turned as if seeing the girl on the bench for the first time. He had a worried expression on his face
“It’s a nickname,” Mavey explained, nudging his brother. He gestured to where she sat on the bench. “This is Mare.”
“And she is—?”
“A friend,” Mare said with a smile.
The older brother frowned and whispered something in his ear.
When he spoke again, his voice was oddly vulnerable. “If you want to meet again, I’ll be here every Saturday after First Friday.”
Mare shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be able to meet again.”
“Well, if you are, then I’ll be here waiting.”
Mare still remembered.
Whenever she was upset or overwhelmed, she would return to the street lined with bars and taverns. Not only was it a good place to thief, even after the closure of the popular gambling den people had made bets in front of, but it brought back memories from two years ago like it was yesterday.
But now there was something else beyond the memories, a haze of hopelessness and desperation that shrouded everything in gray. From the dim lights glowing behind the windows of the inns to the faces of the patrons that Mare slipped her fingers into the pockets of, fishing for coins to numb her grief, everything was devoid of color.
No one had been exiting through this door for at least ten minutes. Perhaps it would be wise to leave now, before her parents became worried and looked for her. But she knew she couldn’t go back just yet, couldn’t handle their disappointment at what she had caused. The image of the officer breaking her sister’s hand played in her mind in slow motion for the millionth time that night, and Mare clutched the coins in her pocket tighter, as if money could chase the memory away.
She almost startled when a figure appeared in front of her. Almost.
As she had done countless times before, she casually took a step forward, eyes looking in a neutral direction as she extended a hand into their pocket. Her fingers closed around something before she felt their gaze.
Despite knowing that it was as good as admitting her dishonest intentions, she looked up. If it wasn’t for the grayness of everything around her, his features would have appeared handsome. Striking, at least. But more than that, it was familiar in a way that could only mean one thing.
Memories flooded her mind as she put the pieces together. I’ll be here every Saturday after First Friday. Did he still remember or was it merely a coincidence?
Mare was no stranger to the consequences of thievery, especially in places where Silver lords and their servants congregated this time of the year. Although her movements were slightly slower than usual, instinct took over in a heartbeat as she took two, then four, then eight steps away from him. She couldn’t take the risk.
“Wait.” His voice was deeper than it had been the last time she saw him, pulsing with recognition and unanswered hope. While the other patrons’ had been full of laughter, words slurring from alcohol, his was painfully sober.
She stopped, not trusting herself to turn. What if he looked at her and saw only a street thief? What if he was waiting to report her?
“Mare.”
A question. And an answer.
It took all she had not to run to him. Her secret friend. “You remembered,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.
“I did.”
“Were you here every Saturday night?”
“I was. But I never saw you until today.”
A hundred questions fought to the front of her mind. “How are you? How have you been?”
“Not… not so great.” He brushed it off as if it was nothing as he gestured for her to sit. “Enough about me though. How are you? Thieving still?” His brows drew into a line of concern, worry filling his eyes. “Do you have a job?”
The image of the officer breaking Gisa’s hand resurfaced in her mind. Mare shook her head, her shoulders dropping. “No.” About that, she wanted to add, but he interrupted first.
“You’re seventeen now, right? Is there… is there anyone in your family that works? They might be able to help you find one.”
“My sister did.” Her voice turned raw. “But she doesn’t anymore. Because of me.”
Mare recounted the day’s events and what had led up to it, omitting the part about Farley and the Scarlet Guard. It had been a while since Mare had talked about her feelings like this—two years, actually. Her shoulders dropped in relief once everything was out, escaping into the night air. Something in her felt whole again as she sunk into his warmth, the world a little less gray than before.
He squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could help.”
“You listening means the world to me.” Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them back to meet his gaze. His eyes were the same icy blue of the boy that she had befriended two years ago, but they were now filled with a form of sorrow she couldn’t place. She supposed they were both different now, having been broken by the reality of the flawed world they lived in.
“My brother has a good job. I’ll see if there’s anything I can ask him to do.”
Don’t worry about it. You’ve done more than enough, she wanted to say, but instead all that came out was “thanks.”
He hesitated. “Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head, guilt pricking her chest. She had no idea what the future held for her anymore.
“I can’t promise if I can be here after this. Things are… changing.”
Mare smiled sadly. She understood that. “For me as well.”
A noise to the left captured her attention. A couple patrons exited the tavern, their steps staggered and unsteady. He waited until their voices were lost to the night before speaking again.
“One last thing.” He dug into his pockets, sliding something cool into her palm. She hesitantly closed her fingers around it, feeling the edges of smooth metal between her fingertips. “You need it more than I do.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t dare to look at it just yet, despite her curiosity.
He took a step away, but his eyes remained on hers. “Maybe we’ll meet in another life. I wouldn’t have picked this one if I had the choice.” His gaze was hopeless and full of regret, sinking ships against a flood threatening to destroy everything they’d ever known.
He was broken too, but she couldn’t save him.
“Good luck.” Her voice sounded fragile. If something else went wrong this night, she would shatter.
“Good luck.” He gave her a small smile that hurt more than she’d like to admit.
Mare waited until he was out of sight before returning home. It occurred to her that she’d never asked if he had a job, whether he faced conscription like her or a slightly better fate.
After all, he had said that things were changing. That might have meant conscription, or something else entirely.
She opened her fingers. A silver coin rested in her palm, reflecting the gray moonlight.
A tetrarch. Worth more than everything in her pockets combined.
At least she now knew the answer to the question of whether he had a job.
The maids curtsied as they finished with her outfit and makeup, silent hands shaping her into a Silver princess. The heavy layers of lace draped uncomfortably, the face paint turned her into a cold lie, the excessive jewelry made Mare feel like a child playing dress-up. At least the maids left her earrings alone, the one thing that rooted her to her past. She ran a finger over them now, remembering her brother’s names. Bree, Tramy, Shade.
The bedroom door opened with a crack. Mare turned to find a familiar face. The face she had thought was a friend. The face that had betrayed her.
The maids bowed as Maven entered. Prince Maven, she had learned. “Your Highness.”
He nodded, gesturing for them to leave. Once the door shut behind them, he walked over to where she stood, clad in a purple and silver dress, heavy makeup covering the warm flush in her cheeks. “Mare.”
“Mareena now,” she corrected. His gaze and posture seemed to have more of an edge now that she saw him as his true self. A Silver. A monster. The enemy. “You lied to me.”
“I couldn’t very well tell you who I was,” he said flatly. Then his voice softened. “I’m sorry for getting you into this mess. I wanted you to have a way to support yourself. I didn’t expect you to get one so close to… me.”
“Because you hate it here so much?” Unintentionally, bitterness dripped from her words. He was Silver. He had anything he could ever want in this place. Not like her, being forced to live a lie, on the edge between that and downfall, the Queen’s eyes following wherever she went.
How could he look her in the eye and tell her that this wasn’t the life he would have chosen?
He shook his head. “Forget about that.”
“Was it true?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“So you lied.”
“It’s easier to get people’s pity that way.”
“You don’t deserve pity. Look what you have.” Mare gestured to the glamor in her room and beyond the doorway, heat flaming in her chest. “Everything you could ever want.”
“Look what I don’t have.” His eyes bore into hers. “A choice.”
Her ears flushed with anger. How dare he pretend their lack of having were the same. “Neither do I.”
“So we’re even. Sort of.”
She wanted to argue, but Elara’s voice made her freeze as it echoed through her mind. From now on you live on the edge of a knife. “I suppose.”
“This will be easier if you let others help you.” A new warmth filled his eyes in an expression that wasn’t quite a smile. “Let’s start again. Maven Calore.” He extended a hand.
Mare shook his hand. It was unusually cold for a burner. “Mareena Titanos.” Her voice came out weaker than she had intended.
Maven noticed it too. “That’s okay, but project more confidence next time.”
She nodded and repeated her new name—her fake name—in a firm voice. “Better?”
“Yes.” He tilted his head. “Don’t worry too much. You get used to it.”
She nodded in silent thanks, hating herself for showing gratitude for a Silver.
Rain pattered relentlessly against the windows of Mare’s room, trails of water that blurred the glass as lightning struck somewhere beyond. She could sense it in her bones, the physical crackle of electricity in her body that made her feel alive.
Her ability was her only comfort against the pressures she lived under and the eyes that followed her steps, waiting for her to fall. It was the only thing that was truly hers. The court, Cal, Elara, were all watching her for different reasons that made her skin prick, made her feel like a piece in someone else’s game, made her feel weak. Her lightning made her strong.
Or at least less weak.
But she couldn’t be weak, not tonight, she thought as she walked across the room to her bed. Not ever again. She was Silver to the court, Scarlet Guard to her people. She had to stay strong, for herself, for the dawn rising at their doorsteps, for Maven. That was a weird turn of thought.
She still wasn’t completely sure what had compelled her into trusting the second Prince, only that she wanted to. She was tired of seeing threats in everyone. And they had entered some kind of mutual understanding, partially because it was deemed necessary by his new allegiance to the Scarlet Guard.
The shadow of the flame.
Only flames didn’t have shadows. So perhaps he was a flame that burned just as strong but in all the wrong ways.
A knock at the door. She walked over, silently wishing she didn’t have to put on another front as Mareena. Her shoulders relaxed as she saw who it was. Maven knew what she was like as Mare.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, eyes looking her over.
“It’s been fine.” She ignored the warmth blossoming in her chest as she stepped into the hallway. Sentinels lined either side, and she lowered her voice as they walked past the guards. “Anything new?”
“Farley made contact just now. She’s expecting me to give names.” He swallowed. “I know which ones. I think.”
Targets. A chill ran up her spine. “Who?”
He listed four names, ones that she was all too familiar with. It didn’t feel like they were plotting the death of four powerful men and women, even though that was what it was. It didn’t feel like they were working for the freedom of millions of Reds, although that certainly was the goal.
It felt like a dangerous secret shared between just the two of them. It could be their downfall, or their only hope. Her eyes wandered out the window. The lightning had ceased, leaving only the rain. It sounded like tears, for the oppressed Reds, for the victims’ families, for the two of them as they embarked on a journey with no return.
“Mare.” Look at me, his eyes said. “It’s worth it. For freedom. Remember all the lives that will be saved, yours included.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She wanted nothing more than to stay in his embrace, his touch, his understanding. What was wrong with her? Why was she associating herself with someone who had betrayed her?
Over the days she spent at the Hall of the Sun, it was him that had held her through the tiring lessons, him that had asked Cal to take her to her family, him that joined the Scarlet Guard for her, him that had made her belong with his family and among the hostile Silver court. Maybe he had lied, but he also cared for her like no one else had.
His arms wrapped around her shoulders as she spoke, her voice trembling. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”
His voice was firm but gentle. “This is the way it has to be.”
At least she wasn’t alone. She still had him.
They stayed in that embrace for a while, his touch soothing away her pain.
“How much of what you told me back then was true?” she whispered.
“Nothing.”
“You might be a convincing liar to people who have never heard you tell the truth.”
He took a deep breath. “Mare, there’s so much I wish I could tell you. But now isn’t the time to reminisce on weakness. Now is the time to fight.”
She pulled back. His eyes were sorrowful. Without meaning to, she had fallen in love with Maven Calore, the one who understood how it felt being a shadow, the one braver than any Silver with their strength and power.
Cal had been right. They were so similar.
“I want you to tell me everything when it’s over.” I want to comfort you as you had me. I want to hold you through the night. I want to not have to be strong for once.
I want to save you.
He squeezed her hand with a sad smile. “I will.”
The night before the coup was cool, the moon obscured by the heavy autumn clouds.
Mare ran through their plans for the millionth time in her head. She already knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Time passed too slowly, her heartbeat a ticking clock, counting down the seconds to dawn.
He’s in love with you, Maven had said. Mare had known the Crown Prince cared for her from his gentle voice and longing gaze, but hadn’t been so sure he would give up the throne and all that he had been born to defend.
But she knew Maven wouldn’t lie. And he knew Cal much better than she did.
Maven quietly entered the room, his eyes widening in surprise for reasons Mare couldn’t decipher.
“I’m pretty sure this is inappropriate,” she said.
“It’s fine.” He gestured to the cameras. “You can turn them off if you’d like. I’ll deal with it in the morning.” His eyes travelled back to her.
“Something wrong?”
“Nothing.” He blinked. “You look beautiful.”
Instinctively, her fingers twisted around one of her brown locks. She didn’t have any makeup on. She looked like herself—a Red.
“Oh.” Electricity hummed along the room before she shut it off. It came as easily as second nature to her now. “Thank you.”
“It’s going to be a long night.” He sat down next to her on the bed.
“It is.” They sat in quiet, looking at the city out the window. It will not be the same city tomorrow, she thought. “Are you afraid?” she asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t know if I even feel anything about it anymore.” His eyes burned cold in the dark. “Are you?”
“No.” It was the truth. She was ready.
“Good.” His fingers interlaced with hers against the sheets. “I actually needed to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
Maven swallowed. “When all this ends, when you finally have the choice, where do you think you’ll be? Who would you be with?”
Mare didn’t hesitate. “Safe. With my family.” Their eyes met. Why was he crying? “You… if you don’t leave me.”
“You’d choose me?”
The boy she trusted with her secrets two years ago. The one who had steadily waited for her ever since. The prince whose beautiful heart was hidden to everyone but her.
The answer was easy. In a heartbeat.
“Yes, Maven, I choose you.”
A tear trailed down his cheek, and Mare brushed it away with her thumb. He sat unmoving as she searched his eyes. “What’s wrong?"
Instead of answering, he closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers. The taste of tears and weakness and hope. It only lasted a brief second, but it was enough to make her crave more as she moved closer.
He held out a hand against her heart, eyes desperate, crazed. “Promise me.”
Her voice was breathless. “Anything.”
“Promise me you won’t forget this. Promise me you won’t forget us. Promise me you’ll see me the same way you do now, even when all this is over, and I—” His voice wavered. “Promise me.”
It was too easy to fall into him, their hearts beating against each other’s, the moonlight contouring his features so perfectly to rival the work of a Shadow. “I promise,” she whispered into his ear.
His voice was soft as he told her the story of Thomas, the boy he had loved, who died in a fire he had accidentally caused. As he told her about how the queen forced him to walk at a young age and took away his nightmares. How he didn’t know which part of him was his and which part was hers. How Mare had made him feel human after all those years in the dark.
“She said she was trying to make me strong when she forced me through the pain. But love will always make me weak and now I don’t think I dislike it.” He gave her a sad smile, his voice fallen ashes against the night. Tomorrow, they would be reborn.
“You’re more than what she made you into. You’re braver, stronger than Cal and anyone she says you are or wants you to be.” She projected hope and confidence into her voice, the way Maven had taught her to do. “And tomorrow, we will both be free from her.”
“I hope so.” He stood up, back to being the second Prince. “Promise?”
Mare nodded. “Promise.”
Despite not wanting to watch, Mare’s eyes were glued to the sword in Cal’s hand as it made its way to Tiberias’s neck. She reached for her electricity but came out empty, the weight of Silence still upon her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to strike everyone in the room with her lightning and fury, but there was nothing. Nothing she could do.
She felt herself sinking, sinking into an endless abyss. She had known she would be punished if their stage failed. But she hadn’t expected Maven to be such a good actor.
Anyone can betray anyone.
But Maven hadn’t expected her to be there either time she saw him as Mare. Certainly some part of what he said had to have been the truth.
And he has betrayed you once again.
Her heart was breaking in two. Some part of her still dared to hope, even after their failure, even after the likely deaths of Farley and Kilorn. A part that told her that Maven wanted to be free as much as she did. But the other part knew that it was all over.
Do something, Maven. Prove that you’re the boy I loved, that you’re not the monster she made. She couldn’t say the words out loud, but she screamed them on the inside, hoping he could hear her desperation. I promised you. I trusted you. And I still trust you.
Maven’s eyes were unreadable as they met hers.
It happened in the blink of an eye, the sword being ripped from Cal’s hand, the firemaker at Maven’s wrist sparking into an inferno, the flames travelling up the blade and sinking into Elara’s throat. Her eyes widened as she fell gasping, silver blood streaking the floor.
Red blood is so hard to clean up. Was Silver any better?
She sensed the hum of the cameras almost immediately as the Arven guard released his hold. He screamed before taking a couple steps towards the King, as if he was the one he had been trying to protect all along. It took a second for Mare to register what he had said. Traitor. She wanted to laugh.
“He saved your life,” she said bitterly as Tiberias pointed an accusing finger at her. “Yours too.” She eyed Cal, who looked like he wanted to burn Elara’s corpse until only ashes remained.
Maven turned to Cal. “So, brother, are you going to execute me for saving your lives?”
Everything went quiet before Cal finally spoke. “That’s not up to me.”
“You were part of her plan to overthrow the throne.” Tiberias’s voice was hoarse. “That’s treason.”
“But he didn’t go through with it—” Mare started before Maven interrupted.
“Oh, I almost forgot about you, Father. You are a worse King than even Cal would be. You never saw what was right in front of you. Though I suppose he is no different.” He turned back to face his brother. “How many times have you seen what she was doing to me and said nothing about it? You knew. You knew, but you ignored it. Like everyone else.”
Mare took a deep breath. “Maven, stop. She doesn’t control you anymore.”
“You took everything from me, Cal. The only thing I had to myself, you wanted to take it too. I see your eyes follow her as she walks through the halls, when we danced at the ball. Looks like the perfect son isn’t so perfect after all, huh? What would Evangeline think?”
“Look at me,” Mare whispered, pleading.
“This is nonsense,” Tiberias said, standing up. “Take him. Her too.” The Arven moved to grab them, but he shook his head, gesturing for Cal to take them instead, the only one in the room that hadn’t betrayed the Crown.
Cal’s voice was desperate. “Father, there has to be another way.”
“You’ll understand one day. But this is what has to be done.” His voice was as hollow as the footsteps they made, following Cal out of the soundproof room.
The silent stone drained Mare’s energy, leaving only cold numbness where her sparks had once been. Emptiness lingered within the gray walls of her cell. At least it was next to Maven’s.
“We originally planned to execute you in the Bowl of Bones,” Maven drawled as Cal walked close. “You’re just like my mother. A killer. A monster.”
“So were you.” Mare could feel the Crown Prince’s heat from her cell as he spoke, his voice an odd mixture of anger and regret.
“Well, I didn’t get much of a say in it, did I?”
“Maven, shut up,” Mare said. She turned to face Cal. “Prove that you aren’t. Let us go.”
“Or you could let us battle to the death,” Maven said. “I wouldn’t mind having my life ended by the person who gave it back to me. Don’t forget to bury me with my mother.”
Cal shook his head. “I’d rather not.” A beat passed. “Tomorrow at this time, I’ll have Sara Skonos come down. You guys are free to leave after that. I’ll cover up the evidence.” He swallowed. “I can’t promise there won’t be anyone on your trail, though. The entire court thinks you’re a killer.”
“Thank you,” Mare said at the same time that Maven said, “he doesn’t deserve our thanks.”
“I’m sorry, Maven,” Cal said softly. “You deserved better than what we ever gave you.”
“Leave me alone,” Maven said.
Hurt flashed across Cal’s eyes. The brother he hadn’t saved, and now could never be saved by him. The two of them watched his retreating form as he left the cells.
“You don’t have to hurt people anymore,” Mare whispered, reaching out to hold Maven’s hand from the other side of the bars. “Especially people who love you.”
“Her voice speaks to me all the time. She tells me all the bad things they’ve done, all the wrongs they've committed against me.”
That’s not love, Maven, she wanted to say. That is control and manipulation to force you to see no one but her. But she didn’t want to stay on the subject of his mother’s motivations, afraid it would hurt him further. “You’re free of her now,” she said instead. “We’re free of her now.”
His eyes were pained. “It’s not like that. I loved her.”
“I know.”
“I’m glad she’s gone.”
“Me too.”
A beat passed. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“No, it makes you human.” She had to distract him from the topic of his mother before he went down a spiral. “Where do you want to go after this?”
A small smile played on his lips. “Anywhere you want, my Princess.”
The title made her uncomfortable. “I don’t think I’ll be a Princess anymore. Or Mareena.”
“Of course not. We can be whoever we want.” He squeezed her fingers. “A Calore prince and a Red with abilities. We could overthrow this kingdom if we wanted.”
Instinctively, she looked up to check if there were cameras. If there were, she couldn’t feel them, her sense already dulled by the silent stone. “Maybe. As Scarlet Guard.”
“Maybe.” He paused. “I’m glad you trusted me.”
“I almost didn’t, for a minute.”
“I had to play my part well. Mother goes into my head whenever she senses something… off. It had to be a split-second decision.”
Mare nodded. “I know.” Their eyes met, blue and brown against cold gray. “And I’m glad you told the truth.”
“I’m glad, too.” Their fingers stayed intertwined, fire and lightning subdued to nothing but silence. But tomorrow would come, bringing with it a new dawn for just the two of them.
It had to.
They had been walking through the forest for hours, the gun Cal had given them a weight at Mare’s hip. There might be Silences, he had said. Maven carried his own as well, although neither of them were well trained on how to aim. They were on the outskirts of Archeon, nearing the edge.
Fatigue settled in as the night grew dark, but Maven insisted that they had to leave the area as quickly as possible.
“Not many people in Court liked my mother. But there are a few loyal to her. Samson Merandus might be the first to look for us. He’s our cousin.” The name rang a bell. It was the man that had ruthlessly destroyed his opponent in the Feats with nothing but his mind.
“Also a whisper?”
He nodded. Then his face turned solemn. “Usually my predictions are right. He’ll aim for my mind first and have me watch as you die at my hands. Kill me before that happens and run. You’ll just be a Red to him—he won’t waste his energy on finding you.” He gestured to the gun on her belt. “After all that we’ve done, I don’t want to be under the control of a whisper ever again.”
It pained her to even think about it. “That won’t happen.”
He took her hand. “I know it won’t. But if it does, I want to die as I am, no one else.” His eyes were resolute. “Promise me you’ll run. For me.”
“I… I promise.” Her voice wavered, a vow she couldn’t keep. The last time she had made a promise to him was in the safety of her room in Whitefire. It seemed like an eternity ago.
Steps turned into acres and acres turned to miles. Mare’s energy thinned along with the trees. They were nearing the border of the forest. The moon shone like a beacon in the dark sky.
“Mare.” Maven’s voice had never sounded so desperate.
Before she could say anything, he pressed his lips into hers. This is the end; they’ve been discovered. But she didn’t care as she wrapped her arms around him, the sweet taste of yearning and heartache on her tongue. He was everything. She never wanted to let go.
A heartbeat passed before his eyes turned cold and detached. Distant. Mare’s hands trembled as she reached for the gun. Could she do this?
Her hands grabbed Maven’s gun instead as a man stepped into the clearing, his lips in a devilish smile. “So the rumors speak true.”
Mare stared, unmoving. Judging by the faint resemblance to the late queen and Maven’s detached gaze, this was Samson Merandus.
She screamed as fire sparked along one of the gnarled roots lining the forest floor. It danced along the branches, swallowing the plant whole before traveling to another tree and repeating the process. Within seconds the whole forest was aflame, alight in a hellish glow.
He was using Maven to create a wildfire.
And it was trapping her.
Mare called upon her lightning, but before it had the chance to strike, her hand froze, a voice tunneling its way into her mind.
Strike Maven. Strike Maven.
Everything was a haze against the fire. She fought against the voices as Maven cursed, dodging her lightning.
“Do it, Mare. Run from him.” He threw a fireball towards Samson, but it was poorly aimed, coming to her instead. Or perhaps Samson was controlling its direction. Mare’s head cleared. She had to save this, somehow. She had already broken her promise once, and she couldn’t do it again.
Mare grabbed Maven’s gun and aimed, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger.
There was another way, but she didn’t like it.
Mare felt for her electricity again. Samson was still inside Maven’s mind, forcing him to use his ability against her. The wildfire was closing in, cutting the three of them off from the rest of the world. His eyes were haunted as they met hers. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Kill him. Kill him.
With all her energy she forced the voice to be still, or at least as still as was required to control its influence. Her grip on her mind was slipping with every passing second. Grasping tightly to the sparks dancing above her hands, she willed them to follow her command, the last shred of herself she had left.
Mare moved closer and gingerly placed her palm on Maven's chest, feeling his heart race beneath her fingertips. Feeling her lightning as it made its way through his veins, the control it took so that it was in the most painless way possible. Feeling his steady gaze as they latched onto her face, as if memorizing her features for the last time.
At least in that final glimpse, his mind was his own. She knew because she could hear Samson’s voice getting louder in hers.
In a brief moment of surprise, the voices weakened. But it was too late. She forced herself to watch, to feel, as his heart ceased to beat against her hand.
There was no time for grief or mourning. With all of her remaining energy and fury she threw her electricity at the whisper. It crackled and hissed as he burned under her lightning.
The wildfire was still raging around her. She felt for storm clouds gathering overhead, but in her drained state, she could barely call down a lightning bolt, let alone a storm powerful enough to extinguish the flames. Without a burner to tame it, she would be burned alive.
Mare laid down beside Maven’s body, heat drying the tears on her cheeks. If only she could cry a rainstorm. If only tears were enough to bring him back to life. There wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do to have him in her arms again.
I wish I could have saved you.
Everything was a haze. She was fifteen again, wandering the streets of Norta, searching for a kind face amid the crowd. A face with blue eyes and a melancholy smile, who met a girl who reminded him of his former love, a girl who didn’t know his name but drew him in with her sincerity and kindness. A girl who wanted nothing else but to save him despite her flawed heart.
You’ve been saving me from the very beginning. The sleepless nights we spent together, the secrets and the pain that spilled out of our lips in the dark. The moonlight glowing dimly against the curtains that bled our colors into the night.
You saw me as no one else had. I want to say that maybe I saw you, too, the lonely soul under the exterior of a forgotten Prince. In every life, I would still pick you.
Dawn will come. Until then, run. Run with all the rage and vengeance I’ll never have to wield again. Run so hatred and division will never rule Norta as it had me.
Mare blinked, a slow motion that made her head pound. The forest was still aflame, the circle of fire closing in. Smoke choked the air and made it difficult to breathe.
What was wrong with her head? Was Samson still out there? She was fairly certain the man was dead. Was she just hearing voices?
She squeezed Maven’s hand one last time. The flame to her sparks, the fire to her lightning. It felt so final, the last line to an unfinished poem that would never find its ending.
Mare took a deep breath and called upon the electricity in the air. She had never created rain with her ability before, but it couldn’t hurt to try. But before her lightning could strike, a path cleared in the middle of the woods. Flames danced to either side, as if beckoning her forward.
“Maven?” she whispered.
There was no response but the hushed wind, swirling through the burning forest, caressing her ears like the lost words of a lover. The fire rippled in its wake.
Run, it seemed to say.
So she did.