King’s Cage (Red Queen Book 3)

It takes hours to paint and polish me into the girl I’m supposed to be, but it seems like just a few minutes. When the maids stand me up in front of the mirror, silently asking for my approval, I can only nod at the girl staring back at me from the glass. She looks beautiful and terrified by what’s to come, wrapped in shimmering silk chains. I have to hide her, the scared girl; I have to smile and dance and look like one of them. With great effort, I push my fear away. Fear will get me killed.

Maven waits for me at the end of the hall, a shadow in his dress uniform. The charcoal black makes his eyes stand out, vibrantly blue against pale white skin. He doesn’t look scared at all, but then, he’s a prince. He’s Silver. He won’t flinch.

He extends an arm toward me, and I gladly take it. I expect him to make me feel safe or strong or both, but his touch reminds me of Cal and our betrayal. Last night comes into sharper focus, until every breath stands out in my head. For once, Maven doesn’t notice my unease. He’s thinking about more important things.

“You look beautiful,” he says quietly, nodding down at my dress.

I don’t agree with him. It’s a silly, overdone thing, a complication of purple jewels that sparkle whenever I turn, making me look like a glittery bug. Still, I’m supposed to be a lady tonight, a future princess, so I nod and smile gratefully. I can’t help but remember that my lips, now smiling for Maven, were kissing his brother last night.

“I just want this to be over.”

“It won’t end tonight, Mare. This won’t be over for a long time. You know that, right?” He speaks like someone much older, much wiser, not like a seventeen-year-old boy. When I hesitate, truly not knowing how to feel, his jaw tightens. “Mare?” he prods, and I can hear the tremors in his voice.

“Are you afraid, Maven?” My words are weak, a whisper. “I am.”

His eyes harden, shifting into blue steel. “I’m afraid of failing. I’m afraid of letting this opportunity pass us by. And I’m afraid of what happens if nothing in this world ever changes.” He turns hot under my touch, driven by an inner resolve. “That scares me more than dying.”

It’s hard not to be swept away by his words, and I nod along with him. How can I back out? I will not flinch.

“Rise,” he murmurs, so low I barely hear him. Red as the dawn.

His grip tightens on me as we come to the hall in front of the lifts. A troop of Sentinels guards the king and queen, both waiting for us. Cal and Evangeline are nowhere to be found, and I hope they stay away. The longer I don’t have to look at them together, the happier I’ll be.

Queen Elara wears a sparkling monstrosity of red, black, white, and blue, displaying the colors of her house and her husband’s. She forces a smile, staring right through me to her son.

“Here we go,” Maven says, letting go of my hand to stand at his mother’s side. My skin feels strangely cold without him.

“So how long do I have to be here?” He forces a whine into his voice, playing his part well. The more he can keep her distracted, the better our chances. One poke into the wrong head and everything will go up in smoke. And get us all killed for good measure.

“Maven, you can’t just come and go as you please. You have duties, and you’ll stay as long as you’re needed.” She fusses over him, adjusting his collar, his medals, his sleeves, and for a moment, it takes me off guard. This is a woman who invaded my thoughts, who took me away from my life, who I hate, and still there’s something good. She loves her son. And for all her faults, Maven loves her.

King Tiberias, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered by Maven at all. He barely glances his way. “The boy’s just bored. Not enough excitement in his day, not like back at the front,” he says, running a hand over his trimmed beard. “You need a cause, Mavey.”

For a brief moment, Maven’s annoyed mask drops. I have one, his eyes scream, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“Cal’s got his legion, he knows what he’s doing, what he wants. You need to figure out what you’re going to do with yourself, eh?”

“Yes, Father,” Maven says. Though he tries to hide it, a shadow crosses his face.

I know that look very well. I used to wear it myself, when my parents would hint at me to be more like Gisa, even though that was impossible. I went to sleep hating myself, wishing I could change, wishing I could be quiet and talented and pretty like her. There’s nothing that hurts more than that feeling. But the king doesn’t notice Maven’s pain, just like my parents never noticed mine.

“I think helping me fit in here is cause enough for Maven,” I say, hoping to draw the king’s disapproving eye away. When Tiberias turns to me, Maven sighs and shoots me a grateful smile.

“And what a job he’s done,” the king replies, looking me over. I know he’s remembering the poor Red girl who refused to bow to him. “From what I hear, you’re close to a proper lady now.”NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

But the smile he forces doesn’t reach his eyes, and there’s no mistaking the suspicion there. He wanted to kill me back in the throne room, to protect his crown and the balance of his country, and I don’t think the urge will ever fade away. I’m a threat, but I’m also an investment. He’ll use me when he wants and kill me when he must.

“I’ve had good help, my king.” I bow, pretending to be flattered, even though I don’t care what he thinks. His opinion isn’t worth the rust on my father’s wheelchair.

“Are we just about ready?” Cal’s voice says, shattering my thoughts.

My body reacts, spinning around to see him enter the hall. My stomach churns, but not with excitement or nerves or any of the things silly girls talk about. I feel sick with myself, with what I let happen—with what I wanted to happen. Though he tries to hold my gaze, I tear my eyes away, to Evangeline hanging off his arm. She’s wearing metal again, and she manages to smirk without moving her lips.

“Your Majesties,” she murmurs, dipping into a maddeningly perfect curtsy.

Tiberias smiles at her, his son’s bride, before clapping a hand down on Cal’s shoulder. “Just waiting on you, son,” he chortles.

When they stand next to each other, the family resemblance is undeniable—same hair, same red-gold eyes, even the same posture. Maven watches, his blue eyes soft and thoughtful, while his mother keeps her grip on his arm. With Evangeline on one side and his father on the other, Cal can’t do much more than meet my eyes. He nods slightly, and I know it’s the only greeting I deserve.

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.”

“You think I want to do this?” he breathes, his face inches from mine. “I know them all, and it hurts me to betray them, but it must be done. Think what their lives will buy, what their deaths will accomplish. How many of your people could be saved? I thought you understood this!”

He stops himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he collects himself, he raises a hand to my face, tracing the outline of my cheek with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry, I just—” His voice falters. “You might not be able to see where tonight will lead, but I can. And I know this will change things.”

“I believe you,” I whisper, reaching up to hold his hand in my own. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Over his shoulder, back in the ballroom, the receiving line dwindles. The handshakes and pleasantries are over. The night has truly begun.

“But it does, Mare. I promise you, this is what we must do.”

As much as it hurts, as much as my heart twists and bleeds, I nod. “Okay.”

“You two all right out here?”

For a second, Cal’s voice sounds strange and high, but he clears his throat as he pokes out onto the balcony. His eyes linger on my face. “You ready for this, Mare?”

Maven answers for me. “She’s ready.”

Together, we walk away from the railing and the night and the last bit of quiet we might ever have. As we pass through the archway, I feel the ghost of a touch on my arm: Cal. I look back to see him still staring, fingers outstretched. His eyes are darker than ever, boiling with some emotion I can’t place. But before he can speak, Evangeline appears at his side. When he takes her by the hand, I have to tear my eyes away.

Maven leads us to the cleared spot in the center of the ballroom. “This is the hard part,” he says, trying to calm me.

It works a little bit, and the shivers running through me ebb away.

We dance first, the two princes and their brides, in front of everyone. Another display of strength and power, showing off the two girls who won in front of all the families who lost. Right now it’s the last thing I want to do, but it’s for the cause. As the electronic music I hate clatters to life, I realize it’s at least a dance I recognize.

Maven looks shocked when my feet move into place. “You’ve been practicing?”

With your brother. “A bit.”

“You’re just full of surprises.” He chuckles, finding the will to smile.

Next to us, Cal twirls Evangeline into place. They look like a king and queen should, regal and cold and beautiful. When Cal’s eyes meet mine at the exact moment his hands close around her fingers, I feel a thousand things at once, none of them pleasant. But instead of wallowing, I move closer to Maven. He glances down at me, blue eyes wide, as the music takes hold. A few feet away, Cal takes his steps, leading Evangeline in the same dance he taught me. She’s much better at it, all grace and sharp beauty. Again I feel like falling.

We spin across the floor in time with the music, surrounded by cold onlookers. I recognize the faces now. I know the houses, the colors, the abilities, the histories. Who to fear, who to pity. They watch us with hungry eyes, and I know why. They think we’re the future, Cal and Maven and Evangeline and even me. They think they’re watching a king and queen, a prince and princess. But that’s a future I don’t intend to let happen.

In my perfect world, Maven won’t have to hide his heart and I won’t have to hide who I truly am. Cal will have no crown to wear, no throne to protect. These people will have no more walls to hide behind.

The dawn is coming for you all.

We dance through two more songs, and other couples join us on the floor. The swirl of color blocks out any glimpse of Cal and Evangeline, until it feels like Maven and I are spinning alone. For a moment, Cal’s face floats in front of me, replacing his brother’s, and I think I’m back in the room full of moonlight.

But Maven is not Cal, no matter how much his father might want him to be. He isn’t a soldier, he won’t be a king, but he’s braver. And he’s willing to do what’s right.

“Thank you, Maven,” I whisper, barely audible over the horrible music.

He doesn’t have to ask what I’m talking about. “You don’t ever have to thank me.” His voice is strangely deep, almost breaking as his eyes darken. “Not for anything.”

This is the closest I’ve ever been to him, my nose inches away from his neck. I can feel his heart beat beneath my hands, hammering in time with my own. Maven is his mother’s son, Julian said once. He couldn’t be more wrong.

Maven maneuvers us to the edge of the dance floor, now crowded with swirling lords and ladies. No one will notice we’ve stepped away.

“Some refreshments?” a servant murmurs, holding out a tray of the fizzy golden drink. I start to wave him off before I recognize his bottle-green eyes.

I have to bite my tongue to keep from shouting his name aloud. Kilorn.

Strangely, the red uniform suits him and for once he managed to clean the dirt off his face. It seems the fisher boy I knew is entirely gone.

“This thing itches,” he grumbles under his breath. Maybe not entirely.

“Well, you won’t be in it much longer,” Maven says. “Is everything in place?”

Kilorn nods, his eyes darting through the crowd. “They’re ready upstairs.”

Above us, Sentinels crowd a wraparound landing, lining the walls. But above them, in the carved window alcoves and little balconies near the ceiling, the shadows are not Sentinels at all.

“You just have to give the signal.” He holds out the tray and the innocent glass of gold.

Maven straightens next to me, his shoulder against mine in support. “Mare?”

My turn now. “I’m ready,” I murmur, remembering the plan Maven whispered to me a few nights ago. Shivering, I let the familiar buzz of electricity flow through me, until I can feel every light and camera blaze through my head. I lift the glass, and drink deeply.

Kilorn is quick to take the glass back. “One minute.” His voice sounds so final.

He disappears with a swish of his tray, moving through the crowd until I can’t see him anymore. Run, I pray, hoping he’s fast enough. Maven goes as well, leaving me to carry out his own task at his mother’s side.

I head toward the center of the crowd even as the feel of electricity threatens to overtake me. But I can’t let it go yet. Not until they start. Thirty seconds.

King Tiberias looms ahead of me, laughing away with his favorite son. He looks to be on his third glass of wine, and his cheeks are flushed silver, while Cal sips politely at water. Somewhere to my left, I hear Evangeline’s cutting laughter, probably with her brother. All over the room, four people take their last breaths.

I let my heart count out those last seconds, beating away the moments. Cal spots me through the crowd, grinning that smile I love, and starts to come toward me. But he will never reach me, not before the deed is done. The world slows until all I know is the shocking strength within the walls. Like in Training, like with Julian, I’m learning to control it.

Four shots ring out, paired with four bright flashes from the guns high above.

The screams come next.