King’s Cage (Red Queen Book 3)

Elara leaves me standing in the hallway, mulling over her words.

I used to think there was only the divide, Silver and Red, rich and poor, kings and slaves. But there’s much more in between, things I don’t understand, and I’m right in the middle of it. I grew up wondering if I’d have food for supper; now I’m standing in a palace about to be eaten alive.

Red in the head, Silver in the heart sticks with me, guiding my motions. My eyes stay wide, taking in the grand palace both Mare and Mareena had never dreamed of, but my mouth presses into a firm line. Mareena is impressed, but she keeps her emotions in check. She is cold and unfeeling.

The doors at the end of the hall open, revealing the biggest room I’ve ever seen, bigger even than the throne room. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sheer size of this place. I step through the doors onto a landing. Stairs lead down to the floor, where every house sits in cool expectation, their eyes forward. Again, they keep to their colors. A few mutter among themselves, probably talking about me and my little show. King Tiberias and Elara stand on a raised surface a few feet higher than the floor, facing the crowd of their subjects. They never miss an opportunity to lord over the others. Either they’re very vain or very aware. To look powerful is to be powerful.

The princes match their parents in different outfits of red and black, both decorated with military medals. Cal stands to his father’s right, his face still and impassive. If he knows who he’s going to marry, he doesn’t look happy about it. Maven’s there too, on his mother’s left, his face a storm cloud of emotions. The younger brother is not as good as Cal at hiding his feelings.

At least I won’t have to deal with a good liar.

“The right of Queenstrial is always a joyous event, representing the future of our great kingdom and the bonds that keep us strongly united in the face of our enemies,” the king says, addressing the crowd. They don’t see me yet, standing on the edge of the room, looking down on them all. “But as you saw today, Queenstrial has brought forth more than just the future queen.”

He turns to Elara, who clasps the king’s hand in her own with a dutiful smile. Her shift from devilish villain to blushing queen is astounding. “We all remember our bright hope against the darkness of war, our captain, our friend, the General Ethan Titanos,” Elara says.

People murmur over the room, in fondness or sadness. Even the Samos patriarch, Evangeline’s cruel father, bows his head. “He led the Iron Legion to victory, pushing back the lines of war that had stood for nearly a hundred years. The Lakelanders feared him; our soldiers loved him.” I strongly doubt a single Red soldier loved their Silver general. “Lakelander spies killed our beloved friend Ethan, sneaking across the lines to destroy our one hope for peace. His wife, the Lady Nora, a good and just woman, died with him. On that fateful day sixteen years ago, House Titanos was lost. Friends were taken from us. Our blood was spilled.”

Silence settles on the room as the queen pauses to dab at her eyes, wiping away what I know are fake, forced tears. A few of the girls, participants in Queenstrial, fidget in their seats. They don’t care about a dead general, and neither does the queen, not really. This is about me, about somehow slipping a Red girl into a crown without anyone noticing. It’s a magic trick, and the queen is a skilled magician.

Her eyes find me, blazing up to my spot at the top of the stairs, and everyone follows her gaze. Some look confused, while others recognize me from this morning. And a few stare at my dress. They know the colors of House Titanos better than I do and understand who I am. Or at least who I’m pretending to be.

“This morning we saw a miracle. We watched a Red girl fall into the arena like a bolt of lightning, wielding power she should not have.” More murmurs rise, and a few Silvers even stand. The Samos girl looks furious, her black eyes fixed on me.

“The king and I interviewed the girl extensively, trying to discover how she came to be.” Interview is a funny way to describe scrambling my brain. “She isn’t Red, but she is still a miracle. My friends, please welcome back to us Lady Mareena Titanos, daughter of Ethan Titanos. Lost and now found.”

With a twitch of her hand, she beckons me closer. I obey.

I descend the stairs to stilted applause, more focused on not tripping. But my feet are sure, my face still, as I plunge toward hundreds of faces wondering, staring, suspecting. Lucas and my guards don’t follow, staying on the landing. I’m alone in front of these people once again, and I’ve never felt so bare, even with the layers of silk and powder. Again, I’m grateful for all the makeup. It’s my shield, between them and the truth of who I am. A truth I don’t even understand.

The queen gestures to an open seat in the front row of the crowd, and I make my way to it. The Queenstrial girls watch me, wondering why I’m here and why I’m so important all of a sudden. But they’re only curious, not angry. They look at me with pity, empathizing as best they can with my sad story. Except Evangeline Samos. When I finally get to my seat, she’s sitting right next to it, her eyes glaring into mine. Gone are her leather clothes and iron studs; now she wears a dress of interlocked metal rings. From the way her fingers tighten, I can tell she wants nothing more than to wrap her hands around my throat.

“Saved from her parents’ fate, Lady Mareena was taken from the front and brought to a Red village not ten miles from here,” the king continues, taking over so he can tell the grand twist in my tale. “Raised by Red parents, she worked as a Red servant. And until this morning, she believed she was one of them.” The accompanying gasp makes my teeth grind. “Mareena was a diamond in the rough, working in my own palace, the daughter of my late friend under my nose. But no more. To atone for my ignorance, and to repay her father and her house for their great contributions to the kingdom, I would like to take this moment to announce the joining of House Calore and the resurrected House Titanos.”

Another gasp, this one from the girls of Queenstrial. They think I’m taking Cal away from them. They think I’m their competition. I raise my eyes to the king, quietly pleading for him to continue before one of the girls murders me.

I can almost feel Evangeline’s cold metal cutting into me. Her fingers lace together tightly, knuckles white as she resists the urge to skin me in front of everyone. On her other side, her brooding father puts a hand on her arm to still her.

When Maven steps forward, the tension in the room deflates. He stutters briefly, tripping over the words he’s been taught, but he finds his voice. “Lady Mareena.”

Trying my best not to shake, I rise to my feet and face him.

“In the eyes of my royal father and the noble court, I would ask for your hand in marriage. I pledge myself to you, Mareena Titanos. Will you accept?”

My heart pounds as he speaks. Though his words sound like a question, I know I have no choice in my answer. No matter how much I want to look away, my eyes stay on Maven. He gives me the smallest of encouraging smiles. I wonder to myself which girl would’ve been chosen for him.

Who would I have chosen? If none of this had happened, if Kilorn’s master never died, if Gisa’s hand was never broken, if nothing ever changed. If. It’s the worst word in the world.

Conscription. Survival. Green-eyed children with my quick feet and Kilorn’s last name. That future was almost impossible before; now it’s nonexistent.

“I pledge myself to you, Maven Calore,” I say, hammering the last nails into my coffin. My voice quivers, but I don’t stop. “I accept.”

It carries such finality, slamming a door on the rest of my life. I feel like collapsing but somehow manage to sit back down gracefully.

Maven slinks back to his seat, grateful to be out of the spotlight. His mother pats him on the arm in reassurance. She smiles softly, just for him. Even Silvers love their children. But she turns cold again as Cal stands, her smile disappearing in a heartbeat.

The air seems to go out of the room as every girl inhales, waiting for his decision. I doubt Cal had any say in choosing a queen, but he plays his part well, just like Maven, just like I’m trying to do. He smiles brightly, flashing even white teeth that make a few girls sigh, but his warm eyes are terribly solemn.

“I am my father’s heir, born to privilege and power and strength. You owe me your allegiance, just as I owe you my life. It is my duty to serve you and my kingdom as best I can—and beyond.” He’s rehearsed his speech, but the fervor Cal has can’t be faked. He believes in himself, that he’ll be a good king—or die trying. “I need a queen who will sacrifice just as much as I will, to maintain order, justice, and balance.”

The Queenstrial girls lean forward, eager to hear his next words. But Evangeline doesn’t move, an obscene smirk twisting her face. House Samos looks equally calm. Her brother, Ptolemus, even stifles a yawn. They know who has been chosen.

“Lady Evangeline.”

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 basks in her moment of glory. 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 choices, 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 flamemaker. 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, rags 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.”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“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. 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.