Red Queen (Red Queen, #1)

by Victoria Aveyard

This is the true division between Silvers and Reds: the color of our blood.

“A whisper,” I breathe aloud. Never before have I seen one in the arena—I doubt anyone has. Whispers are rare, dangerous, and powerful, even among the Silvers, even in the capital. The rumors about them vary, but it boils down to something simple and chilling: they can enter your head, read your thoughts, and control your mind.

In school, we learned about the world before ours, about the angels and gods that lived in the sky, ruling the earth with kind and loving hands. Some say those are just stories, but I don’t believe that. The gods rule us still. They have come down from the stars. And they are no longer kind.

I can only hope Kilorn survives long enough for me to see him again, in the barracks or in a trench. Maybe then I’ll find the right words to say. Maybe then I’ll understand how I feel.

For the second time tonight, lightning strikes.

Just when I think there could be nothing more fantastic than this place, I look closer at the Silvers and remember exactly who they are. The little girl is a telky, levitating the apple ten feet into the air to feed the long-necked beast. A florist runs his hands through a pot of white flowers and they explode into growth, curling around his elbows. He’s a greeny, a manipulator of plants and the earth. A pair of nymphs sits by the fountain, lazily entertaining children with floating orbs of water. One of them has orange hair and hateful eyes, even while kids mill around him. All over the square, every type of Silver goes about their extraordinary lives. There are so many, each one grand and wonderful and powerful and so far removed from the world I know.

“And we will rise up, Red as the dawn.”

I can only watch as the officer lays my sister next to me. Her eyes are on mine as he brings the butt of his gun down, shattering the bones in her sewing hand.

I’m Cal, by the way,” he adds, stretching out a hand to shake.

“There are worse lives to live. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

“Red as the dawn . . .” the letter reads.

Somehow, Shade knew. Many weeks ago, before the bombing, before Farley’s broadcast, Shade knew about the Scarlet Guard and tried to tell us. Why? Because he’s one of them.

The crown prince is Cal.

Cal is right next to him, staring down at me with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Cal’s voice says. I think I’m dreaming.

When one of the maids reaches for my earrings, trying to take away the last bit of my old life, a surge of fear pulses through me. “Don’t touch them!” The girl jumps back, blinking quickly, and the others freeze at my outburst. “Sorry, I—” A Silver wouldn’t apologize. I clear my throat, collecting myself. “Leave the earrings.” My voice sounds strong, hard—regal. “You can change everything else, but leave the earrings.” The three cheap pieces of metal, each one a brother, aren’t going anywhere. “The color suits you.” I whirl around to see the maids stooped in identical bows. And standing over them: Cal.

Cal’s eyes rake over me, and my skin burns under his gaze. “How do you like Lucas?” he finally says, taking an obliging step back. The Samos guard, the first decent Silver I’ve met here. “He’s all right, I suppose.” Perhaps the queen will take him away if I reveal how gentle the officer was to me. “Lucas is a good man. His family thinks him weak for his kindness,” he adds, eyes darkening a little. As if he knows the feeling. “But he’ll serve you well, and fairly. I’ll make sure of it.”

Little lightning girl.

Red in the head, Silver in the heart sticks with me, guiding my motions.

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.

“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.

Julian’s words echo in my head—words can lie.

“So this confirms my suspicions.” Sometimes I forget Julian is a scholar and a scientist. But he’s always quick to remind me. “You produced electrical energy.” Now I’m really confused. “Right. That’s my ability, Julian.” “No, I thought your ability was the power to manipulate, not create,” he says, his voice dropping gravely. “No one can create, Mare.” “But that doesn’t make sense. The nymphs—” “Manipulate water that already exists. They can’t use what isn’t there.”

The shadow of the flame.”

Maven lingers at the door, his smile fading a little when I leave his side. “You’re not coming.” It isn’t a question. He shakes his head. “You’ll have enough to worry about without me tagging along.” I don’t have to be a genius to see the truth in his words. But just because he isn’t coming doesn’t mean I will forget what he’s done for me already. Without thinking, I throw my arms around Maven. He doesn’t respond for a second but slowly lets an arm drop around my shoulders. When I pull back, a silver blush paints his cheeks. I can feel my own blood run hot beneath my skin, pounding in my ears. “Don’t be too long,” he says, tearing his eyes away from me to look at Cal.

“Mom, don’t cry,” I say, stepping forward to hug her. She feels so thin in my arms, thinner than I remember. Or maybe I just never noticed how frail she’s become. “It’s not just you, dear, it’s—” She looks away from me, to Dad. There’s a pain in her eyes, a pain I don’t understand. The others can’t bear to look at her. Even Dad stares at his useless feet. A grim weight settles on the house. And then I realize what’s going on, what they’re trying to protect me from. My voice shakes when I speak, asking a question I don’t want to know the answer to. “Where’s Shade?” Mom crumples in on herself, barely making it to a chair at the kitchen table before she devolves into sobs. Bree and Tramy can’t bear to watch, both turning away. Gisa doesn’t move, staring at the floor like she wants to drown in it. No one speaks, leaving only the sound of my mother’s tears and my father’s labored breathing to fill the hole my brother once occupied. My brother, my closest brother. I fall backward, almost missing a step in my anguish, but Cal steadies me. I wish he wouldn’t. I want to fall down, to feel something hard and real so the pain in my head won’t hurt so badly. My hand strays to my ear, grazing over the three stones I hold so dearly. The third, Shade’s stone, feels cold against my skin. “We didn’t want to tell you in a letter,” Gisa whispers, picking at her splint. “He died before the discharge came.” The urge to electrify something, to pour my rage and sorrow into a single bolt of bitin...

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Cal blurts out. “I didn’t know he—” “—was already dead?” Executed for desertion. Another lie.

Kilorn backs away, flinching when the cycle revs up. Then he smirks at me, his features curling into an expression that used to make me want to punch him. “I’ll tell Farley you said hello.” The cycle growls like a beast, tearing me away from Kilorn and the Stilts and my old life. Fear curls through me like a poison, until I’m scared from head to toe. But not for myself. Not anymore. I’m scared for Kilorn, for the idiotic thing he’s going to do. He’s going to find Farley. And he’s going to join her.

Walsh is in the Guard too.

Elane slips in and out of my vision as she bends the light around herself until she disappears altogether. A windweaver boy, Oliver of House Laris, creates a miniature whirlwind between his hands, stirring up tiny bits of dust. Sonya lazily trades blows with Andros Eagrie, a short but muscular eighteen-year-old. As a silk, Sonya is brutally skilled and fast and should be able to best him, but Andros matches her blow for blow in a violent dance. The Silvers of House Eagrie are eyes, meaning they can see the immediate future, and Andros is using his abilities to their full extent.

He is Rane Arven, the instructor, the executioner, the silence. He can reduce a Silver to what they hate most: a Red. He can turn their abilities off. He can make them normal.

Coriane Jacos, the Singer Queen.” I’ve never seen Julian this way, not once. Usually he’s quiet, calm, a little obsessed maybe, but never angry. Never so hurt. “She wasn’t chosen by Queenstrial, you know. Not like Elara, or Evangeline, or even you. No, Tibe married my sister because he loved her—and she loved him.”

“They hated her because we were from a low house, because we didn’t have strength or power or any other silly thing those people uphold,” Julian rails on, still looking away. His shoulders heave with each breath. “And when my sister became queen, she threatened to change all that. She was kind, compassionate, a mother who could raise Cal to be the king this country needed to unite us all. A king who wouldn’t be afraid of change. But that never came to be.”

“I know what it’s like to lose a sibling,” I murmur, remembering Shade. It doesn’t seem real, like maybe everyone is just lying and he’s at home now, happy and safe. But I know that isn’t true. And somewhere, my brother’s decapitated body lies as proof of that. “I only found out last night. My brother died at the front.” Julian finally turns back around, his eyes glassy. “I’m sorry, Mare. I didn’t realize.” “You wouldn’t. The army doesn’t report executions in their little books.” “Executed?” “Desertion.” The word tastes like blood, like a lie. “Even though he never would.” After a long moment of silence, Julian puts a hand on my shoulder. “It seems we have more in common than you think, Mare.” “What do you mean?” “They killed my sister too. She stood in the way, and she was removed. And”—his voice drops—“they’ll do it again, to anyone they have to. Even Cal, even Maven, and especially you.” Especially me. The little lightning girl.

“And the other one?” she murmurs. Other one? “Holland’s bringing him. Any second now.” Walsh sounds breathless, excited even, about whoever we’re waiting for. Even Farley’s eyes shine. “What is it? Who else joined up?” They don’t answer me, exchanging glances instead. A few names run through my head, servants and kitchen boys who would support the cause. But the person who joins us is no servant. He’s not even Red. “Maven.”

He is a prince and, worst of all, the queen’s son. I didn’t want to trust him before for this very reason, for the secrets he kept hidden. Or maybe this is what he was hiding all along . . . his own heart.

“Swear on your colors,” she growls at him. An ancient oath, according to Lady Blonos. Like swearing on your life, your family, and your children to come, all at once. And Maven doesn’t hesitate to do it. “I swear on my colors,” he says, dipping his head. “I pledge myself to the Scarlet Guard.” It sounds like his marriage proposal, but this is far more important, and more deadly.

I move quietly over the tile floor until I feel his hand in mine. It blazes with now familiar heat.

I can tell he’s thinking of Thomas, of everyone he watched die. His shoulder brushes mine as he pulls back, retreating into me for protection. Farley doesn’t miss it and almost laughs out loud. “The little prince and the little lightning girl.” She laughs. “You two suit each other. One, a coward, and you”—she turns to me, her steel-blue eyes burning—“the last time we met, you were scrabbling in the mud for a miracle.” “I found it,” I tell her. To cement my point, my hands spark up, casting dancing purple light over us.

“You can’t beat her with ability, so beat her with your head.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” Maven mutters, begrudging the advice but taking it all the same. “You’re getting better though,” Cal murmurs, patting Maven on the shoulder. He means well but comes off as patronizing. I’m surprised Maven doesn’t snap at him—but he’s used to this, like I was used to Gisa. “Thanks, Cal. I think he gets it,” I say, speaking for Maven. His older brother isn’t stupid and takes the hint with a frown. With nothing but a backward glance at me, Cal leaves us to stand with Evangeline. I wish he wouldn’t, just so I don’t have to watch her smirk and gloat. Not to mention I get this strange twist in my stomach every time he looks at her.

Cal’s blood might be silver, but his heart is black as burned skin.

When his eyes trail to mine, I force myself to look away. Instead of letting his warmth, his strange kindness confuse me, I commit the inferno to memory. Cal is more dangerous than all of them put together. I cannot forget that.

“I challenge Mareena Titanos.”

A razor leg drags across my face, drawing red, hot blood. I hear myself scream, not in pain, but defeat. This is the end. And then a blazing arm of fire knocks the metal monster off me, burning it into nothing more than a charred black pile of ash. Strong hands pull me to my feet and then go to my hair, pulling it across my face to hide the red mark that could betray me. I turn in to Maven, letting him walk me from the training room. Every inch of me shakes, but he keeps me steady and moving. A healer comes my way, but Cal heads him off, blocking my face from his sight. Before the door slams behind us, I hear Evangeline yelling and Cal’s usually calm voice yelling right back, roaring over her like a storm.

He keeps a tight grip on my arm, like he’s afraid I might be pulled away from him. His hand ghosts over my face, wiping away the blood with his sleeve. If anyone sees . . . “Take me to Julian.” “Julian’s a fool,” he mutters. Figures appear at the far end of the hall, a pair of roaming nobles, and he pushes us down a service passage to avoid them. “Julian knows who I am,” I whisper back, grabbing on to him. As his grip tightens, so does mine. “Julian will know what to do.”

Julian’s lip curls into a snarl. “Find Sara Skonos,” he snaps, his jaw tightening as he waits for Maven to move. I’ve never seen Maven this angry, not even with Cal. But then, it’s not anger spilling out from Maven or Julian—it’s hate. They absolutely despise each other. “Do it, my prince.” The title sounds like a curse coming from Julian’s lips. Maven finally concedes and slips out the door. “What’s that all about?” I whisper, gesturing between Julian and the door. “Not now,” he says, and tosses me a white cloth to clean myself with. It stains a dark red as my blood ruins the fabric.

He tries to hide it, but not well: Julian was in love with her once, and maybe even still is. He looks at the door like a man haunted, waiting for her to come back.

“Best hurry up, Lady Mareena, or you’ll be late for luncheon,” she purrs, finally turning her ghostly eyes on me. And then it’s my turn to hold on to Maven. “And take a little more care in your Training sessions. Red blood is just so hard to clean up.” “You would know,” I snap, remembering Shade. “Because no matter how hard you try to hide it, I see it all over your hands.”

“My son the general!” King Tiberias booms, his proud voice cutting through the din of the party. For a second, when he pulls Cal close, putting an arm around his son, I forget he’s a king. I almost understand Cal’s need to please him. What would I give to see my mother look at me like that, back when I was nothing but a thief? What would I give now? This world is Silver, but it is also gray. There is no black-and-white.

He laughs, leaning against the doorframe. But his feet never enter my room, like he can’t. Or he shouldn’t. You’re going to be his brother’s wife. And he’s going to war.