Lover's Curse (Red Queen Awards Winner)

Chapter Nine - Play with Fire

You can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you                                                                           - You Should Be Sad by Halsey

Iris

"I don't suppose you plan to burn him alive."  I watch my husband play with his bracelet, blue-white flames flickering across his palm.  "Amusing as it would be."

The air grows cold.  "Do you know what happens to a Burner in silent stone?"

"No."  I gather water near his flame, letting it hiss and crackle.  "Are you volunteering yourself as a test subject?"

He cackles.  "Wife, you have such marvelous fantasies."

"Not the first time you've disappointed.  I'm sure Mare Barrow can attest to that."

His fire extinguishes with a hiss, temperature plunging.  Frost crusts at the windows, and my silk gown is little protection from the chill.  His hands shake with years of repressed rage.

He'd like to incinerate me.

"Calm down."  Sweat pools at my temple.  "It's a joke."

"It's not funny."  Frost retreats from the glass, and my dress feels appropriate again.  Still, his breathing is rapid and uneven.  "I have limits.  Push them at your peril."

As if he could best me.

"You're the one who plays with fire."  I roll my eyes.  "Very well."

Maven chuckles.  "I did consider it.  It was quite tempting to see my brother bested by my flame.  But it struck me as unfair."  He taps the table.  "Did you know Cal is afraid of water?"

I do not like where this is going.

"My perfect brother could be bested by a ten year old in a swimming match.  I was planning to employ an Osanos, but I recognize my rudeness now."  His eyes gleam.  "Would you like the privilege?"

Tiberias Calore was an honest man.  But honest men do not rule the world.

"If you insist."

_

Mare is not amused, though I suppose she never was. She's taking to tearing the curtains from their rods, ones that will surely be replaced within hours. It's hard to blame her. Queens can't destroy curtains. And most prisoners can't either.

"Drowning." She rips the lace to its last thread, and then she rips some more. "Sadistic bastard."

I sigh. My legs cross at the foot of her bed again, but the rest of me is not the same. "He's a strange little man." The words are harder than they used to be. "Petty. Small. All around, unfortunate."

Her head snaps to me, rage etched in her every crevice. "Why aren't you gloating?"

"I don't know." My chin rests in my palms, eyes heavy. "I've never been one for it."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter. You're just like him." A thread twirls between her fingers before she snaps it. "You're just nicer about it."

Something in me snaps.

I stand, vapor rippling, leaving the air for my hands as it curls into a tendril. "I don't think you understand what that means."

"Do I?" She raises a brow. "You're both Silvers. You're married. And you both rule this country, whether you care about it or not."

"I don't brand people." Water swirls up my arm, a miniature snake, settling across my arms and back. "I don't–" I falter. It is true, that I might take a prisoner of war if they were valuable enough. That I might use them as he did her, at least, as he did before the night they crashed into each other's arms. "Did he force you?"

Her brow furrows, taken aback. "What?"

"Did he force you to lie with him?" I take a step forward, letting my tendril curl off me. "I won't hesitate to make him stop."

She scoffs. "You don't have that power."

The night flashes back to me, my trembling hands he sat at the foot of my bed. He knew I couldn't resist. He knew I had my duties, that I couldn't risk my crown on such pointless rebellion. And I am a queen. Who knows what he could do to a prisoner?

"I am queen, Barrow." My back, already rigid, grows even straighter. "There are strings I can pull that you could never fathom."

Pause. Her lips part, then close, fingers tightening against the fragments of lace. "Could–" She swallows. "Could they free me?"

A month ago, I would've laughed. Now, I only sigh. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Well, then what good are you?" Does this girl want to drown? "He didn't force me. Leave."

I study the tendril as it curls around my wrist. "Good. I didn't think he had."

"Whatever." She punches the ground, and I almost expect it to spark. Almost. There's still the manacles, still her chains, still the echoes of what this room can never soften. "How many Osanos?"

A drop falls from my tendril. "I'm sorry?"

"How many Osanos." Her gaze snaps to mine, burning like flint on stone. "Is he sending to drown him?"

"I don't know." My tongue feels leaden. I can't tell her, not now, not when she's already hanging by a thread. "He doesn't tell me those things."

She laughs, a sharp keen more suited to a dying dog. "Liar." Her head shakes. "He told you. I know he did."

"I'm not as powerful as you think." My eyes reflect back at me in the water, the gray distorted like a crystal goblet. "Not in this court."

Mare prowls closer, though her venom has lost its bite. "It's you, isn't it?" She bites her lip, eyes gritting shut, swallowing back what might've been a tear. "A Cygnet drowning a Calore general. You must be so proud of yourself."

I sigh. "War brings me no joy, Ms. Barrow." Not here. Not when every corner is a threat, every guard a false allegiance, the Nortan crown caging me better than any prison bars. "There's no point to it."

"Of course not." Her lip wobbles. "I can't–" She grips the window, clutching hard enough to snap her fingers on it. "I can't say goodbye." After seven months of silence and isolation, there shouldn't be anything left to break. But break she does, spilling onto the floor and laying there. "The last he hears of me will be that I fucked his brother." My abilities locate her tears despite me, and I resist the urge to dry them. "He must hate me."

Silence, save for the howl of the wind outside. "I met him last night."

Mare stilled, eyes snapping to her with wild abandon. "You–" She rises, shaky, reaching for my hands. "You met him?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?" She grips me tighter, tight enough that I should pull away. But I don't. I stare her in the eye, unblinking as her shoulders shake. "What did Maven tell him?"

He told me to save you.

He told me to run.

I exhale. "He told me he loved you." My snake slithers over to her, butting against her hand. "And to stop making beheading jokes."

She tosses her head back, laughing for the first time. It's a wild, manic thing, full of desperate sadness. "Never change, Iris." She shakes her head. "Or do. Make the world a better place than you found it."

I smile, tilting my head. "Do you bite, Mare?"

Her head lolls. "Woof, woof."

"That's not an answer."

"It's all you're getting." She hums, back to her shredded curtains. "Leave."

I rise, about to go before she raises her voice again. "But I wouldn't mind you coming back." Her eyes glisten. "For the month before he–" She chokes. "He–"

"Ssshhh." I hold up a hand. "You don't have to say it."

Her eyes shine, grateful, and guilt twists my gut. She's a strange one, for certain, but even strange ones have their limits. I won't let Maven break her.

I owe her that, at least.

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