Red Ruse

Chapter Twenty Nine

Mare

Gwendolyn finds me before I find her, stroking a blade as she steps out of the shadows. She's not as silent as Elane, yet the memory still strikes, a dull ache I know better than to linger on. I clear my throat. "Where have you been?" I tap the marble wall. "Besides Training, I mean."

"Not your concern." She waves a hand. "Our army is making terrific progress."

I stiffen. Our army. The words feel wrong, even if I've said them myself. "To what end, though?"

"Does it matter?" Her eyes snap to mine, and they cut to the bone. "Strength and power, Ambassador Barrow." She smiles, a Silver thing of tooth and fang. "Soon to be Queen Mare."

The title chills me, a promise made threat. I am on a leash now, however golden, one wrong step from tightening to a noose. "Not really." My hand trembles despite myself. "Now that she's back."

I don't have to say who, not when her presence hangs over us all. Gwendolyn sheaths the blade with a sigh. "Artemy never liked her. Thought she was the worst of his family, however stiff the competition."

"Good for him." My voice holds no mirth. "If only that mattered."

She hardens, glaring, nails tapping the wall as if to make it shriek. "Don't test me, Barrow. You're not queen yet."

"We'll see about that." My hands rake through my hair, mussing each perfectly coiffed curl. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Someone high enough to grant you favors? Sorry to break it to you, but I have new strings now."

Her voice falls to a hush. "Then we cut them." A bit of armor tears off and spins in her palm. "Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

I swallow. "I know you want revenge." My hand hovers over the metal, just out of reach of the blades. "I know you think you can use me."

Her palm snaps shut. "Perhaps." There's not a shred of shame to her. "What has happened, exactly?"

My fingers tremble as I rush through it, eyes darting every which way. There's no telling what she'll make of me. No telling whether she'll cast me aside.

A beat passes as she studies me, tip, tap, tapping the wall. "We're both in danger, then." Her voice takes on a strange edge. "She threatened me when I visited Evangeline's cell."

We stare at each other, unmoving, neither willing to yield ground to the other. I clear my throat. "What do you propose?" A step forward. "Elara's a whisper. She'll see anything we hide from her."

Gwendolyn looks away, fixating on the portrait behind me. I turn around to find one of the many Calore kings staring back at me, a young queen at his side. Black hair and honey-brown eyes, she wears a military uniform instead of a gown.

And then I notice her house colors.

Gwendoln's words are slow, methodical. "Do you know how far the Lerolan estate is?"

My fists curl into my skirt. "She'll follow me." The nightmares tug at my periphery, and it takes all I have not to choke. "And if she won't, he will."

Her hand feathers along my arm, searching. "Then you stay here, until we can get you out."

I yank away, scowling. "How long will that be?" The tears rise despite myself, despite all that depends on me staying strong. "And who's 'we'?"

"Your newbloods." She steadies my shoulder, staring me straight in the eye. "Elara won't set foot near Anabel, not when she has you and Evangeline to worry about."

I exhale. "What of my mind?" I grit my teeth, blinking back another round of tears. "I'll be lucky if I make it through the month."

She shrugs. "Then we strike before then."

"What part of 'she'll follow me' don't you understand?" My shoulders tremble, and the tears finally fall. "Get the newbloods out of here. And don't look back."

A red queen. A red ruin. I will be a cautionary tale, if I'm lucky, and a demon if I'm not.

Maybe I can even be a martyr.

Silence stretches between us, taut and ready to snap. Her fingers knot in mine and don't let go, her eyes so fierce I have to look away. "Do you know what Maven did to Evangeline?"

I pause. The last few days have been a haze, blurred by dreams and pain and the ever-present ache of regret. I remember little more than the announcement, how I was forced to stand next to him and solidify our engagement. There'd been uproar, of course, but that's Elara's problem now. I shrug. "I assume she isn't dead."

"She walks among us, restrained only by a circle of Arvens." Darkness flickers across her face. "And her new bracelet."

That catches my attention. "What, is it too plain for her?"

She doesn't laugh. "Do you know what silent stone is?"

"Of course." I scoff. "I've been to the dungeons, you know." I study her fingers, moon-pale and spotless, edged in nails that are shorn, yet not bitten. "Where do you think Maven puts his fiancees?"

I expect a chuckle, at the very least, but Gwendolyn only shakes her head. "I can make one for you, you know. To keep her from prying." Her grip loosens, but her gaze does not. "A silent stone bracelet."

I still. Lightning sparks in my hand as if on instinct, weaving a small grid in my palm. I swallow. "You think that'll stop her?"

She sighs. "It's the only choice we have."

I sharpen. "And what do you get out of this?"

A beat passes.

Her gaze wanders to the window. "You think he'd run with you, if you asked?"

Sparks jump from my hand and singe the floor, almost setting fire to the carpet. "No." My vision blurs, yet my eyes are dry. "Not in this lifetime."

The tip, tap, tapping, returns, this time on the portrait frame. Her eyes blaze. "Then we take him."

"Huh." I tremble, hands more spark than skin. "An interesting proposal."

She pulls out a velvet pouch, letting it dangle by one finger. "I have the key." A sharp exhale. "Put it on, Barrow. We'll work out the rest later."

I stare at her, unmoving, finally snatching it when my lightning calms enough for me to grasp it. A faint sketch of a plan forms in the back of my mind. Maven would make a good hostage.

But he would make a better corpse.