Red Ruse

Chapter Thirty Five

Maven

Don't make me kill her.

The words rip through me as I grip Mare's shoulders, as the pleas fall from my lips and shatter on the floor. As my handkerchief stains with her blood once more, no longer Evangeline's but my own mother's doing. I can't save her. Not as I am. Not as the person whose wrists she grabs like an anchor. Not good enough.

I have to let her go. Have to swallow back every tear, every wayward breath, every second I spend struggling in Mother's grip. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

To both of them. To my own foolish heart, trapped in a hell of its own making. My hand tightens on Mother's shoulder, then her hand, surrendering to my fate. I am not built for anyone but her. I am not built for anything but a crown.

I kneel my head. Around us, heat rises, and I almost mistake it for my own. Almost.

And then Mother's portrait goes up in flames.

I stagger back, eyes flickering from the fire to those standing beside me. Mare still sits against the wall, barely breathing. Mother stares at me and shakes her head. "Maven–"

"It's not mine." The words rush out, even if she must already know them. "I don't have my flamemakers."

Red blood pools in droplets at my feet, little flecks of pain and misery. My fists clench, but the flames rise higher, caught in the wake of someone else's ability. I exhale, shaky. "Get out of here." The words quiver, but I force steel behind them. "I can't make it stop."

Mother closes her hand around my arm, but I jerk back. She grits her teeth. "No." The words drip off her like poison. "You get out of here. I'll kill him where he stands."

Cal.

Behind us, Mare staggers upright, neck a mess of blood and torn flesh. I have one chance. One choice. One option left, no matter how it pains me.

I grab her hand and run.

Red and orange flood the hall, casting shadows deep enough to swallow. The scent of burning canvas assaults me as ash falls, as Mare struggles to keep up as I force her forward. She heaves. "Did you–"

"No time." I don't look at her, dismissing every guard I come across. "Can you make it to the train?"

I don't know what I'm doing. Why I can't stop trembling, sweating, panting, weakness I should've long excised from my body.

How many times have you not told me?

She coughs. "I don't–" Blood coats her lips. "I don't think I can."

And then her eyes flutter shut.

I catch her as she collapses, all blood and tired limbs. Her body hangs limp, heavy, so heavy I have to haul her in my arms. Heat floods my icy skin, the creep of danger. My fists clench. Against my better judgment, I feel for the source. Against my better judgment, I try to smother the flames.

And then they flare even higher.

I glance behind me and wince. It's just a portrait. Just paint and gilded wood. Still, it burns to see Mother's face go up in flames, to see the canvas turn to smoke and ash. I bite my lip.

In my arms, Mare heaves.

I thank the stars for Training as I sprint down the hall, almost tripping on the air beneath me. My instincts scream for me to drop her, and I hold her even tighter. Her breath hitches, a soft murmur. "Maven." I almost lose my grip. "Maven, what are you–"

"Not now," I hiss. The door parts with a flick of my wrist, a guard greeting me on the other side. I raise my voice. "Where's the train?"

She clears her throat. "House Welle has occupied the area. And Samos seems to be joining them."

I curse. Evangeline. Never content to stay in her place. "Cut a path, then." My words crack like a whip. "I assume you know how."

She grits her teeth, then nods. I look at her badge. Marinos. Banshee. Someone taps my shoulder, and I spin around, only to find Rane Arven's eyes burning back at me. "Put her down."

"No."

He shakes his head. "She's a hazard. She'll only slow you down."

"She's my queen, and you will treat her as such." My lip threatens to tear from how hard I'm biting it. "Red blood or not."

He opens his mouth, about to retort.

And then a blade embeds in the side of his neck.

I whip around, barely breathing, another blade piercing the banshee in the heart. Gwendolyn Samos stares me down, a trio of newbloods beside her. Nix, Ketha, Lory: Ironskin, bomber, and sensor.

My lips twist to a sneer. "Lady Samos." I twitch. "I thought you were better than this."

Another blade strikes the wall behind me. "Your Majesty." Her voice holds no warmth. "I suggest you come with us."

I laugh. "And why would I do that?"

A swish rings in my ear, pain blooming in its wake. I touch it and come back with blood. "I don't understand." My breath hitches. "They hunted you down, killed your lover, married you off–

"They did." Gwendolyn hurls another blade, scowling. "But I'm not running with them."

My ear throbs, but I force a chuckle. "My, my, my. So many traitors tonight." Mare stirs in my arms, and I tighten my grip. "I don't suppose you want my queen."

Her eyes flicker to her neck. "How long have you let her bleed?"

The air, already feverish from the flames, heats to a furnace. I glance down, fingers digging into ruined ruffles. Red coats her bodice, seeping through the taffeta, her face so pale she might as well be Silver. "I made you, Lady Samos, and I can unmake you."

"Hand her over." She extends a hand. "She needs a healer."

"Yes." I burn, stepping back. "Now get out of the way."

"You think you can make it in time?" Gwendolyn laughs, dark and humorless. "Come with us. We'll bring you back when the coast is clear."

A hand tugs my shirt, and I jolt. Mare's voice comes out in a hiss. "Maven, if you have any brains–"

"Where's your healer then, if you're so insistent?" I glance behind me, at the throne room crumbling before my eyes. A column lies in pieces on the floor, the throne melted beyond repair. I swallow. "Is it some Newblood I've never met?"

"No." Gwendolyn gestures to Lory, and she nods. "Someone Silver. Someone your Mother hated, and agreed to help us if we helped her."

I step back again, almost tripping on the ruined tile. "Do you always speak in riddles?" My heart races. "I'm getting Wren. Scram." My voice lowers. "Or hit me, if you so dare."

She hesitates.

And then Ketha lobs an explosion at my head.

I stagger back, grip slipping, Mare tumbling from my arms and crashing to the floor. Silver floods my vision, pain at the back of my head. Lory claps her hands over her ears. Gwendolyn reaches for me, hand closing around my arm.

It's the last thing I see before it all goes black.