Red Ruse

Prologue

Evangeline

Not for the first time, Elara haunts my dreams.

Her face reflects in the blade, fractured, ever-gloating as I swing. Her head lies on the floor, but another has risen from her neck, whispers echoing through the quiet. You think you won't be next?

I don't answer, swinging again. Her mouth opens, catching the blade in her teeth. I push, straining against her grip, but all she does is laugh. You won, didn't you? She stares at me, and my breath catches. Now act like it.

I wake in a cold sweat.

The room comes into sharp focus, the metal accents gleaming in the starlight. Beside me, Elane snores, a soft rumble through her sleep. Half of me wants to wake her. Half of me wants to let her rest. Regardless, I slip my feet off the bed. I won't look at her when I don't even know myself.

The floor is cold against my toes, colder still as I peer out the window. I can't make out any stars through the clouds, nor feel the wind as it blows through the trees. All I have is darkness. All I have are my own thoughts.

"Eve?"

I don't move, still staring at the night sky. Elane's hand grazes my shoulder, tentative as I rest on the windowsill. My eyes flutter. "What is it, my love?" The words burn, and I don't know why. "Did I wake you?"

"A little." Elane turns me to face her, smoothing my nightgown. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes, a melancholic tug of lips. "But I don't want to sleep if you can't."

Of course. I reach for her hand, the delicate knob of her wrist, the rings on my bedside table quivering with something I can't put to words. I grip it tight. "It's . . . her."

Who, I don't know. Not when I have so many new enemies. But Elara is an easy one, as is Mare, both out of reach and the first long dead. It's been months since I left her head on my blade. Months since Mare fled with Maven into the night.

Elane tightens her grip on my shoulder, biting her lip as her beautiful brow furrows. "Your mother?" She chooses her words carefully. "Or Queen Anabel?"

"Both. Neither. I–" I yank away, breathing hard. "I killed her, you know? But it feels like she's still alive."

I don't have to say who. Not when I've muttered Elara's name in my sleep. Elane caresses the soft skin of my waist, resting her head in the crook of my neck. "Do you need a distraction?" Her breath is hot against my skin. "Or a willing ear?"

I close my eyes. "I don't know."

The wind whistles through the trees, a lilting, low hum. I clench my teeth, shaking. I have everything I ever wanted. Everything but . . .

What? What could I want? What could mean anything in this web I find myself in, in this game I've always played but swift grown tired of? I'm not rotting in a cell anymore. And I won't have to kill another queen.

Yet, a traitorous part of me whispers.

I straighten. "The wedding's in six months." My mouth grows sour. "And I haven't made a single crown."

Elane laughs, and my lips tug. Her hands slide down my arms, clasping in mine. "You can always start now."

I look down at our entwined fingers, my nerves finally settling. "Of course." I smile. "What better time?"

She grins, extricating from my back to sit in my lap. My fingers, now free, dance along her spine, bidding the rings at my bedside to link and weld together. A narrow thing, it doesn't suit a queen, but the accents do, ripping off the walls and weaving into a twist of flames. I'll replace them in the morning. For now . . .

The crown of rings nestles in a head of soft curls, a head of moonlit skin and starlit eyes. Elane touches a sharp edge, and for a moment, I fear she'll cut herself. "Eve." She flushes, a faint dust of gray. "You shouldn't have–"

I tilt her chin, pressing a kiss to her jaw. "You're my princess." My hands curl in hers again, and this time, I stay steady. "Even if no one knows it yet."

She smiles, soft and sad. "They know, Eve. And I'm glad of it."

My heart beats a little faster, my own crown floating just above my head. Elane reaches for it, clasping it with both hands. She draws back. "May I do the honors?"

I exhale, kneeling my head. "Of course. My princess."

The crown slides on the same as any headpiece, as any circlet or ornament that's briefly grazed my head. I wore one at the coronation, a sharp ring of black cutting across my forehead. No grander than Anabel's, of course, but no smaller either, as if she sensed my shaking loyalties and wished to reassure me. A year after Maven's, to the day, the hour, the minute.

It even fell on a Wednesday.

"Eve?"

I'd held Cal's hand on the way, however little I wanted to, waving to the ocean of nobles below. He'd trembled. So had I. A strange, foreign thing, but at least it didn't show. Didn't make its way to Maven, in whatever twisted way it could.

Far away, Elane bites her lip. "You can stand up now."

I straighten, and it almost slips off. Almost. I have too much grace to let it fall, too much grace to see it all end. Not now. I almost laugh. But I can't. Not even to Elane. I look down at my nightgown one last time, at the blue and white swirling against each other. My breath comes out in a sharp hiss. I can't look. I can't look.

"Eve."

I force my eyes to the glass, to the frame, to the mirror lit by dawn slowly streaming through the windows. My fingers curl in my skirt even tighter.

And in my reflection, Elara stares back.