Bleeding Heart [a Red Queen fanfic]

chapter seven.

I trail after my father and brother and the security gaurds, heading for the place where my father stays whenever he's here for work. This street's a little better than the last one –the road isn't so cracked and there isn't any glass underfoot– but that's not what's on my mind. Instead, the image of the Red boy I saw only moments earlier fills my thoughts.

I've seen Reds before, of course. All the time. It's not like they're some rare, special creature; quite the opposite, in fact. So why was I so enraptured and amazed by that boy? Why did it seem to take everything I had in me to look away?

Why is he still lingering in my mind?

Okay, maybe it was the fact that he was rather attractive. Very attractive, actually. Lyra would've even called him gorgeous. Floppy, soft-looking hair falling over his forehead, so dark in the gloomy light it looked almost black. Wide-set eyes peeking out from his angular, high-cheekboned face. He was too far away for me to be able to tell what color they were exactly but I think I caught a glimmer of greenish gold as they looked into mine. I remember now there being a little girl with him, holding onto his hand. She was looking at me too, but I hadn't even noticed her at the time, because all of my attention was on him. We couldn't have locked eyes for more than a moment but it seemed like an eternity before my father called me away. I find myself wondering what his name is, where he is now, what he's doing...

I run into someone's back and jolt back to reality.

"Gods," Beckett says, stepping away. He peeks over his shoulder at me. "Daydreaming, Bren?"

I feel myself blush, and no matter how hard I try to hide it, it stays. I struggle for words, but before I can get them out, Beckett chuckles. "You're turning into one of those lovestruck girls, aren't you? Let me guess: Alexander Calore."

"No!" I exclaim, feeling my cheeks heat even more. But this time, it's because of surprise rather than embarrassment. Queenstrial hasn't crossed my mind in ages, and I'm definetely not lovestruck –for Alexander Calore or for anyone else. I try to push the image of the Red boy's shining eyes out of my head.

"Sure," he singsongs, reaching over to ruffle my hair, even though it's all drawn up on top of my head. "Little Brennie's got a crush, hasn't she? Hoping she'll end up as the princey's wife?"

"Stop that," I snap. "You'll ruin my hair. And no, I do not have a crush. I've never even met him, remember? And I refuse to be one of those girls," I add, remembering my conversation with Lyra about this only days earlier. Before Beckett can say anything more, I push past him and hurry up the steps to the door of my father's temporary little house. It's actually really not that little and is definitely a lot bigger and better than the Red houses around us, but it's much smaller and plainer than what I'm used to seeing. At the moment, though, I don't really care. All I want is to get away, away from the heat and away from my brother's teasing and away from this strange, unfamiliar place and away from the thoughts of the beautiful boy who refuses to leave my head.

♥  ♡  ♥

It's dusk by the time I push my way into the tiny cottage I call home. Hannah chatters behind me, her voice full of innocent happiness. She's still excited about the Nolle girl we saw; she spent the whole way home talking about her dress and how she'd love to have a dress like that and how beautiful she was and why can't Katelyn braid her hair up like that?

"Zave?" Katelyn calls from the direction of the kitchen. She appears in one of our mother's old aprons, with the scent of bread and cheese on her. "Hey," she greets. "Got those boots?"

I nod, but before Katelyn can say anything else, Hannah rushes forward. "Katey! Zavier and I saw a High House girl!"

"A High House girl? Wow!" Katelyn pulls on a smile for Hannah, ruffling her hair, but then turns to me with a crease between her eyebrows. "Queenstrial's starting early this year, is it?"

I shrug, placing my bag down on the floor and starting to take off my new boots. "I suppose so."

"Which House?" she asks, her eyes landing on me. There are shadows like bruises underneath them, earned from far too many nights spent awake. Although I am only nineteen minutes younger than her, she's always seemed so much older than me, particularly since the death of our parents.

"Nolle." I finally tug them off and stand again. "The girl was Lord Nolle's daughter. Brenna, I think I heard them call her." Saying the Silver girl's name brings memories flooding back. She's another one of them; her people are the reason for our suffering and poverty, her people enslave and break mine just because of the colour of our blood doesn't match up. I should have been disgusted, furious. I should be irritated just speaking about her. But I wasn't and I'm not. When I saw her, the feeling that ran through me was horribly close to something I can't allow myself to feel, especially not for a monster.

Stop thinking about it, Zavier. She's nothing to you, my mind whispers. But the calm, clear blue of her eyes stays, stamped into my memories, no matter how much I try to shake it off.

I snap back to attention when I realize Katelyn is speaking. "-heard somewhere he was bringing his family here sooner for it," she says. It takes me a second to figure out what she's talking about. Queenstrial, the wonderful tradition of choosing a princess for the king's precious son. Most Reds don't know anything about it, and we wouldn't either if our mother hadn't worked as a palace maid before she returned to the Stilts to live out a normal Red life with my father. She used to tell us stories all the time, even right before she died. I never wanted to hear them –my hatred of Silvers seems to have started way back when I was only a boy– but Katelyn was always strangely enchanted with them. Some of my most vivid childhood memories are of watching my mother and sister sitting by the fire, the flickering light and shadows of the flames falling over their faces, as Mom whispered tales that seemed too amazing and too terrifying to be true. Tales of people who could urge the grass to grow with a word or throw knives through the air with just the power of their minds, of girls who could turn blood to ice and princes who could set things on fire with their fingers. Whenever Katelyn asked why these people could do such things, Mom would answer with a single word.

"Silver."

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hey. so i finally updated -i'm sorry i didn't before. i kept meaning to but didn't get the time to. anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter.

♥