His Red Queen

Chapter Thirteen - Cal

Mare's screams pierce the air. In an instant, I am on my feet, pounding my fists on the door. Silent stone manacles keep me from using my ability. If not for them, I would have burned this place to the ground two weeks ago and taken her with me.

Those damn Arven guards.

I can't see what they're doing to her; the only window in my room is looking over the ocean, reminding me that the drop from up here would be fatal.

My fists meet the wood paneling of the door as I hear a thud.

Silence.

"Mare!" I yell her name. "Mare!" But no one can hear me. My knuckles sting but that doesn't matter. I hit the door until my hands bleed and silver blood paints the formerly pristine wood. The metallic smell of my own blood fills the room.

And still, I call her name out and hit the door until I hear someone outside the hall.

Maven's voice is muffled but I can hear enough from him. "Get a healer."

What have they done to her?

Eventually, the hall grows quiet. I slump down onto the bed and stare at this morning's breakfast on the table, now cold and hours old.

Maven did it. He got Mare to marry him. I'm now his prisoner.

Now, I rot away in a guest room of my mother's favorite palace. Every day is a sharp reminder that at any moment my little brother can order my execution. And what's worse than that is the fact that Mare married him and is now an even bigger pawn in his game than she was before.

Her choice made enough logical sense it me. If I were in the position that she was, I would have accepted an offer of protection for myself and those dear to me. She tried to protect me but Maven is not that kind. He wants her to hurt me.

The door swings open and Maven walks in.
I try to get a glimpse of the hall but it's useless. He shuts the door too quickly.

He pulls a chair into the middle of the room and sits. No guards accompany him. What is he thinking? Is he really that foolish?

I wish that there was some sort of pain or remorse on his face but there is none.

"You're bleeding," is all he says.

I wipe my bloodied knuckles on my pants which makes him cringe. "Yes."

"Been getting a lot of thinking done here, haven't you?"

"What did you do to her?" It takes everything in me not to get up and knock him senseless.

He waves a hand dismissively. "I didn't do anything. It was my loyal guards who...silenced her."

My fist meets his face and he falls off his chair like a rag doll. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, I pull him up to face me. "What. Did. They. Do. To. Mare?"

He spits at me. "She's alive if that's what's bothering you. Though I doubt I need to share that information with my prisoner."

His spunk fails to abandon him even now. He wipes the blood off of his face, a disgusted expression on as he does so. "I'll send you a skin healer. Your hands look bad."

For a second Maven is nearly recognizable. I see the little brother who was scared of the dark and who would follow me around when we were children. The boy who cried when he was sad. Not this...this monster that Elara created.

"Maven."

"What?" He snarls.

"This is not you." I gesture around my cell. "You never would do theses things. Forget what she put in your head!"

"It's not that simple," he grumbles. "Love makes you weak."

"No it does not!" My voice is strained from yelling.

He shoves me and stands. Without a word, he leaves.

———

A few days go by and my solitude eats away at me like a parasite on it's unfortunate host. Maven visits sometimes but says nothing. Now he brings a guard with him, sending waves of silence so strong that even Maven has to leave after five minutes.

He says nothing about Mare. The guards say even less, never deigning to tell me if she is actually alive like Maven claimed.

And I know she hasn't passed by my door. I'd usually hear when she was out there in the hall.

Her whispered apologies.
Her arguing with the guards to let her in.
None of that these past three days.

Bored out of my mind, I go to the bookshelf. I used to read all the time. Usually battle strategies and histories but none of that is here. There's an old journal, though. Opening it reveals its owner:

Coriane Calore