"I can save you", he whispers through the bars. Blue eyes I once thought soft are now hard and intense. In the adjacent cell, Cal watches us mutely, fists clenched at his sides.
I try to tug my wrist out of Maven's grasp, but he is too strong. With the Silent Stone suffocating my lightning, I'm nothing but a weak girl. After finally getting used to being special, suddenly being normal again makes me sick.
"You're a murderer, Maven" I hiss with as much venom as I can muster. "You killed your father and made your brother a weapon. The crown you wear is cursed, and I want no part of it."
He lets go and I stumble backwards just beyond his reach. Slowly, his hands retreat to his pockets. He keeps his eyes on mine though, studying me. A hint of sneer tugs at his mouth as he cocks his head to one side.
"Ah yes, my brother," he snarls at Cal, who remains stoic. "It's funny how often we come back to him, isn't it? Don't kid yourself, Mare, Cal was always a weapon." He stalks, cat-like, in front of Cal's cage. "A good soldier is never more than a weapon, after all." He stops and glares into his brother's face. "You would never be king."
Cal moves without warning, snatching through the bars at Maven's collar. Maven's eyes barely have time to widen before his face connects with the metal. I wince at the yelp of pain that follows. Instinctively, I rush to the bars as he stumbles back from us, clutching as his face.
"Maven?" I question, peering into the dim shadows at his cracked skull. He is panting, slightly doubled over with his hand over his left eye. Silver blood oozes between his fingers as he focuses once more on me.
"I am king, I can do anything," he says, more to himself it seems than to me. "Be my Red Queen, Mare." A slight inflection in his voice at my name feels almost like a breathless plea. Almost.
I hesitate. Unwanted memories suddenly assault me. Dancing at the ball, feeling like we were the only two in the room. Riding into the city for the first time, Maven excitedly pointing out his favourite childhood spots. His lips on mine.
I shake my head to clear that last memory. Maven's good eye darkens as he mistakes the gesture.
"Then die."
With a deep gasp of air, I bolt upright in bed. I blink rapidly to dispel the fog of the nightmare. No, that's not how it happened, I tell myself sternly. Every night the nightmare returns, and every night it is different. Sometimes I break through the Silent Stone's hold and fry Maven alive. Sometimes it's Cal on the other side of the bars, and Maven is in the cage next to mine. Sometimes I say yes.
His lips on mine... that memory, it seems, is determined to stay exactly as it was. Warm and passionate, tinged with a desperation I didn't understand at the time. Now I do. He knew just how little time we had left.
"Bastard," I whisper, gripping the rough blanket in my hands.
A groan and a movement startle me as the body next to me rolls over. "Really, Mare, there's no need for name-calling. Get your own blanket." My brother, Shade, tugs his blanket out of my startled hands and, tightly wrapping himself up like a cocoon, sighs back into sleep.
I gulp, willing my heart rate to slow down and my sleepy brain to get with it. I am safe, I am with my family, it is okay. Quietly, I shift of the makeshift cot, trying not to wake anyone else. On my other side, Gisa lets out an unladylike snore and mutters some gibberish. Peering through the darkness, I see only three sleeping forms. My mother and other two brothers must already be on duty.
I creep to the edge of our hovel and grab my boots on my way out. Just before leaving, I turn back to take one look at my sleeping relatives. I repeat my mantra silently. I am safe, I am with my family, it is okay.
Outside, the ground is cold and crunchy, bitten with frost. It is mid-winter now, and the Northern woods are stricken with it. I shiver in my thin clothes and reach back inside for my shawl. A heavy canvas flap that is all that separates our new home from the elements and I tug it tightly back into place before continuing on my way.
It must be around seven, I realize, noticing the pale hint of sunlight at the base of the horizon. I will be early for my shift. The thought makes me pause in my tracks. I actually have time for breakfast this morning. I abruptly turn on my heel and head the other direction.
It has been three months since I survived my execution. About two and a half months since we first came here to the Northern woods. After we had unwittingly betrayed the original location of the rebel home base to our enemy, we had to make a hasty getaway. Maven's soldiers were already there when our train stopped and we were immediately thrown into another battle for our lives. We brought as many Red survivors and supplies as we could find, the ancient runes blazing around us as we ran. Two weeks of travel on foot brought us to base camp two, in the Northern forest owned by no country. Our timing was perfect, as access to the woods becomes impassable in winter. Even if Maven and his witch of a mother figure out where we are, they won't be able to do anything about it until spring. I smile grimly at the thought. They probably wouldn't expect us to survive until spring.
The Northern woods are owned by no country for a reason. They are wild, thick, and hostile. Winter hits hard here, harder than should be possible, given the geographical location. Jagged mountains surround the woods like Maven's sharp crown, forming a dark, shaded valley that is untouched by warmth for most of the year. The wildlife here has been protected in it's seclusion and beasts dwell here that I thought had long passed into myth. The land may be fertile but since it is frozen most of the time, it does little good. Only the truly desperate would make a home here.
The smell hits me first as I stroll into the "kitchen". The kitchen is an open area surrounded by a tall, fort-like fence. The fence is to keep out the bears, mostly. Inside, small huts have been erected over cooking fires to keep the weather from putting them out. In the centre, a few early risers are seated at rough wooden tables, bent over whatever is going to pass for breakfast this morning.
I glance around the cooking huts, looking for my mother. She is on cooking duty this morning. I spot her near the back, ladling some chunky liquid into a clay bowl. I grimace at the sight of the food but head over that direction anyway. It's not my mother's cooking that's terrible, it's what she has to work with. None of the other huts will be offering anything better.
"Hey, mom," I greet her as I approach, a smile fixed on my face despite the aroma coming from the pot. She looks up mid-ladle, startled.
"Mare, what are you doing here?" she looks justifiably confused. I am not a morning person and even less of a breakfast person. I'm more the make-it-to-work-barely-on-time-with-my-shoes-on-the-wrong-feet kind of person.
"Couldn't sleep," I say, accepting the bowl she presses into my hands. Her face clears, understanding that at least.
"The same nightmare?" she asks quietly, returning to the pot. I nod, even though it's not exactly true. After accidentally waking up the family several times in the middle of the night, I told them I kept having nightmares about the execution, fighting for my life in the pit. Which is near the truth. It makes more sense than the truth. Why I keep dreaming of the last time I spoke with Maven is beyond me. You'd think the whole near death experience thing would be a greater trauma.
I clear my throat. "So anyway," I say brightly. "I thought I would come sample breakfast today." She casts a woeful, apologetic look at the bowl in my hands and my heart sinks a bit. But I keep the smile in place as I swallow the stuff. It tastes like stewed bark mulch. Glancing down at the bowl, I think it might just be.
More sleepy rebels are lining up at the huts now, and my mother gets busy, filling bowls and greeting everyone by name. Everyone knows everyone here. Since she's busy, I glance around at the growing crowd, my thoughts shifting. I see one of the rebels on guard duty at one of the far huts, putting a bowl of food on a tray. I realize with a jolt that is probably Cal's breakfast. At least they're feeding him...
I haven't seen Cal since we came to the Northern woods. I stayed close to him while we travelled, making sure he wasn't mistreated, but he was taken from me when we arrived. Farley won't let me see him. She tells me he is being treated as well as can be expected, but will not specifically promise me they are not torturing him. I don't know where they are keeping him, but if that guard is bringing him his breakfast...
Slowly, I rest my spoon in my half-empty bowl and slide off the bench. The guard doesn't appear to be watching for followers. After all, who else would care about the broken prince? The guard turns and heads out the entrance, unaware that he is being followed. Electricity tingles in my fingertips in excitement. Cal... I could be moments away from seeing him again.
I make it halfway to the gate before a red blockade parks herself in front of me. I curse quietly in dismay as I stare into Farley's frowning face. She looks extra grumpy today. Maybe she's not a morning person either.
"Going somewhere, little lightning princess?" she asks, sarcastically. I grimace inwardly at the new twist on the old nickname, but my feelings don't show on the surface. I arrange my features into what I a hope passes for bored non-nonchalance.
"Just my shift at the power plant, Captain Farley, sir," I mutter, moving to pass her. She gracefully steps in my path again. I step back and cross my arms, irritated and showing it now. I don't know what her problem is. Ever since we got here she has been keeping me away from Cal, from her plans, from news of King Maven and his new monarchy. Instead of being part of the team, I have been pushed to the back of the crowd. I have my shift work at the power plant, and I participate in combat training with all the other Reds, but I am kept out of the loop in every important aspect. What do they think I'm going to do, break Cal out of here? What good would that accomplish? I just want to know he's alright.
"Is there a problem, Farley?" I ask sharply. My foot taps against the frozen earth.
She searches my face for a moment, deciding something. "The plant will have to do without you, today," she says finally. "You're coming with me."
My foot stops. "Where? Why?"
Her mouth tightens a moment before replying. "Your prince wants to see you."