Chapter 1

️ Mare Barrow ️

The cold steel iron of my collar bites into my neck, drawing bright, crimson blood as he yanks on my collar for all to see. I stumble onto my feet, dazed. How long had I been kneeling for? Fresh droplets of flaming blood streak down my throat when Maven pulls on my collar again. He clenches it so tightly, knuckles turning bone-white, as if weary of me running away. Even though my silencing guards are watching me from behind my shoulders like shadows, pooling their abilities into my already weak limbs. It takes all the energy I have to stay on my feet.

"Bare witness to the treacherous leader of the Scarlet Guard, Mare Barrow," Maven shouts over his cheering Silvers, all of whom are sneering and throwing insults at me. Leader of the Scarlet Guard? Perhaps Maven's lies will never cede.

I slowly begin to tune out his twisted speech of lies, letting the words jumble into one another, as I stare at all of the Silvers jeering before me. How could they possibly remain loyal to Maven even after I exposed the Silvers that were wasting away in Corros Prison? Maven harshly tears me out of my thoughts with another yank, causing more of my neck to seer with pain. As more droplets of scarlet blood pool onto the tiled marble floor beneath me, staining the pure white dress my guards forced me into, I can't stop the pride from pulsing through my veins. Now the colour of my blood will be known to the entire world. Mareena Titanos will forever be known as a lie. If only the other lies that the royal family fed everyone were brought into this light of clarity.

When jerking the chain doesn't bring back my attention, Maven kicks me in the leg, forcing me to look up into his all too familiar blazing blue gaze. They bore into me with great intensity, challenging me to look away. The corners of his thin lips curl into a malicious grin. I hold my scowl.

"Since a Red, always a Red," Maven continues his drawled speech. "She shall be punished in the same manner for brutally murdering my mother, the late Queen Elara of Norta, and for killing the honourable relatives of the High Houses," He pauses dramatically to shoot me a sneer, freezing me cold under his fierce blue eyes. Fear slowly begins to crawl up my spine, but I do all I can to keep my face unreadable. Maven smiles wickedly as he gestures for a buff Sentinel nearby to step forward. "Sentinel Rhambos," He nods. It takes me only a moment to notice the weapon in his hand.

"She shall be whipped fifteen times for the most respected, honourable Silvers of the High Houses that lost their lives in her attack, and another five times for my mother; this idea given my lovely betrothed. Even the strongest can be stricken down by the far more powerful might of Norta. Strength and Power!" Maven shouts, throwing a fist into the air while Evangeline slips her hand into his, claiming his other. All of the Silvers roar Norta's motto in response passionately, but are quickly drowned out by the loud buzzing in my skull. Sentinel Rhambos swiftly advances towards me, whip held tightly in his gloved fist.

"Hold her," Maven commands, glaring over my shoulder at guards standing behind me. Rough hands grasp me and force me downwards, knees and the side of my face pressed to the slick marble.

I twist my face upwards, chin scraping along the ground. If I am to be punished, I don't want to show weakness. I want to look my enemy straight in his eye. I want him to see me, untouched and rebelling against whatever weakness he is trying to paint me in.

"Norta!" Maven bellows, turning his proud face to view his collected subjects. "Watch how we avenge our queen and nobles!" He looks down his elegant nose at me, pressed to the floor at his feet. His eyes are full of contempt. I hold his gaze with angry, steely resolve.

You can't break me.

Maven's lips part. "One!"

I hear the sound before I feel the pain. The whip cracks, a sharp sound cleaving the air in two. Then-

Pain, unbearable pain, lances through me. I gasp, unable to contain the sound. The pain stings, like fire scoring marks down my back. It reminds me vaguely of the pain of lightning, and then the whip is bearing down once again, finding its mark. I buckle under the added layer of fresh agony. The pain is ebbing and growing through my body, increasing with every pulse.

Through the roaring pain in my head, I can faintly make out the Silver crowd jeering, clamouring for blood, Maven's voice counting out the third stroke as the whip begins to descend again.

I force my eyes upward, trying to hold onto his icy stare, but the whip cracks across the small of my back. Veins of fire burn across my skin as I let out a cry. Spots swim before my eyes, and the pain efflorescing from my back shoots through my spine. I drop my forehead to the ground, teeth grinding in agony.

"Four!"

The whip whistles and leaves another line of blazing torment smoldering across my shoulder blades. I muffle a scream, sealing my lips shut against a building wail. I will not allow Maven the satisfaction of seeing me weak and at his mercy.

"Five!"

Cold fire claps my torn skin. I don't realize I'm bleeding until I see the crimson drops spraying across the ground before my face from the lashing whip.

"Six!"

Another layer of agony I had never thought possible-

"Seven!"

How does it keep getting worse? How can it-

"Eight!"

Rivulets of blood run down my neck, pooling in my collarbones-

"Nine!"

The spots in my vision are dancing, chasing each other, growing in number-

"Ten!"

The whip strikes the back of my neck. A choked scream bursts from deep within my throat. The pain is so intense, I forget to show my iron face. The life drains from my limbs, and my palms slip in my blood as my head lolls forward.

The pain electrifies my body. It branches out from my neck, searing my flesh with scorching fetters. Spikes of iron bludgeon my head from the inside as my brain fills with fog. The sounds of the crowd baying and the sight of ruby blood staining the ground bleed into a deafening cacophony of agony. I can hear the whip being flung back, ready to come tearing down once again.

"Wait! Stop," The command comes in a smooth voice, but I don't miss the slight hitch in it. The crowned king of Norta lowers himself to one knee, inspecting the prisoner sprawled at his feet in a writhing, bloody heap. "Don't strike yet. I don't think she's well enough to feel the full brunt of force. The leader of the Scarlet Guard deserves the full pain she has caused this kingdom."

My fingers curl into fists on the ground. My breath is coming in hitched heaves, and when I exhale a cough, a spray of blood joins the river of crimson painted across the marble. Breathing sends sharp pangs of pain searing through my bruised lungs, and I'm hiccuping with sobs I had never intended to show before Maven. I hadn't even realized I was crying through the sheer pain. I want to wipe away my tears and hide my face, but my limbs are limp and stiff with aches.

"Did you think you were unbreakable, little lightning girl?" Maven whispers cruelly above me.

Anger rises in my chest. I don't give him the satisfaction of cowering before him. Instead, I crane my neck upwards, feeling every lash mark branded across my skin scream and tear open wider. I force myself to look straight into his cold, unforgiving eyes. A look of barely suppressed surprise crosses his face, but he forces his features into an unyielding mask, his eyes boring into me. The icy depths swim with malice, but when I look at him, something flickers through them-like a small fire blazing for an ephemeral moment beneath the dark ocean. What was it? Concern? Pity?

Regret?

Every inch of my body protests, but my blood roars with rebellion and runs with lightning. "I know I'm unbreakable." I hiss through gritted teeth. Then, gathering as much blood as I can in my mouth, I spit at him.

Maven recoils, leaping back as the redness he despises stains the front of his navy and gold tunic. When his eyes roll back to me, they darken. His jaw clenches, and a vein in his forehead throbs. He looks behind me at Sentinel Rhambos. He casts another disgusted look at me, taking in my dirty, bloodied, tear-streaked face. Glancing up, he nods at the strongarm.

"It seems that our little traitor is still well enough to show shameless disrespect. The punishment will be continued. Eleven!"

The Silver crowd cheers with bloodlust. The whip whistles through the air, and then-

I can't help it. I scream again. The whip leaves a tail of fire straight across the lash on my neck. Lightning shoots through the old wound as it's ripped open further.

"Twelve!"

This lash of pain makes my head spin and fills my brain with such a screeching roar that I almost don't hear myself cry out in a ragged, torn voice. More blood dribbles out of my mouth. The banshee shriek in my skull worsens. The lightning in my bones won't stop striking.

"Thirteen!"

I can feel fissures growing in my skull from the lightning trapped inside. My skin is burning away, all I see is blood-

"Fourteen!"

Voices running into each other, my bones don't stop screaming, THEY'RE SCREAMING-

"Fifteen!"

I CAN'T STOP THEM FROM SCREAMING, THEY KEEP-

"Six- wait, don't-!"

My world bleeds crimson, then ink.

My eyes fly open to blinding light. I squint, needles of pain stabbing through them. I feel disoriented, like I've just been jerked from the bottom of the ocean to the top of a mountain. An ache shudders through my body.

Then, I hear the whisper of the whip, carving through my flesh, and I remember everything in a careening lightning flash.

I whip my head around, taking in my surroundings, and suddenly am seized by a wave of pain from my protesting neck. A whimper sneaks through lips that feel swollen and too large. My eyes, which feel puffy and irritated, water with the pain. My already harshfully bright world melts into blurry streaks. I cough, and agony clutches my lungs and chest. My vocal cords feel shredded.

I breathe slowly, fighting to inhale through my tightening, bruised chest. Trying only to move my eyes, I make out a narrow, barred window in the upper corner of a stone wall, the only source of light that my swollen eyes perceived as harsh. I find myself in a stiff bed, covered in a thin white blanket. I try to move my hand to massage the ache in my shoulder, but find it unable to move. I rotate my wrists, and discover cold manacles binding my hands to my sides. Some more wriggling reveals manacles on my elbows, upper arms, ankles, shins and knees, keeping me imprisoned to the bed.

I sigh, a twinge of pain following soon after. My eyes sweep the dim room I'm being held in, and a thrill of terror spikes through me.

Maven reclines in a chair at the foot of my bed, swaddled in shadows. His dark hair is artfully arranged in soft waves that fall over his face. A single piercing, cerulean eye is trained on me. The cold appraisal in it turns my blood to ice. I try to keep the shock and fear from showing, but something must have registered on my face. Maven's lips turn upwards slightly.

"Are you just going to sit there and watch me?" he asks smoothly.

You were the one watching me all this time. I keep my lips pressed together. I will not respond and let the quiver in my voice betray my emotions.

Maven keeps his eye on me. "No? Not going to talk, are we?" he goads. He suddenly lets his chair fall forward and stands upward in a swift, graceful motion. I flinch slightly. Maven laughs. Okay, perhaps not so slightly. The thought of him scaring me and enjoying it fills my veins with anger like molten iron-strong and deadly.

The king strides towards me and stands over me, glaring continuously. I realize he's trying to intimidate me. I defiantly face him, fighting the pain in my throat from twisting my neck. I don't waver my gaze from his eyes, even though I can feel the frost creeping in my veins.

"You're being held in a room of silent stone, just so you know."

I figured.

"You passed out."

Tell me something I don't know.

"The whip cut through your shirt, so I've had you cleaned up and got your lacerations stitched. You're not healed, because you don't deserve to forget the pain you've caused my kingdom. Right now, you're as clean as a filthy Red like you can be."

Really, Your Highness? Filthy? Does a son who turned on his father and brother for a ring of metal not ring a bell when you say 'filthy'?

"You still owe Norta, the queen, and the high nobles justice and the fulfillment of your penance. Four strokes, and the added five for disrespecting the king. It will be carried out as soon as tomorrow, and will be witnessed by the palace court and broadcast for all of Norta. Including your filthy Red family and backstabbing Scarlet Guard friends."

I continue to watch him, bating my breath to surreptitiously relieve the pain. Maven frowns, a fine crease between his eyebrows deepening. My silence is frustrating him. Good.

"Oh, come on. You won't even talk to your betrothed, little lightning girl?"

I flinch at this. Maven mockingly widens his eyes.

"Oh? Did I just hit a nerve? I didn't know the little lightning girl had weaknesses."

I grind my teeth together in frustration, stubbornly sealing my mouth shut. I will not give him the satisfaction of hearing my voice, which is probably ragged and raspy from disuse. Instead, narrowing my eyes at the sadistic boy king, I clench my jaw, willing the clear defiance pulsing through my veins to show through my eyes. Maven raises his dark brows, tilting his head slightly like a puppy, then twists his mouth into a grin, clucking his tongue like I'm a child to be scolded.

"Still nothing? Who knew whipping someone could turn them mute," he teases pleasantly, taunting me with his piercing, cold eyes. "No matter. You will talk eventually, whether it be during your whipping or during your interrogation. I suppose that's for you to decide."

Interrogation? No, no, no-

Folding his arms behind his back, Maven glides across my cell and towards the door dramatically, letting an uneasy silence settle between us. Turning slightly, I recognise an all too familiar wicked smile plastered across his pale face, his canines glinting in the dim lighting.

"Did you really think you would remain my prisoner without a simple interrogation? Did you really believe I was going to spare you of this?" Maven pushes out a strange laugh, intending it to be natural, but sounding anything but. It sounds like he thinks that's how a laugh is supposed to be. "I thought you were a lot smarter than this, little lightning girl, but perhaps I was wrong."

How surprising.

"Your interrogation will kindly be done by one of my most faithful Merandus cousins," he continues, striding back to my bed. His steps are light and agile like a cat's, barely making any noise. As much as I want to keep my face adamantly impassive, fear radiates from me in powerful waves. He seems to bask in my terror with relish. I almost imagine him to lick his lips. "Who it is, I can't say. That's a pleasant surprise for you to discover."

I grind my teeth so hard that I'm sure they'll turn to powder-anything to stop myself from retorting something I know I'd regret. Finally, I scowl openly in his face, feeling the tell-tale urge to spit at his wretched smirk and wipe it clean off his face. The King of Norta swiftly strides towards my bed and lowers his face to my level, nearly brushing his lips on my ear. My fists clench tightly, fingers biting into the palm of my hand. The strain sends a shiver of pain stabbing through my shoulder.

"Everybody has a breaking point, Mare," he whispers calmly, his cold breath washing over the right side of my face, making my skin crawl. It is the first time he has addressed me by my actual name. "It's only a matter of time before you reach yours."

I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to tear his laughing eyes out of their sockets. I want to scratch that smile off his face. I want to kill him. So. Badly. I hiss at Maven's ghostly face, scoffing. He flinches only slightly, probably expecting a spray of spit on his precious, kingly little face.

"So scared of a little, powerless Red girl, Your Highness?" I sneer, unable to hold back any longer. As expected, my voice comes out ragged and raspy from my raw throat. A tiny throb passes through my fingers, but I barely register the fact that I've been scratching at my rough bed from utter hatred. Maven's mask cracks slightly, betrayed by his open scowl. Bright embers burn in his blazing, molten gaze, a storm of contempt smoldering blue.

Taking a deep breath and sealing his unyielding mask tightly, Maven forces out a chuckle instead, straightening his steel spine and whipping out a ring of keys. "I was about to take off some of those metal straps from you to give you some breathing space, so you know," he says simply, jingling them in my face idly. "But I suppose you prefer to keep them on. Fine by me."

Maven strides to a heavily secured door in the far wall, tucking the ring of keys away. He turns back to me. "I suggest you rest up. Tomorrow's going to be a big day for you. Sweet dreams, little lightning girl." With that, the boy playing at king exits my cell.

I turn my face into my pillow, despite the wrench of pain in my shoulders and neck. Now that I'm alone, I can finally expel the tempest building inside me.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and cry.