Picking up on page 260 of Red Queen
Mare POV:
"Elara, you have to get Maven out of here," I tell her. "Don't worry about me, just keep him safe."
"Oh, don't you fret, little lightning girl," she sneers. "I don't think about you at all. Though your loyalty to my son is quite inspiring. Isn't it, Maven?" She tosses a glance over her shoulder to her son, still shackled.
In response, his arms snap out, pulling apart the metal shackles with shocking ease. They melt off his wrists in globs of hot iron, burning holes in the floor. When he rises to his feet, I expect him to defend me, to save me like I'm trying to save him. Then I realize Arven still has hold of me, and the familiar feel of sparks, of electricity, has not returned. He's still holding me back, even though he let Maven go.
When Cal's eyes meet mine, I know he understands much better than I do. Anyone can betray anyone echoes louder and louder, until it howls in my ears like the winds of a hurricane.
"Maven?" I have to look up to see his face, and for a second, I don't recognize him. He's still the same boy, the one who comforted me, kissed me, kept me strong. My friend. More than my friend. But something is wrong in him. Something has changed. "Maven, help me up."
He rolls his shoulders, cracking the bones to chase away an ache. His motions are sluggish and strange, and when he settles back on his feet, hands on his hips, I feel like I'm seeing him for the first time. His eyes are so cold.
"No, I don't think so."
"What?" I hear my voice like it's coming from someone else. I sound like a little girl. I am just a little girl.
Maven doesn't answer, but holds my gaze. The boy I know is still there, hiding, flickering behind his eyes. If I can just reach him— but Maven moves faster than me, pushing me away when I reach out.
"CAPTAIN TYROS!" Cal roars, still able to speak. Elara has not taken that from him yet. But no one comes running. No one can hear us. "CAPTAIN TYROS!" he yells again, pleading with no one. "EVANGELINE! PTOLEMUS, SOMEONE HELP!"
Elara is content to let him shout, enjoying the sound, but Maven flinches. "Do we have to listen to this?" he asks.
"No, I suppose we don't," she sighs, tipping her head. Cal's body moves with her thoughts, shifting to face his father.
Cal panics, his eyes growing wide. "What are you doing?"
Beneath him, the king's face darkens. "Isn't it obvious?"
I don't understand at all. I don't belong here. Julian was right. This is a game I don't understand, a game I don't know how to play. I wish Julian were here now, to explain, to help, to save me. But no one is coming.
"Maven, please," I plead, trying to make him look at me. But he turns his back, focusing on his mother and his betrayed blood. He is his mother's son.
She didn't care that he was in my memories. She didn't care that he was part of all this. She didn't even look surprised. The answer is frighteningly simple. Because she already knew. Because he is her son. Because this was her plan all along. The thought stings like knives running along skin, but the pain only makes it more real.
"You used me."
Finally, Maven condescends to look back at me. "Catching on, are you?"
"You chose the targets. The colonel, Reynald, Belicos, even Ptolemus—they weren't the Guard's enemies, they were yours." I want to tear him apart, lightning or not. I want to make him hurt.
I am finally learning my lesson. Anyone can betray anyone.
"And this, this was just another plot. You pushed me into this, even though it was impossible, even though you knew Cal would never betray his father! You made me believe it. You made all of us believe it."
"It's not my fault you were stupid enough to play along," he replies. "Now the Guard is finished."
It feels like a kick in the teeth. "They were your friends. They trusted you."
"They were a threat to my kingdom, and they were stupid," he fires back. He stoops, bending over me with his twisted smile. "Were."
Elara laughs at his cruel joke. "It was too easy to slip you into their midst. One sentimental servant was all it took. How such fools became a danger, I'll never know."
"You made me believe," I whisper again, remembering every lie he ever told me. "I thought you wanted to help us." It comes out a whimper. For a split second, his pale features soften. But it doesn't last.
"Foolish girl," Elara says. "Your idiocy was almost our ruin. Using your own guard in the escape, causing all the outages—do you really think I was so stupid as to miss your tracks?"
"Of course I knew. How else do you think you came so far? I had to cover your tracks, I had to protect you from anyone with enough sense to see the signs," she snarls, growling like a beast. "You do not know the lengths I went to keep you from harm." She flushes with pleasure, enjoying every second of this. "But you are Red, and like all the others, you were doomed to fail."
It breaks against me, memories falling into place. I should've known, deep down, not to trust Maven. He was too perfect, too brave, too kind. He turned his back on his kind to join the Guard. He pushed me at Cal. He gave me exactly what I wanted and it made me blind.
Wanting to scream, wanting to weep, I let my eyes trail to Elara. "You told him exactly what to say," I whisper. She doesn't have to nod, but I know I'm right. "You know who I am in here, and you knew"—my head aches, remembering how she played inside my mind—"you knew exactly how to win me over."
Nothing hurts more deeply than the hollow look on Maven's face.
"Was anything true?"
When he shakes his head, I know that is also a lie.
"Even Thomas?"
The boy at the war front, the boy who died fighting someone else's war. His name was Thomas and I saw him die.
The name punches through his mask, cracking the facade of cool indifference, but isn't enough. He shrugs off the name and the pain it causes him. "Another dead boy. He makes no difference."
"He makes all the difference," I whisper to myself.
"I think it's time to say your good-byes, Maven," Elara cuts in, putting a white hand on her son's shoulder. I've struck too close to his weak spot, and she won't let me push further.
"I have none," he whispers, turning back to his father. His blue eyes waver, looking at the crown, the sword, the armor, anywhere but his father's face. "You never looked at me. You never saw me. Not when you had him." He jerks his head toward Cal.
"You know that's not true, Maven. You are my son. Nothing will change that. Not even her," Tiberias says, casting a glance at Elara. "Not even what she's about to do."
"Dearest, I'm not doing anything," she chirps back. "But your beloved boy"—she slaps Cal across the face—"the perfect heir"—she slaps him again, harder this time—"Coriane's son." Another slap draws blood, splitting his lip. "I cannot speak for him."
Thick silverblood drips down Cal's chin. Maven's eyes linger on the blood and the slightest frown pulls at his features.
"We had a son too, Tibe," Elara whispers, her voice ragged with rage as she turns back to the king. "No matter how you felt about me, you were supposed to love him."
"I did!" he shouts, straining against her mental hold. "I do."
I know what it's like to be cast aside, to stand in another's shadow. But this kind of anger, this murderous, destructive, terrible scene is beyond my comprehension. Maven loves his father, his brother—how can he let her do this? How can he want this?
But he stands still, watching, and I can't find the words to make him move
In the silent expanse before me, I observed the unfolding turmoil. Chaos and upheaval danced in a frenetic ballet, each trying to overpower the other. The world seemed caught in a fierce contest, where strength and power played a wicked game. The very air seemed thick with tension, as the battle of wills raged on, each side determined to emerge as the victor in this relentless struggle for dominance. The spectacle was both mesmerizing and terrifying, a testament to the lengths entities will go to establish their supremacy.
Despite all the havoc surrounding me one fact remained clear:
I am going to die
Maven POV:
From my vantage point, I bore witness to the unfolding drama, the culmination of our grand design. Yet, as the scenes played out, my eyes betrayed me, moistening ever so slightly. I quickly regained composure, ensuring no emotion tarnished my facade.
Cal's hand shakes, reaching forward, pushed along by her will. He tries to resist, struggling with every ounce of strength he has, but it's no use. This is a battle he does not know how to fight. When his hand closes around the gilded sword, pulling it from the sheath at his father's waist, the last piece of the puzzle slips into place. Tears course down his face, steaming against burning-hot skin.
"It's not you," Tiberias says, his eyes on Cal's wretched face. He doesn't bother pleading for his life. "I know it's not you, son. This is not your fault."
Tears stinged my eyes but I held them back making sure to show no emotion.
This was the vision of my destiny, the very path I had so coveted.
So, why did this hollowness persist?
The events transpiring before me seemed to steadily consume the warmth of my heart, rendering it cold and lifeless. I felt a distance from myself, ensnared in the intricate web woven by my mother, a mere pawn in this treacherous game.
Mare, still chained looked up at me, her face streaked with tears. "I loved you, I needed you, and now I'm going to die for it". For a second I paused as memories of our secret glances, late nights, our secret kiss all rushed back to me like a rock to the head.
Mare's gaze met mine, a mixture of sorrow and resignation evident in her depths. "I will never make the mistake of loving you again, Maven Calore," she declared with a heartbreaking clarity. That single sentence struck deeper than any weapon, more piercing than any neglect I had ever felt from my father.
The weight of her words settled heavily on my chest, a crushing pressure. Her voice, once filled with warmth and hope when speaking my name, now carried the cold sting of disillusionment. I could see the walls she was hastily erecting around her heart, walls to keep me out.
The pain was exquisite, sharper than the keenest blade. All the times I had felt overlooked by my father, all those moments of neglect and yearning for acknowledgment, paled in comparison to the raw ache Mare's words ignited within me. I had betrayed so many, lost so much, and here was the final blow – the loss of someone who had once looked at me with nothing but love and trust.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tried to find words, any words, to convey the storm of emotions raging within. But nothing came out. I was paralyzed, both by her words and by the realization of the depth of my actions.
As the distance between us grew, both physically and emotionally, a haunting question lingered in my mind: How had I let it come to this?
"No", mothers voice whispered into my head. "Don't heed the words of the red rat. Her efforts to mislead you are truly pitiful."
I close my eyes, taking a moment to center myself. She's right – I am Maven Calore, and no one can shake my resolve.
I lifted her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet mine, "I am not a fool little lightning girl. if your going to play with my head, I'm going to play with yours".
Her tears flowed more freely as I stepped back, smugly satisfied. A part of me questioned the authenticity of my act. After all, my mother believed I was on her side, my father previously assumed I stood with him, and Mare? She thought I was entirely hers.
Whose side was I truly on?
That became increasingly unclear. While my chosen path may have been harrowing, it was difficult to discern whether it was a path I had carved for myself or one my mother had laid out for me.
Mare's words reverberated in my mind, jolting me awake. How did I end up in this situation? A pang of guilt surged within, stemming from the deceit and lies I had cast upon those I cherished most.
Thomas. The boy who cherished me. He was my first — my first kiss, my first love, my initial foray into the complexities of a relationship. With him, I experienced the intimacy of truly connecting with someone, of being vulnerable and raw. Yet, in a twist of fate and a haze of decisions, he also became the boy who met his end at my hands. When I first received news of his death, I felt as though I'd been reduced to ashes, consumed by an inferno of grief and disbelief. Every memory of him played like a haunting melody, reminding me of the fragility of life and the treacherous nature of the world we navigated.
Father and Cal. Admittedly, Father often seemed preoccupied, his attention diverted elsewhere. Yet, the words "I love you" were scarcely acknowledged, making me feel overlooked. Cal, on the other hand, had always been there, the protective elder brother guiding my way. While resentment lingered towards Father, Cal had always been there, my elder brother, supporting and loving me unconditionally. Then I recall all the instances where I tried, only to be overshadowed by Father's unwavering attention to his golden child, Cal – his shining son. Over time, those accumulated memories bred a coldness within me, ultimately encasing my heart in ice.
Mare. The singular soul who truly grasped my essence. She looked past the icy exterior, recognizing not just a prince but a young man striving for validation. I wasn't merely an issue; I was an individual facing challenges. The one person who brought out the side of me I didn't know still existed. And now, I'm condemning her to her fate. I recall the look in her eyes, filled with admiration and love, back in the theater. A pang of sorrow hits me as I realize I may never witness that gaze again. That realization shattered me from within, leaving me broken.
It's undeniable; I'm merely a shadow, a monster at heart.
The weight of the situation sinks in, pressing heavily on my chest. In the corner of my mind, I can almost feel the surge of Mare's power, the electrifying force she wishes she could unleash on Elara and me. But reality, with its stark bitterness, refuses to yield to these fantastical musings. The rebellion has crumbled, allies like Farley and Kilorn now reduced to memories. Even in the recesses of my deepest thoughts, I can't reconstruct the tapestry of what was once a hopeful uprising.
The sword, shimmering and ornate, is held aloft by Cal's unsteady hand. Though it's meant more for pageantry, its blade is menacingly sharp, reflecting the room's dim light. As Cal's internal fire imbues the sword with heat, the intricate gold and silver designs melt away, dripping molten metal like a cascade of sorrowful tears.
As my gaze fixates on the glowing blade, I realize I'm subconsciously averting my eyes from witnessing the final moments of our father. Mare's silent accusation echoes in my mind, challenging the very foundation of my perceived courage. Maybe she was right. Maybe I wasn't as brave as I once believed.
"Please," is all Cal can say, forcing the words out. "Please."
"I am the true mastermind," my mother proclaimed with a violent laugh.
Something within me fractured.
Gathering my strength, I retorted, "No, that would be me."
Her attention immediately shifted to me, anger clearly evident in her eyes. I quickly silenced myself, a plan beginning to take shape in my mind.
From her, I inherited the art of language, a gift and a curse. She taught me, intentionally or not, that words could be weapons or salves, turning points of strength into vulnerabilities, or moments of doubt into trust. With just a phrase, I learned to draw someone close or push them away, to make them love or despise. Like a double-edged sword, every word held the power of creation and destruction, a legacy she left me to wield. And now, armed with this legacy, I realize I can wield it against her very teachings.
She holds me in her grasp, her control over me almost absolute. I often feel like a bird with clipped wings, yearning to fly but bound to the earth. Yet, there's one thing she can't suppress: my words. With them, I've learned to dance on the edge of her patience, to tug at the frayed edges of her plans. And even if not out loud, in my thoughts—where she always listens—I dare to challenge her, pushing boundaries and drawing lines. But beyond her machinations, a deeper conflict rages within me. Though anger seethes for Cal, Tiberias, and Mare, a part of my soul screams against the path we tread. Somewhere, deep down, I recognize the chaos and destruction our actions will unleash. And if I don't find a way out of this web, this very path may doom me to my end. Maybe, just maybe, with these silent whispers, I can teeter her on the brink and find a way to alter our shared fate.
"Mother, why are you doing this?" I questioned silently, confident she would hear my thoughts.
"Don't be so ungrateful, Mavey. I'm doing this for you. They don't truly love you." she whispered into my mind.
"Are you truly doing this for me, or is it for your own sake? To prove that your son is superior to Coriane's? To show that your child reigns supreme?"
I could feel the potency of my words piercing through the air. There was a silent pause, a vacuum created by the unspoken truths that had been laid bare. I knew I had struck a nerve, touched upon the very insecurities she so fervently tried to hide. In the depths of my mind, a tiny smirk formed – not one of triumph but of acknowledgement. The once impenetrable Elara now radiated a subtle aura of vulnerability. Her anger, though veiled, was palpable, and I braced myself for her retaliation. Despite the storm that I knew was about to be unleashed, there was a bitter satisfaction in having finally voiced the inner thoughts I'd held back for so long. I could feel the potency of my words piercing through the air. There was a silent pause, a vacuum created by the unspoken truths that had been laid bare. I knew I had struck a nerve, touched upon the very insecurities she so fervently tried to hide. In the depths of my mind, a tiny smirk formed – not one of triumph but of acknowledgement. The once impenetrable Elara now radiated a subtle aura of vulnerability. Her anger, though veiled, was palpable, and I braced myself for her retaliation. Despite the storm that I knew was about to be unleashed, there was a bitter satisfaction in having finally voiced the inner thoughts I'd held back for so long.
"And let me guess," I persisted in my inner monologue, "after all this, you're going to lead Cal and Mare to the Bowl of Bones, and Ren will conveniently refrain from using his ability, allowing your whispers to guide them towards their downfall, in a twisted attempt to elevate my stature, to make me appear more powerful." The pieces were falling into place in my mind, forming a clearer picture of her intricate web of deceit.
"How... how did you know?" My mother's voice quivered, echoing faintly within the confines of my mind. The uncertainty in her tone was something I had seldom heard, and it only solidified the truth of my realizations.
"Because I'm just like you," I mused inwardly. "Manipulative, selfish, cruel, and greedy. You instilled these traits in me, and now the student has surpassed the teacher. Aren't you proud?" The irony was not lost on me, even as a storm of emotions raged within.
And then amidst the chaos, I realized that I am turning 18 this year.
18 years, a lifetime of seeking,
Eighteen years bearing scars, with heartache never ebbing, Eighteen years in fear's grip, every moment so disturbing. For eighteen years, building walls, concealing tears that leave their mark, Eighteen years, a fractured soul, in darkness often left to embark. In a silent void, for eighteen years, against despair I've strived, Hoping to find a beacon, where dreams somehow survived. Eighteen years of wearing masks, of pushing real feelings away, While fleeting joys made brief stays, and sorrows chose to sway. Carrying memories, a heavy burden, through years that felt constrained, Haunted by the past and its specters, in unseen chains remained. Teetering on destiny's precipice, yearning for some reprieve, Eighteen tumultuous years, fighting to believe.
"You're destined to be nothing," Mother's voice whispered, a cold and haunting shade. But defiantly, I retorted, "From your shadows, I will not fade." "Forever in Cal's shadow," she murmured, her tone dripping with jeer, Yet, determinedly I countered, my intentions crystal clear. "Your heart? Too fragile," her voice dripped, planting seeds of deception, Challenging my every move, every ambitious conception. "Love? Merely a fleeting dream," she scoffed from her concealed place, But softly, I reaffirmed, "It's a dream I'll forever chase."
"Why resist? You're nothing without me," she whispered, her voice like a snaring net, A subtle reminder of her chains, of the control she wouldn't forget. But mustering strength from within, breaking her manipulative trends, I proclaimed to myself, "This is where your influence ends."
"I'm claiming control," her voice a faint echo, growing distant in my mind, Resolutely, I declared to myself, "Now, I'm taking the reins. My path, I will find."
With a surge of rebellion, anger, and resilience, I unleashed a blazing inferno. As it roared and shifted to a brilliant blue, it shot through the air, striking the sword from Cal's grasp and freeing him from Mother's insidious whispers, and preventing my father death.
Before I could fully comprehend, the fire raged on, consuming walls, ceiling, and every inch of the room. Panic gripped me as I realized I was losing control; the inferno I had unleashed was growing uncontrollably around me.
As the fire continued to spread, a single word resonated relentlessly in my mind:
Run.