Something breaks in Cal, quenching the fire he tries so hard to hide. He crosses to the window, hands clasped behind his back. With the rising sun on his face and shadow on his back, he seems torn between two worlds. In my heart, I know he is. The little part of me that still cares about him wants to close the distance between us, but I am not that foolish. I’m not a little lovesick girl.

“I thought that once,” he mutters. “But it would lead to rebellion on both sides, and I will not be the king who ruins this country. This is my legacy, my father’s legacy, and I have a duty to it.” A slow heat rumbles from him, steaming the glass window. “Would you trade a million deaths for what they want?”

A million deaths. My mind flashes back to Belicos Lerolan’s corpse, with his dead children at his side. And then other faces join the dead—Shade, Kilorn’s father, every Red soldier who died for their war.

“The Guard won’t stop,” I say softly, but I know he’s barely listening anymore. “And while they are certainly to blame, you are as well. There is blood on your hands, Prince.” And Maven’s. And mine.

I leave him standing there, hoping I’ve changed him, but knowing those odds are slim at best. He is his father’s son.

“Julian’s disappeared, hasn’t he?” he calls out to me, stopping me in my tracks.

I turn slowly, mulling over what I can possibly say. I decide to play dumb. “Disappeared?”

“The escape left holes in the memories of many Sentinels, as well as the video logs. My uncle does not use his abilities often, but I know the signs.”

“You think he helped them escape?”

“I do,” he says painfully, looking at his hands. “That’s why I gave him enough time to slip away.”

“You did what?” I can’t believe my ears. Cal, the soldier, the one who always follows orders, breaking the rules for his uncle.

“He’s my uncle, I did what I could for him. How heartless do you think I am?” He smirks sadly at me, not waiting for an answer. It makes me ache. “I delayed the arrest as long as I could, but everyone leaves tracks, and the queen will find him,” he sighs, putting a hand against the glass. “And he’ll be executed.”

“You’d do that to your uncle?” I don’t bother to hide my disgust, or the fear beneath. If he’ll kill Julian, even after letting him go, what will he do to me when I’m found out?

Cal’s shoulders tighten as he straightens, morphing back into the soldier. He will hear no more of Julian or the Scarlet Guard.

“Maven had an interesting proposition.”

That was unexpected. “Oh?”

He nods, oddly annoyed at the thought of his brother. “Mavey’s always been a quick thinker. He got that from his mother.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” I know better than any that Maven is nothing like his mother, or any other damned Silver. “What are you trying to say, Cal?”

“You’re in the open now,” he blurts out. “After your speech, the entire country knows your name and face. And so more will wonder who and what you are.”

I can only scowl and shrug. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you made me read that disgusting speech.”

“I’m a soldier, not a politician. You know I had nothing to do with the Measures.”

“But you’ll follow them. You’ll follow them without question.”

He doesn’t argue that. For all his faults, Cal won’t lie to me. Not now. “All records of you have been removed. Officers, archivists, no one will ever find proof you were born Red,” he murmurs, eyes on the floor. “That is what Maven proposed.”

Despite my anger, I gasp aloud. The bloodbase. The records. “What does that mean?” I don’t have the strength to keep my voice from shaking.

“Your school record, birth certificate, blood prints, even your ID card have been destroyed.” I barely hear him over the sound of my hammering heartbeat.

Once, I would have hugged him outright. But I must remain still. I must not let Cal know he has saved me again. No, not Cal. This was Maven’s doing. This was the shadow controlling the flame.

“That sounds like the right thing to do,” I say aloud, trying to sound uninterested.

But my act can only last so long. After one stiff bow in Cal’s direction, I hurry from the room, hiding my wild grin.

TWENTY-FOUR

I spend much of the next day exploring, though my mind is somewhere else. Whitefire is older than the Hall, its walls made of stone and carved wood rather than diamondglass. I doubt I’ll ever learn the layout of the whole thing, as it holds not just the royal residence but many administrative offices and chambers, ballrooms, a full training court, and other things I don’t understand. I guess that’s why it takes the blathering secretary nearly a half hour to find me, wandering through a gallery of statues. But I won’t have more time to explore. I have duties to fulfill.

Duties, according to the king’s chatting secretary, that apply to a whole range of evils beyond just reading the Measures. As a future princess, I must meet the people in arranged outings, making speeches and shaking hands and standing by Maven’s side. The last part doesn’t really bother me, but being put on parade like a goat at auction isn’t exactly exciting.

I join Maven in a transport, headed for the first appearance. I’m itching to tell him about the list and thank him for the bloodbase, but there are too many eyes and ears.

The majority of the day speeds by in a blur of noise and color as we tour different parts of the capital. The Bridge Market reminds me of Grand Garden, though it’s three times the size. In the single hour we spend greeting children and shopkeepers, I see the Silvers assault or aggravate dozens of Red servants, all trying to do their jobs. Security keeps them from all-out abuse, but the words they sling are almost as hurtful. Child killers, animals, devils. Maven keeps his grip tight on my hand, squeezing every time a Red is knocked to the ground. When we reach our next stop, an art gallery, I’m glad to be out of the public eye, until I see the paintings. The Silver artist uses two colors, silver and red, in a horrifying collection that makes me sick. Each painting is worse than the last, depicting Silver strength and Red weakness in every brushstroke. The last one depicts a gray-and-silver figure, quite like a ghost, and the crown on his brow bleeds crimson. It makes me want to put my head through a wall.

The plaza outside the gallery is noisy, bustling with city life. Many stop to stare, gawking at us as we head for our transport. Maven waves with a practiced smile, causing the crowd to cheer his name. He’s good at this; after all, these people are his birthright. When he stoops to speak with a few children, his smile brightens. Cal might be born to rule, but Maven was meant for it. And Maven is willing to change the world for us, for the Reds he was raised to spit on.

I surreptitiously touch the list in my pocket, thinking of the ones who can help Maven and me change the world. Are they like me, or are they as varied as the Silvers? Shade was like you. They knew about Shade and had to kill him, like they could not kill you. My heart aches for my fallen brother, for the conversations we might have had. For the future we might have forged.

But Shade is dead, and there are others who need my help.