His Red Queen

Chapter Forty-eight

Maven hasn't been the same since Evangeline killed Elara. In a way, I am glad she was the one to do it instead of me. Sure, my hands are not clean of silver blood, but killing Elara would have made everything far worse for me. After the funeral, Maven and I agreed to put all court affairs on hold and take time away from everyone else.

Even though it has been about a month since we laid the former queen to rest, I have been plagued with nightmares. Beside me, Maven sleeps soundly most nights, free of nightmares despite Elara's absence. I've tried to keep myself from sleeping just so I do not have to relive those moments in different ways. Still, my endeavor to stay awake all night, staring at the ceiling does not work.

But tonight it is working.

I received word from Shade this evening that he, Farley, Evangeline, and Elane touched down in Piedmont and are working on negotiations with Premier Davidson and his husband, Carmadon. Since Volo Samos is dead, Ptolemus has assumed the throne in the Rift. I don't know what exactly that means for the rest of us but Larentia has been silent lately. Too silent.

Maven lies awake with me, mulling over what we should do about the kingdoms crumbling and growing all around us. I roll over and lay my head on Maven's bare chest. His fingers tangle in my hair.

"This is too much," he says.

"It is," I sigh. There's only so much we can do now, and so much of it involves some sort of treaty or alliance with Piedmont. "And with the Rift still alive, Ptolemus ruling... it doesn't sit right with me. Even with Elane wanting us to all step down, that's not going to happen."

"No, it's not," he responds. A final decision, non negotiable. "But he was on that list I had back when we sabotaged the ball for a reason."

Oh, right. That. "So, what? Are we going to kill him now? His father just died, his sister is more than happy to tear either one of us to shreds when given the chance." I sit up, leaning back against the head board. Maven glances up at me, his face pale in the moonlight, dark circles beneath his eyes nearly frightening. "That would be an act of war. When does this end?" I hate the desperation in my voice, the uncertainty.

"It never ends," he mutters.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence I find the nerve to say, "I'm tired, Maven."

He pulls me close against him. "Then, please go to sleep, my love. We can talk about this in the morning." He presses a kiss to my forehead.

"No," I breathe. "I'm tired of this constant war, these battles against people who could be good allies. I'm tired of my people dying for nothing."

"Me too," he admits. I almost do not believe him. I just don't. That's what scares me—not knowing if every kind or sympathetic thing that my husband says is a lie. "This is ridiculous."

"It is."

I want to badly to melt into his arms right now, to tell him to make me feel better without words.

"I need a distraction, Mare," he says quietly.

You're not the only one.

Finally, it seems as though the topic of war has been dropped. Maven and I have been living in a strange sort of calm since Elara has been gone. I never told him seems more at ease, yet depressed all the same. It's an odd balance between madness and relief that it's all over after such a terrible event.

I, for one still find myself looking over my shoulder, my brain playing tricks on me by thinking she's there, wanting to pull me or Maven's strings. But she is never there and Maven is still here with me.

No one is going to hurt us. Not for a little while, at least. For now that is enough.

"I need a distraction too," I admit. My heart beats rapidly as Maven's calm expression turns into something totally different.

He shifts so he is on top of me, resting his elbows on the bed on both sides of me. His lips hover over mine but he does not kiss me. Black curls tickle my face. I lean up to kiss him but he puts a hand on my shoulder, holding me back.

"Oh come on—" I whine.

Maven smirks down at me. "Not yet, my love."

"You're a menace," I breathe.

Maven's eyes darken at my words. He leans down so his lips brush my ear as he speaks, sending shivers down my spine. "Say it again," he purrs, his voice low and rough.

He takes my hand and brings it to his lips to kiss each knuckle. "Tell me I am a menace."

I let out a breathy laugh, biting my lip, feeling overheated and ready to burn. "Not until you kiss me again."