Red Ruse

Chapter Nine

"I suppose Elara had nothing to do with this."

His lips tug. "You're learning."

The transport screeches to a halt, and Maven helps me onto the pavement. The gates are gilded with orange flames, creeping along the iron as if to devour the bricks on either side. Inside, black drapes over every surface: the windows, the tables, even the statues which line the halls. Red and orange curl at the edges, hastily painted over in grief. A shadow has been cast over the Lerolan estate. And we are not here to fix it.

A woman waits in the dining hall, knuckles ripe with age. Her spine is rigid, unyielding as Maven walks in her direction. "Took you long enough."

"Nanabel." Maven embraces her, sinking into a shallow bow. "Apologies for our tardiness."

She sniffs. "Who is your . . . guest?"

My curtsey is as awkward and sloppy as I can get away with. Her lips purse, a vision of distaste. She can see my blood.

She does not like it.

"Our newest ambassador." Maven's mask is one of cheer, though I can see the tug of dissatisfaction beneath. "You deserve a proper introduction."

"Mareena, was it?" She brushes him aside, squinting as she studies my face. Her gown is black as the rest of court, but for once I find a face to match. Eyes flushed with silver, hands curled just short of fists. This is a woman with names on a list. And she wants to know if I must be one of them.

"Mare. Mare Barrow."

Her lip curls. "Nice to meet you, Mareena."

Maven cuts in before I make things worse. "Our condolences. Your son, he–" His throat bobs. "He did not deserve to die as he did."

Son. It clicks.

"I know." Anabel Lerolan, mother of Tiberias the Sixth, dabs her eyes. Lady Blonos made me memorize her name in a long list of others, though she hadn't mentioned she was still living. "Any news of my grandson?"

His hand squeezes a moment before relaxing. "He is not family. Not anymore."

"Hmm." Something flickers in her eyes, a crease in her forehead which grows deeper by the moment. "Ptolemus heads the search, I take it?"

"They'll have him within the month." Maven sits down, plucking the knife from the napkin. "Evangeline is a serpent, and her brother is a bloodhound."

"Strange." Anabel dabs her chin. "Gossip would suggest she is the one who slithers." A nod in my direction. "And she's managed to make a nest of your bed."

Maven flushes, and my cheeks warm in kind. Good. Let him think me flustered. It'll be all the easier to pierce his guard. I fiddle with the napkin. "I prefer those who say I have fangs."

She chuckles. "Would you rather I were one of them?"

"I'd rather you take her at her word." Maven stands, meal long forgotten. "People said the same of Coriane, and you still let Father marry her."

His mother doesn't approve, so he runs to his grandmother. I don't know whether to laugh or scream.

Neither does Anabel. She exhales, fingers curling to fists. "You want my help."

"Your blessing."

She stands. "You know my price."

He stiffens. "I know you must be willing to negotiate. You've not had a throne in a long time. You know well the favors I could grant you."

Anabel walks closer. "Your mother would never allow it. And if she did, it would never last long enough to matter."

"Be reasonable." Maven shakes his head. "You know I'd never–"

"You're asking me to stand against Elara." She slams a fist on the table. "I want insurance she won't strike back. You want your heart? I want her head."

Silence.

He takes my hand, guiding me to sit beside him in the quiet. I glance at Anabel, still fuming. "Is her head a dealbreaker, or would her foot suffice?"

Anabel doesn't waver. Maven only tightens his grip. "When I was born, everyone thought I was a whisper. My hair was blonde, not yet dark, and the nursemaids swore they heard voices whenever I was near. When I cried, no one held me. Not Father. Not you. Only her."

I wait for her to deny it. To throw the words in his face like the lie it must be. But she only sniffs. "If you're trying to guilt me, it isn't working."

Maven exhales, gripping the table as if it were her throat. "I'm pointing out how feeble it is to drive us apart. How I have every reason to cast you further from our court."

"Is this how you speak to Evangeline? If so, keep it up. She'll have your head within the month."

"We're done here." He snarls, storming to the door. I should go after him. Savor every moment spent away from her critical gaze, and use that time to better manipulate him. But I don't follow. Something tells me there are secrets stowed beneath these floors. And Maven is the one who might bar me to them.

"I saw a hawk yesterday."

She tilts her head. "And?"

"Blue feathers. Sharp beak. I saw it every day, and shuddered everytime it looked at me." I don't blink. "But when I woke this morning, it was gone. Very strange."

My heart pounds. It's risky, speaking to her in code. Whether she'll think me an airhead, or too clever to keep around. But I will not make it without allies. Not with Evangeline as an enemy.

"Do you like birdwatching, Miss Barrow?"

I startle.

Anabel takes my hand, smiling. "I used to birdwatch with Lady Ara all the time. They called her 'The Panther' for all the birds she caught. Such a shame she disappeared." Her eyes glitter. "If you find her, could you let me know? Perhaps Maven has an idea."

The Panther. The greatest spy of her generation, one Elara had unkind things to say about. I swallow. "I'll keep an eye out."

"Thank you. My grandson–" She chokes on the word. Whatever lies he fed her, she hasn't believed them. "Seems quite attached to you. Make the most of it."

My fists clench. "I will."

It's the last thing I say before she dismisses me.