“The last two floors are royal apartments,” Lucas says, pointing up the sloping, spiraling hallway. Sunlight glitters like a firestorm, throwing speckles of light down on us. “The lift will take us down to the ballroom. Just here.” Lucas reaches out, stopping next to a metal wall. It reflects us dully, then slides away when he waves a hand.

The Sentinels usher us into a box with no windows and harsh lighting. I force myself to breathe, even though I’d rather push out of what feels like a giant metal coffin.

I jump a mile when the lift suddenly moves, making my pulse race. My breath comes in short gasps as I look around in wide-eyed fright, expecting to see the others reacting in the same way. But no one else seems to mind the fact that the room we’re in is dropping. Only Lucas notices my discomfort, and he slows our descent a little.

“The lift moves up and down, so we don’t have to walk. This place is very big, Lady Titanos,” he murmurs with the ghost of a smile.

I’m torn between wonder and fear as we drop, and I breathe a sigh of relief when Lucas opens the lift doors. We march out into the mirrored hall I ran through this morning. The broken mirrors are already fixed—it looks like nothing ever happened.

When Queen Elara appears around the corner, her own Sentinels in tow, Lucas sweeps into a bow. Now she wears black and red and silver, her husband’s colors. With her blond hair and pale skin, she looks downright ghoulish.

She grabs me by the arm, pulling me to her as we walk. Her lips don’t move, but I hear her voice all the same, echoing in my head. This time it doesn’t hurt or make me nauseous, but the sensation still feels sick and wrong. I want to scream, to claw her out of my head. But there’s nothing I can do except hate her.

The Titanos family were oblivions, she says, her voice all around. They could explode things with a touch, like the Lerolan girl did at Queenstrial. When I try to remember the girl, Elara projects an image of her directly into my brain. It flashes, barely there, but still I see a young girl in orange blow up rock and sand like military bombs. Your mother, Nora Nolle, was a storm like the rest of House Nolle. Storms control the weather, to an extent. It’s not common, but their union resulted in your unique abilities to control electricity. Say no more, if anyone asks.

What do you really want with me? Even in my head, my voice quivers.

Her laughter bounces inside my skull, the only answer I’ll get.

Remember the person you’re supposed to be, and remember well, she continues, ignoring my question. You are pretending to be raised Red, but you’re Silver by blood. You are now Red in the head, Silver in the heart.

A shiver of fear shoots through me.

From now until the end of your days, you must lie. Your life depends on it, little lightning girl.

TEN

Elara leaves me standing in the hallway, mulling over her words.

I used to think there was only the divide, Silver and Red, rich and poor, kings and slaves. But there’s much more in between, things I don’t understand, and I’m right in the middle of it. I grew up wondering if I’d have food for supper; now I’m standing in a palace about to be eaten alive.

Red in the head, Silver in the heart sticks with me, guiding my motions. My eyes stay wide, taking in the grand palace both Mare and Mareena had never dreamed of, but my mouth presses into a firm line. Mareena is impressed, but she keeps her emotions in check. She is cold and unfeeling.

The doors at the end of the hall open, revealing the biggest room I’ve ever seen, bigger even than the throne room. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sheer size of this place. I step through the doors onto a landing. Stairs lead down to the floor, where every house sits in cool expectation, their eyes forward. Again, they keep to their colors. A few mutter among themselves, probably talking about me and my little show. King Tiberias and Elara stand on a raised surface a few feet higher than the floor, facing the crowd of their subjects. They never miss an opportunity to lord over the others. Either they’re very vain, or very aware. To look powerful is to be powerful.

The princes match their parents in different outfits of red and black, both decorated with military medals. Cal stands to his father’s right, his face still and impassive. If he knows who he’s going to marry, he doesn’t look happy about it. Maven’s there too, on his mother’s left, his face a storm cloud of emotions. The younger brother is not as good as Cal at hiding his feelings.

At least I won’t have to deal with a good liar.

“The right of Queenstrial is always a joyous event, representing the future of our great kingdom and the bonds that keep us strongly united in the face of our enemies,” the king says, addressing the crowd. They don’t see me yet, standing on the edge of the room, looking down on them all. “But as you saw today, Queenstrial has brought forth more than just the future queen.”

He turns to Elara, who clasps the king’s hand in her own with a dutiful smile. Her shift from devilish villain to blushing queen is astounding. “We all remember our bright hope against the darkness of war, our captain, our friend, the General Ethan Titanos,” Elara says.

People murmur over the room, in fondness or sadness. Even the Samos patriarch, Evangeline’s cruel father, bows his head. “He led the Iron Legion to victory, pushing back the lines of war that had stood for a hundred years. The Lakelanders feared him, our soldiers loved him.” I strongly doubt a single Red soldier loved their Silver general. “Lakelander spies killed our beloved friend Ethan, sneaking across the lines to destroy our one hope for peace. His wife, the Lady Nora, a good and just woman, died with him. On that fateful day sixteen years ago, House Titanos was lost. Friends were taken from us. Silver blood was spilled.”

Silence settles on the room as the queen pauses to dab at her eyes, wiping away what I know are fake, forced tears. A few of the girls, participants in Queenstrial, fidget in their seats. They don’t care about a dead general, and neither does the queen, not really. This is about me, about somehow slipping a Red girl into a crown without anyone noticing. It’s a magic trick and the queen is a skilled magician.

Her eyes find me, blazing up to my spot at the top of the stairs, and everyone follows her gaze. Some look confused while others recognize me from this morning. And a few stare at my dress. They know the colors of House Titanos better than I do, and understand who I am. Or at least who I’m pretending to be.

“This morning we saw a miracle. We watched a Red girl fall into the arena like a bolt of lightning, wielding power she should not have.” More murmurs rise, and a few Silvers even stand. The Samos girl looks furious, her black eyes fixed on me.

“The king and I interviewed the girl extensively, trying to discover how she came to be.” Interview is a funny way to describe scrambling my brain. “She isn’t Red, but she is still a miracle. My friends, please welcome back to us Lady Mareena Titanos, daughter of Ethan Titanos. Lost and now found.”

With a twitch of her hand, she beckons me closer. I obey.

I descend the stairs to stilted applause, more focused on not tripping. But my feet are sure, my face still, as I plunge toward hundreds of faces wondering, staring, suspecting. Lucas and my guards don’t follow, staying on the landing. I’m alone in front of these people once again and I’ve never felt so bare, even with the layers of silk and powder. Again, I’m grateful for all the makeup. It’s my shield, between them and the truth of who I am. A truth I don’t even understand.