Some juicy Marecal for you all. It's kind of filler, but we've been focusing a liiittle too much on Mavey, haven't we?

Anyway, I'm really glad nothing's confusing with all the history and that - if it gets a bit tangled, do feel free to leave a review or PM me and I'll either fix it up or help explain it! Your reviews mean a lot, so I hope you all enjoy this chapter -

VIII.

Cal taps his finger to his chin, staring down into the pond water. It's almost become our designated meeting place, because there's no one else there and we've met there a few times now. "My mother does most of the work," he says. "Dad got discharged a few years ago. Can't do much. Mom works up as a seamstress. You know, the ones who make all those fancy silks?" I nod. "Pays us lots, she does."

"What do you do?" I ask him.

"Servant for the Silvers." He grins quickly, flexing as if there's anything to show. Idiot. "As you can see."

I snicker. "There's nothing there but lard!"

"Lard?" he cries, pressing his hand to his chest and recoiling. "How could you say that, Mare? You pierce my heart... like an icicle!"

We both laugh, and Cal drops his hand to the ground. I think he's a bit too young to be a servant; he's either my age (I just turned thirteen! Throw me a party) or a few years older, for we've only met a few times, all of which were in the dark, and I can't really see him too well. Silvers seem to have no regard for their servants anyway. I don't see servants much though, as they're known to gossip, and my House wants no one gossiping about me.

"That's cute," I tell him, "but I'm pretty sure an icicle can't pierce your heart."

He puts on a mock-grim expression. "Anything can pierce your heart if it tries hard enough." Then his 'mood' lightens as he punctures his words with a wink. The nerve of this boy! (Honestly, he should be thanking those parents of his for the fact that he's cute, or I would've smacked him a million times over by now.)

"Oh, you idiot," is the only exasperated reply I give him, but he laughs as if it means the whole world. His laugh is pretty cute. He's pretty cute. The way he snatches up my hand is pretty cute, and thank god for that, or else by this point I would've kicked him into next week.

This could not be worse.

My feet move of their own volition, and I know that because I don't really have the energy to move them myself. Either this is bad or this is really bad, and I am not too fond of either of those options.

Okay, even though it's not okay. So at the very least, Maven knows who I am. Who I was. I'm not Mare anymore, at least, not to anyone but Cal, and even then it's just a... nickname. And, laying it down bare-bones, he also knows that I'm Red. With Silver powers. This is not looking good for me and we're just on the groundwork now. Maven could potentially do whatever the hell he wants with that information, including spreading it and possibly getting me either murdered, publicly executed, or exiled. And that doesn't even cover the threat of where he got said information, because I have no clue. Said source could also spread it and also get me murdered and/or exiled.

And where it gets worse - how he got that info. I slam the doors to the Hall open and run my hand through my hair, hurrying down darkened corridors with no care if I'm seen or not. He could have gotten it from Cal, if Cal is the Cal that I knew five years ago and therefore knows my fake name, or if he (Cal) knows it somehow else, which worries me further. This is a chain, a stupid, incomplete, shiny silver rusted red chain. One of these princes completes that circle, though the old me is begging me to ignore it. The old me is begging me to let myself forget him again, begging me to forget that boy by the pond, swept back black hair and cute smile, leaning close, too close, too close to really forget and -

Hell! I rub my head and shove through the door. I'm out of step again. Part of me wonders if I even really want to remember. I don't... at least, I think. I want to put that boy behind me like I had done before, and keep him locked out of Summerton's diamondglass walls where he belongs. But if all evidence points to one of the princes being that Cal... then what am I supposed to do?

I slow and sigh as I exit the doorway; these are the residence floors, and should someone catch me here I need two things: to look dignified and to have an excuse. I can do one easily and think up the other, as little old escape artist me was very good at. Ha! Blasts from the past all around today, huh. All I really need to do is avoid the Sentinels, who might see through me much more easily than others would. I pace my steps and focus on keeping a straight face. Excuses, excuses... How could I think up excuses?

A door down the hall swings open. I scurry back around the corner, splaying myself against the wall. I don't want anyone seeing me, that's for sure, though I am prepared.

There's chit-chat echoing down the hall. Two male voices, and... oh, hell again. Just my luck that it happens to be Cal and Maven themselves, the two I was trying very very hard to ignore and/or not run into for a long while. My breathing eases, slows until where I'm hardly making a sound. I can just distinguish their words; they're discussing some strategy (war or chess? I can't really tell, and they seem to reference both), debating in a rather friendly tone until they finally come to a unanimous agreement on a way to approach. Their words are easy and smooth, and I barely hold in a sigh. They remind me of me and Ethan. Oh, Ethan, how I wish I could see my cousin again...

The two princes bid warm good-nights and then there's footsteps. They seem to be coming nearer, and I have... absolutely no way to make this less weird. Oh, goodness. Though I guess if it's just one of those two, and I'm hoping for Cal, it's not really that bad, except for the fact that if it's Maven who rounds that corner I'm not sure if I can restrain myself from hitting him. I want answers! Is that so hard to get around here?

And just because fate likes to spit in my face, who dares round the corner but Maven Calore himself? I've already relaxed my posture, and I step forward, opening my mouth to make some snarky remark (or something). Instead, Maven quells me with that mysterious little smile, half-twitch of his lip. "What are you doing up so late?" he asks, almost teasingly, like he didn't only a while ago make a statement that's pretty much sent me into paranoia hell. The nerve of this boy! Before I can answer he's down the hall, and I, wanting to get as close and as far away from him as possible in the smallest amount of time, turn on my heel and march in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing up so late?" asks a different voice, and I tense up. Oh, god, I completely forgot about Cal.

"Couldn't sleep." The answer falls from my lips easily, without much tremble. "I decided to go on a quick walk and... just lost track, I guess." I try to smile. I feel especially bare, though I'd worn a full dress and makeup down to my meeting with Maven to avoid any... trouble.

Cal smiles; grin is too wide and smirk doesn't fit him. His smile is so genuine is hurts. "That's fair." He glances me up and down, and the bare feeling swells, like I should've drowned myself in fluffy dresses and makeup. "I feel underdressed," he comments, but his tone is humorous. I laugh and hope it doesn't sound as uneasy to him as it does to me.

"It's not like it's a date," I reply, matching his tone and smile the best I can. Okay - easy banter, Mareena, keep it easy.

"Ah, but it could be," Cal whispers, like it's a secret. Damn! I set myself up for that one.

"Isn't it against protocol for betrothed to be alone together?" I ask. He hooks our arms together, and I tell myself the reason I don't pull away is because I'm too tired to really bother with it.

"We've been alone together before, what's the bother?" Cal shrugs it off, grinning widely now. Thank god he's cute, because I probably would've punched him at least once or twice had he been almost anyone else. His door is already open - I guess that's where he and Maven congregate - and he leads us in. "It's not very nice, so I'm sorry about that," he says. His touch isn't like electricity or flame or whatever those people say. His touch is warm and gentle, and I'm half-tempted to lace my fingers with his, though I don't.

There are books scattered everywhere, open to diagrams of soldiers and generals. While the war - and the Reds fighting it - have always made me a bit uncomfortable, my big concern is with the generals. My father was a general, and Ethan, though he's young and naive, is training to be one too. The thought of him as a general turns my stomach; I don't want the precious innocence he had stolen away from him, even though it's inevitable in this world, and that's the way things are here. Cal must notice I'm tense, because he laces his fingers with mine and squeezes my hand. I hate how easily he distracts me.

"You all right, Mare?" he asks, his tone gentle. Calmly, I breathe out and nod.

"I'm fine," I say, "just thinking."

He follows my gaze to the books, and frowns just a bit. I guess most Silvers are pretty accepting of it, and he was just talking strategy with Maven. My distaste is probably a little out there. "If that makes you, uh, uncomfortable, I'll just move them." I can appreciate the gesture, considering Cal's usual pride. We haven't talked much before, and though I doubt he'll always be like this and that he's probably just making an effort to welcome me more (we will be getting married, after all), it's nice enough.

"Oh, no, it's fine," I respond, waving him off. "I was just thinking about my cousin." He looks at me curiously, and I elaborate, "He's training to be a General, I think - Ethan Titanos, and not the dead one, though he was named after him." I twinge at my father's mention, and hope Cal brings up something else. The more I think about the war, the more I realize how much I hate it. He senses my discomfort and swings our joined hands a little; his are much bigger than mine, but look just as deft. He considers what to say for a moment, and then speaks.

"He'll be fine. He's from the same family as you, so I doubt he'll have any problems." Cal smiles, his eyes meeting mine. I roll my eyes.

"Oh, stop." Goddamn this man and his stupid skill at making me smile; it's hard to push it down, but I just manage to restrain a grin by biting my cheek. "You've only seen me - what, once? - at Queenstrial."

"Well, then, I guess you won for a reason." A secretive smile. I know that he didn't pick the winners of Queenstrial, and I probably wouldn't have been picked if he had; he hardly knows me, but I don't feel like ruining the good mood further, especially because it's probably one o'clock in the morning by this point and he must be at least a little tired, and his effort's rather commendable. "Maybe you should train with us."

I grumble. "Tried it once and it didn't work. Take it up with the Queen."

He gives me a look. "Why? I remember that day. You seemed fine. Not... sick." His tone is casual, but tinged with curiosity all the same. So maybe he doesn't know I'm Red. Either that or he does know, and he doesn't want me to know that he does. It makes no sense. Elara knows already, so he would have no reason to hide that he does too, but how would he find out? Elara has no reason to tell him. I school my face into a flat expression, thinking quickly about how to answer him without giving anything away.

"It comes and goes. But it's not hereditary, so you don't have to worry about our kids." I wink at him daringly, and I relish in the surprised blush of silver on his cheeks, but the thought of children brings me mixed emotions. On one hand, considering how, er, attractive Cal is, I'm certain I wouldn't mind creating a child with him. Multiple times, maybe, and the thought brings heat to my cheeks under the silver paste. On the other, if Cal didn't know my blood type... what would happen if said children came out Red-blooded? Especially the future Crown Prince...

Cal's recovered already. He leans in close, disrupting my train of thought quickly. His breath brushes the shell of my ear as he whispers, "I'm glad you're already considering it." The blush on my cheeks grows hotter and I'm incredibly glad that the paste is covering it, because I know that if he saw it'd only expand his ego.

"One of us has to." It's a test. He knows it, too. I don't turn to face him, waiting for him to make a move.

Cal laughs softly. "Who says I wasn't?" he whispers gently.

Before the shivers down my spine can even subside, Cal gently slips his hand to my chin. I know what he's going to do, but it's one in the morning and I'm not sure if we should take the risk of doing something so intimate so late at night because it could lead to a lot more, but when he turns my face towards him I don't complain. My breath hitches and he grins lopsidedly at the noise.

And then he kisses me, and Maven and Elara and my Red blood and his crown and the war books scattered on his table don't exist anymore. His touch is not urgent, but gentle, but I don't want gentle - I yank him closer, impossibly close, kissing him deeply and harshly. He responds in kind, and the harsh longing that I'd been burying for so long is reflected in him, too.

I don't want him to give me everything. I don't need him to, either. I want him to give me enough to let me cling to him, the kind prince with kinder eyes. I want him to give me just enough so that he's the only Cal that I remember, but not so much that I let everything go.

And he understands, breaking away briefly for air before coming back again, fiercer and more passionate. He always understood me.