Silver Crown (Red Queen 3 Fan Fiction)

Seven

OMG!!! 400 views!! This.. this is incredible. Thank you so much my readers and I know I didn't update for almost a week and I apologize a thousand times. I was sooooo busy for the past few days... weeks and my writing just didn't meet my expectations. Anyways, I hope you enjoy chapter seven and thank you! :)

Mare Barrow

This can't be happening. The pounding of my fear rings in my rib cage, my ears, my head, in every inch of Mare Barrow.

My legs don't need orders from my paralyzed, impotent brain to do exactly what a normal seventeen year old girl would do in this situation.

They run.

I sprint to the entrance, clutching onto my still sore stomach and launch myself against the door. But the door doesn't budge and I'm only left with another sore body part. Instead I hear the click of the door lock, jailing me inside the room.

I instantly curse the extravagant Silvers for not using some other element for a door lock, anything but metal.

I spit out a whole list of cuss words, still earnestly fighting against the locked door. I latch my hands on the door handle and simultaneously wrench it in every direction.

"Poor Mare. Didn't realize I'm not the one with a silencing choker?" Evangeline mocks from across the room, surveying my stunt with the door.

Where the hell are you Maven! my mind shrieks. But my mentality tells me there's no way he'll find me all the way across on the opposite side of the palace, and the brilliantly intelligent Mare knows it too.

The Sentinels walk briskly towards me and I back off from the door as my eyes riffle through the ballroom, searching for a table knife, fork, spork, anything that I can wield as a weapon other than an empty hand burning a pinkish red from the duel with the door.

Really Mare? Sight-seeing isn't really going to help your goddamn life at the moment.

I lose my patience. I don't think. I just scramble across the room to the piled stash of ballroom furnitures and stumble over drawers, slide across sheeted tables, knock over 100 crown worth of crystal vases, skimming for a tangible weapon.

A 5 inch blade whizzes right through my wildly tangled braid and stabs my right wall. I halt to a stop, checking for any body disjunctions. Thankfully, I don't feel any blood leaking out of my systems or body displacements. After a brief inspection of my body, I turn my attention to the direction of the blade.

Evangeline stands a good thirty feet away, thumbing a second blade, predator-like eyes pinning me still.

I stop myself before I grab the blade and fling it right back at Evangeline. Instead, I hold my ground, anticipating someone catching up with me and wait for the blind moment when Evangeline won't be able to manipulate the blade into my throat.

Exactly two heartbeats later, a hand yanks my hair back and I stumble backwards, as I expected. At the same time, I snag the blade off the wall and crash down hard on the floor with whoever was about to my first kill-client since my capture.

Before the Sentinel breaks my neck, I don't hesitate, not even a milisecond and let the blade dig deep into the Sentinel's chest. I land right on top of him, hands firm on the blade like holding onto dear life.

A horrendously deafening screech rattles the room, vibrating across the room. It feels as if the banshee's scream alone might shatter the ballroom into a million thousand pieces. And my ears, I lose sound for a few seconds.

When the scream eases, I take heavy breaths and let my hands drench in silvery liquid. When my hands slip off the blank-faced Sentinel, my hands are gloved in silver.

I react faster than the predator does and thieve a sidegun from the Sentinel's side hip and dig out the blade from his chest, leaving a grusome open in his left pectorals.

One down. Two to go.

"Sentinel Marinos?" Evangeline cries, almost pleading. Her words for once doesn't sound like it comes from the usual sadistic silver witch, but from a girl knocked off her heels from the superhuman screech. At least I'm not the only one with an almost deaf pair of ears.

When he doesn't respond, because I kindly un-invited him in our little death party, I hear the thumping of another pair of boots against the floor, sneaking towards the dining table I'm ducked beneath in.

I silently breathe in and out and drape an almost comforting charm on myself.

I may not be the lightning girl anymore, but I'm still the girl who escaped death more than I can count. And I intend to escape it just once more. Just once more.

I turn, kick up on my feet and send the dagger zimming right into his neck, silencing him in a second.

But when I let the dagger jam into his neck chords, I'm taking in the sight of the unmistakable greyish diamond eyes.

I gasp, choking in my own breath caught midway in my throat when his eyes bore into the murderer's.

His hands reach the dagger sticking out of his neck, ruby red beads trickling down his neck and dotting his shirt.

A second scream follows not long after.