𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 𝙊𝙁 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀

𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿

Maven

Being back in training with Lerolan is as tough as it ever was, though I try not to show it. Every time I struggle or lag behind I think of Anabel at the ball and push myself even further. I will not have her diminish me like that ever again. I've had enough of it.

Still, when it comes to using our abilities to shoot targets, all my will and determination seem to wane. And every time, Lerolan makes sure to point out how horrible I am. It makes my insides burn.

Yet it was even worse when the King watched. He stayed for a week but watched over my training for just one day. And it was torture. I tried to fight my hardest, go beyond my limits until my lungs were on fire and I was sure I'd faint, but when I spared a glance at him, he was already moving away with a frown on his face.

I spent my afternoons hiding in my tent so I wouldn't face him, though it only spared me a couple of times. Some days there was no escaping it and I would have to endure his cold treatment and silence. It felt even worse when the Reds stared. I tried to avoid them the best I could, but it seemed like Thomas was everywhere. He saw me as everything he hated. A Silver, a prince, a son of the King.

It was a distraction and I knew it. That nagging feeling of him watching wasn't supposed to bother me as much as it did. I thought it wouldn't sting when I came back, but I was wrong. He can still shake me like no one else can.

And I hate it.

Or at least, I should. But I just can't bring myself to.

Things didn't change much in my routine when the King left. Training, eating, meetings, sleep. And avoiding Thomas in between. I changed my sitting place in the cafeteria so I wouldn't be able to look at him, though he still could if he wanted to. Some days I could almost feel his gaze on me, but whenever I chanced a look he would be chatting with some other Red. It was all in my head.

I almost laugh at the irony. If anyone, I know how powerful it is to have it all in my head.

"It is strength," Mother says. And I believe it because I don't know anything else.

After shoving a few more bites of fruit into my mouth I get up and leave the room for training. Lerolan will yell at me if I'm late. He only gets more difficult to please the more progress I make. Even though he'll never admit that I've made any, I can read him well enough to tell.

If only he would share that with Whitefire.

I begin stretching as soon as I get to the training field, where a few soldiers are already waiting. The moment Lerolan arrives, he sends us jogging around the field, jumping over moving hurdles to warm up. By the end of the first lap, I'm already sweating and panting, but we go again and again until it gets hard to breathe.

Right away Lerolan sets us up for target practice. We line up side by side and gather up our elements. I snap my bracelets, but I can't make it light up long enough to use. I'm tired and panting from the earlier run. I can't concentrate. I cannot fail. Lerolan studies us one by one, correcting stances and techniques. There are two soldiers before me. I keep snapping my bracelets. Please. Please work.

"Use your whole arm to power it up," I hear him tell the person beside me.

For fuck's sake, Maven, get it done. I'm getting agitated and it doesn't help things. Despite the long hours Mother has spent with me, this always seems to be beside me. I can't bring myself to use my flame as a weapon.

"Calore—"

BOOM!

An explosion in a nearby building sends all of us to the ground, followed by a blare of alarms all over the camp.

I feel equal parts confusion, fear, and relief. Lerolan didn't scold and shame me before everyone else, but that explosion means something is off and I am terrified about not knowing what is going on. And I'm not the only one. All around me I see confused glances and scattered panic. People run in different directions and I feel the ground beneath me shake as another explosion goes off farther away. I sit up. There are gunshots somewhere. Lerolan yells. He's always yelling. I focus on my breathing. You can't lose yourself now, Maven.

You do what others tell you. Her voice is louder now. You do not fail.

I stand up, try to ground myself, listen. It's the Lakelanders, someone says. I need to help find them. I need to use my flame.

How did they even get in camp? Faintly, I remember a meeting where somebody mentioned that their attacks were getting bolder lately. This certainly proves that.

"Move!"

"I saw a group North!"

"We need a Swift by the barracks!"

The fear festers. And the headache isn't far behind. Fear is weakness. I need to push past it. I must not feel. I need to use my flame. My legs move me further into the chaos. I carry no weapons, but I'm one myself. The bracelets on my wrists snap, bursting flames, they grow uncontrollably and then die down quickly. My breath quickens.

Fuck, Maven, focus.

I birth another fire and concentrate on keeping it up and under my control. It flickers but stays on. Good. It's good. I venture a few steps and watch it stay. The sound around me shuts down as I focus on the fire in my hands. It grows smaller. You do not fail, you do not fail, you do not—

"GET DOWN!" A hand pulls me to the ground just before a bomb goes off nearby.

The earth rumbles and debris flies everywhere. I'm panting. I could've died. When I turn to the person who saved me I recognise the honey eyes and dark hair, but before I can even take a breath to thank him, he disappears. I'm about to call him back, but a new round of gunshots goes off and I have to take cover.

He saved me.

The entirety of the fight reaches my ears, overwhelming my senses. Fear is weakness, Mother hisses. Right now I can barely hear her over the brawl. I try to get up, to try again. Soldiers and workers alike pass me by wearing injuries or panic. Thomas must be out there. I step into the fight, giving up on my flame and instead using my bare hands.

But no matter how hard I try, I'm no soldier.