The Pain in Our Veins (Maven Time Travel)

Chapter Eight

I feed the same story to Holland as before, dig up the memory of Thomas's corpse and the tears it wrought. He knew I wasn't the same. He knew something in me died. He couldn't have known how.

But I didn't expect the hug.

I stiffen, arms curling as I remember affection is meant to be reciprocated. He is warm, same as Mare, but less delicate, a firm brick seated at the edge of a fireplace. No fanfare. No romance. Only sympathy I didn't deserve.

"I wish I had been there." Holland grips me tight, a vice of arms and reckless truth. "I would've understood."

"You would've been killed too." Another death on my weary conscience. "Don't pity me."

Too late. Holland's eyes already shine, quivering as he draws back. "You were so young."

"We all are. Nothing special."

Special. Mother has always worked to make me special, to make my star as bright as Cal's. She carved out my imperfections, my weakness, the colors in my jewel that prevented me from shining. Yet there were some things she could not fix. Some burns she could not soothe, some cracks she could not smooth, the wounds she could never allow to scab over.

No matter. Pain made me strong, after all.

Holland ushers me through the hallways to a servant's passage, one I make note of for later. A few twists, a few straightaways, a simple passage a smarter man would blindfold me from. Grass crunches beneath my boots, and wind rushes in my ears. Stars twinkle in the canopy above. They've made their way into our observatory.

"Excuse me if I don't curtsey." Farley is arrogant as always, but her neck is a different story. Jagged flesh has torn and healed in a haphazard line from jaw to throat, and it takes all I have not to stare.

Mare's voice creeps from the shadows. "Farley."

Her head jerks away from her. "And the other one?"

"Holland's bringing him. Any second now." A woman I don't recognize shivers in excitement, beckoning for me to step into the light. Any other time, I would hesitate. Any other time, I would let them guess. But I am not who I used to be. I must be more reckless, more inviting, all the little moments that made her fall for me the first time. I can't let her slip away again.

She gasps. "Maven."

"You're not alone, Mare. You've never been alone." My hand caresses my coat instead of her cheek, stopped by the wave of Farley's gun. I side eye her. "Do you mind?"

She sneers. "I want to hear it from your lips, little prince. Tell me what you told him."

I sneer right back. "I want to join the guard."

Wrong move. Her gun aligns itself with my head, finger steady on the trigger. The cold metal seeps into my forehead, one click from ending me forever. She stares me down. "Why?"

"Because I know what you know. The world can't go on like this. Not without collapse, or worse." I raise my hands in surrender. "Our days are numbered, and I know the winning side."

She tuts. "Self interest. I can work with that."

"If only." I smile painfully. "When I was twelve, my father sent me to the war front to toughen me up, to make me more like my brother. Cal was perfect, you see, so why couldn't I be?"

Farley sniffs. "We have no use for jealous little boys."

"I wish it was jealousy that drove me here. That would be easier to face." I swallow. "There was a boy from the frozen north, a soldier like any other. He befriended me, until he–" I wrench away, hiding my face. "His name was Thomas, and I watched him die. I could've saved him, but my guards held me back. They said his life wasn't worth mine."

Holland clears his throat. "The boy speaks true. He's felt this way for months now, ever since he returned from the front."

I almost laugh, choking, screaming without sound or the courage to show it. My face cannot twitch as I swear on my colors, nor when Mare thanks me for what I've done. I've gone numb.

The sky twinkles above, begging me to leave. Everyone else has. But I sink into the grass until my knees are stained, until a more urgent thought brings me to my feet. Mandy is in the gardens. And my knife is in my pocket.

She doesn't see me as I creep behind her. The knife glints against her neck, and she tenses. "Brother?"

"I'm not here for your games." My voice lowers to a dangerous octave. "Return us to a time before Queenstrial, before you murdered me, before a part of me died forever."

She grips the handle, but I grip it tighter. "I don't understand."

"We're not saving Mother. We're saving an innocent. Someone I killed myself." Her neck has started to bleed, and I almost finish the job. "Take me to when I was fifteen."

"That's not how it works."

"Then make it work."

"I tried." Her voice is garbled, thick with blood and tears. "I tried, Maven. But you can't undo it. I don't know why, but–"

"Do you want to die, Mandy?"

She shoves me, sliding the blade until it tumbles from my hand. Her knees buckle as she clutches her neck. "Go ahead. I'm not going back. Not again." Her voice shakes. "You can't make me go back again."

"What do you mean, again?"

"I'm sorry." She collapses on the grass. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm–"

"I don't want apologies."

"I'm sorry!" A screech, one that sends me stumbling backwards. "I can't. I can't save someone else while she's still dead. I can't stop you from killing him when I–"

"When you what?" The knife glints at my feet, and I kneel to pick it up. "Who did you kill, Mandy?"

"I didn't." A choked sob. "I watched. I watched as Papa knocked her to the ground, watched her neck crack in two and spill silver on the floor. I watched it, again and again, but I couldn't move. Something stopped me, must've–"

"Who?"

"Stepma. I couldn't save her, but I can–" Screech. "Mother. I need Mother. I need her to make it go away. I need to–I need to save her–"

"You're not making sense."

"I saw her in my textbook. I saw Stepma's eyes in her, that ash blonde hair, her silver blood, and I knew, I knew that I could save her, that it would all go away, that she would put Papa in the grave where he belongs and we would be a family." She looks up at me, and I can't look away. "You understand, don't you?"

"I think I do."

"I can't save him." Mandy hoists herself to her feet. "I'm sorry."

I bite my lip instead of stabbing her, turning without a word. She won't save him. No matter how I threaten her, her mind is too far gone to try. The knife falls from my hand.

I don't bother to pick it up.