𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 𝙊𝙁 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀

𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲

Maven

The smell of blood and medicine sting my nose as I step into the infirmary. The place is brimming with people both running around on errands and lying injured on cots. This is the price of the earlier attack. We're still not sure how the Lakelanders got into camp, but interrogations are already in place. I was spared participation only because I got injured and required immediate attention.

However, the place is so hectic no one can attend to me. I only manage to get my hands on a bandage and a gauze to clean my wound. An inch deep cut down my bicep from a metal spike someone tried to kill me with. I don't know anything about medicine so I barely patch up the wound and wrap it hastily with the bandages, leaving the skin blue and swollen. Really, it's not very serious— though it is bloody— and I don't mind not getting a nurse to treat me because I've taken the excuse to come to the infirmary just so I can look for him.

He's been in my head since the explosion. After all those weeks without a single word, the guilt and want consuming me in equal measure, being so close to death has given me perspective. He was in the fight and there were so many losses. So much blood. I need to know he's okay. And I need to tell him the truth. Everything.

He saved me.

Despite his indifference and demeanour towards me, I know he cares. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't. He can't have. I want to believe it and I need to hear it from him. He can't avoid me forever. I've dealt with his hate long enough.

Part of me hopes he isn't here. That he is well and in his barracks or helping with the debris and other damage, but I check just to make sure. It is hardest to look among the cots at the back, where all the critically injured lay. Please let him not be there. I go cot by cot, but find no sign of his dark hair and golden eyes. Maybe he isn't here at all and all is well. I go to the right wing, walking past nurses and Healers. If he isn't there I'll look in the barracks. I turn a corner and he stands a few aisles away. He sees me.

Thomas.

He moves at the same time I do, striding away as I move closer. I push past soldiers and errand boys alike. He makes his way into the next wing. I cut through aisles while following his path. He can't avoid me forever.

"Thomas!"

"Excuse me," he goes past a group of patients.

Why are the aisles so narrow? I apologise to a nurse I bump with. He is struggling to get through the entrance of the left wing. I cross over between the cots and stand in front of him.

"Thomas."

He nearly bumps into me, but stops just in time, looking away.

"You're in my way," he says, and then adds as an afterthought, "Your Highness."

It stings. "Don't call me that."

"And how would you prefer, Your Majesty?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Why is he so impossible? "Thomas," I say a little more sharply.

"I'm looking for my friend. I need to know she's okay, so please, move out of my way."

"No."

He finally looks at me, but only for a moment before glaring at some point away from me. "Maven," he warns.

"Why did you save me? If you care so little, why did you? I could've died and you'd be finally free of me. So tell me, exactly, why it is you saved me?" I step closer, using my height to tower over him those few inches I have of advantage. I see with pleasure how it flusters him, even though he's too stubborn to move away.

"I didn't know it was you."

I level my eyes with his. "Liar."

He meets my gaze with fire in his eyes. "What do you want me to say then? That I care? I saved you because I'm still that silly little Red that fell into your trap?"

"I want you to tell me the truth," I snap. "Because if it had been the other way around, I would've done the same thing. I would've saved you. You want to know why? You tell me."

"You're Silver," he seethes.

"And you're Red."

"Why do you keep bothering me?"

"Why do you think?" My raised voice sends a few eyes our way and I step back. His shoulders visibly relax.

"You know why, Thomas," I say quietly. "I never meant to lie to you. I was just scared that you would hate me for who I was, just like everyone else. But you're not like everyone else. Except the joke was on me because you still..."

I sigh.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want... I'm sorry," I repeat. "I shouldn't have..."

By my colours, why is this so hard? Thomas just stares at me with that frown that always seems to decorate his face these days. It makes him look older and cold. I wish I never put it there. Before, he only used to smile. Before, he was like sunshine itself.

But I ruined it like I ruin everything.

"I saved you because I know you hate fighting," he says softly. "I knew you would—you'd be scared. And you wouldn't be able to fight. So I looked for you." Every word he says seems to take effort from him. As if speaking them is difficult. "I didn't think you should be alone because I know how hard it is for you. All that noise."

Fucking hell.

"Thomas," I take a deep breath, "I'm sorry I lied to you." It has been hell for me without you. "It has weighed on me all this time, and I would take it back if I could."

Thomas doesn't say anything for a while, but he doesn't avoid my eyes either.

"Thank you," he says finally. "I need—um—I need to look for Angie."

Angie. Why is that name familiar?

"Of course," I try not to sound disappointed. She's the girl that hugged him on his birthday. The one that likes him. And that he probably likes too. "I'll leave you to it."

"You're bleeding."

"What?"

He points at my right arm, where the dressing has come undone and blood is now oozing into my shirt. I see him study the colour. So unlike the vibrant red that gives him life.

"You too," I notice. There's a stain on his side, the shape of a blooming flower. How did he get hurt?

"It's nothing. I'll be fine. I should really find Angie."

I try not to frown. "Right. I'll see you..." Is it okay to make plans already? The habit comes back easily, but I know he's not ready for it yet. "I'll see you around."

He nods.

I watch him from a distance when I know he isn't looking. He stands over a cot where someone holds a serious injury. He holds her hand and whispers in her ear. I think I hear the attempt of a laugh from her, but it must pain her to do it. He has always cared so much for her.

I leave the infirmary without getting a Healer to see my wound.