The Pain in Our Veins (Maven Time Travel)

Chapter Thirteen

She knew.

She knew, and said nothing. She knew, and let me fail.

My hands shake, on the verge of rebellion. It doesn't matter. It can't. Mother and I have bigger things to worry about than my feelings. Still, it stings. Even now, Mother leaves me in the dark.

A chuckle echoes behind me. "So you showed up."

I whir around to find blonde hair and scarred flesh, a red scarf dangling across her shoulder. Farley toys with the gun at her hip. "Little boys do like to run."

"Was this a test, then?" My voice is soft as midnight. "Pushing her to reject me?"

"You did that yourself, princeling." She sniffs. "Targets. Now."

"Answer the question."

Her gun flicks my direction. "You think I care about your playground romance?"

I take a step forward. "I think you care a lot."

It happens so fast. One moment, Farley is across from me. The next, she's behind me, pressing the gun to the back of my head. "You won't live to find out."

Heat sizzles my hair and flows through the metal, forcing her to drop it. "Ptolemus Samos." Evangeline's wails fill my head. "Reynald Iral. Belicos Lerolan. Ellyn McCanthos."

"That's more like it." She rubs her burned hand. "Good little princeling."

"I am not a dog."

"That remains to be seen." Farley turns her heel, halting once I lay a hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"

"I want to add another name to the list." I straighten. "Tiberias Calore VII. My brother."

She hesitates. A moment of truth, a moment of lies, a moment my future hangs within. Her lips part.

And they say yes.

The gown is radiant and uncomfortable, a cage of silk and jewels that ripples in the light. The sleeves puff in a way that is meant to be delicate, undermined by the tone of her muscles. I half expect her to tear it.

"You look beautiful." I reach for her hand, but she shies away. "You always do."

She sniffs. "Wouldn't want your bride to look ugly now, would we?"

"You probably would. We're spiteful creatures, you and I." I lean against the wall, chuckling. "What a sight that would be."

"Your mother would skin me on the spot."

"She could try. She'd have to get through me." Another chuckle. "Mother is not as powerful as she believes."

Mare's head tilts. "Neither are you."

"Be less hostile at the ball. You'll draw attention."

"Giving me orders, now, are we?" She storms past me, clawing at the doorknob. "You were right about Cal: You're a better tyrant than he could ever be."

Heat rushes to my cheeks. "I ask for your sake, not mine."

She folds her arms, flouncing down the hall without a word. If I am to protect her, I must earn her trust again. Yet a deeper part of me would rather watch her burn. A part of me I don't want to confront.

The ball hums with guests, all draped in jewels, sparkling from the chandeliers to the glasses of champagne. I stick close to Mare's side, and she huffs. I don't take her arm, even as Cal takes Evangeline's. She sneers. "Friction, lovebirds?"

Mare bares her teeth. "Someone's been telling lies."

Evangeline raises a brow. "You're learning this now?"

"Shut up, Evangeline." I sharpen. "No one asked you."

Mare chuckles despite herself, but her gaze hardens as I reach for her arm. "For propriety," I whisper. She can't disagree.

But she can step on my feet. She can shatter my glass as I hand her a drink, scrunch her face as I whisper of our targets. They drift by, Belicos Lerolan and his children, as does Ellyn Mccanthos. Say hi.

Mare shakes as Ellyn grips her hand. "This one suits you. Not like fancy Samos." Her voice drops to a whisper. "She'll make a sad queen and you a happy princess, mark my words."

She leaves as quickly as she came, off to chatter in the crowd. I lower my voice. "This is what you chose."

Mare bites her lip. "You know that isn't true."

Her river boy brings us our drinks, head trained to the ground as her eyes widen in recognition. She can't acknowledge him, not in the open. The lights flicker, once, twice, before cutting completely. Shouts ring out as bullets fire, screams of the dying and those who fear it. Fire cuts through the darkness, one that is not my own.

I hold my breath.

It roars as another gunshot booms, exploding into an inferno that engulfs several civilians. The guard will be blamed, another atrocity to the list, but it's not like Cal would've suffered were it known. He kills dozens more on the battlefield each day.

The lights turn on.

Beside me, Mare shakes. The shatters of the explosion lie on full display, black marks and broken glass, and I tighten my grip on her arm. "Cal's," I whisper. "The explosion came from the fire."

As if on cue, he rushes towards us, grabbing onto me before Mare and inspecting my uniform. I make a show of protest, brushing him off and shaking his shoulders. "You made an explosion?"

He blinks, averting his eyes. "How could you tell?"

"You made a twenty foot flame in the middle of a crowded ballroom: someone was going to die." I ignore the bullet in his shoulder, shaking him some more. It should be lodging further, his blood spilling faster, his life growing fainter by the minute. He'll go to a healer. He has to. But I will make him suffer as long as possible.

He hangs his head. "You're right."

"I always am."

"I wasn't thinking. It was all–" He swallows. "It was all too fast."

Mare watches us, eyes darting from me to him, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and pressing it to his wound. He winces. "I need a healer."

"You need a brain."

"Enough." Mare baps me on the head. "He's your brother. Stop accusing him of murder."

I stare at her, and she flinches, moreso when I let go of his arm. "You should go. See what the Guard has done, and how we might prevent it."

Cal frowns. "That's not her job."

"No." Her voice falls to a hush. "I'll go."

There's nothing to say. Not anymore. Mother pulls me away and leaves Cal in the cold, whispering of the next stage in our plans. She isn't angry. She isn't proud. My rebellion might as well have not existed, the change in our plans that was Cal's bullet. It would never have killed him. I knew it wouldn't. I might as well have shouted it to the wind.