War Storm
Page 121
I guess I understand that.
She wasn’t enough for me either. Enough to make me change, to pull me back from what I’ve willingly become.
I wonder if Thomas would have been enough.
As usual, the splitting headache comes whenever I think his name, or remember his face, or feel his touch on my hands. I lie back against the cot in the corner, pressing my fists against my eyes. Trying to relieve the pressure of the memory and this place.
I know less than I should about Montfort, let alone its capital, Ascendant. Even trying to plan an escape from here would be a waste of my time and limited energy. Of course, I’ll take my chances in Archeon. Lose them in the tunnels after setting another army on my brother. The last revenge of Maven Calore, before I disappear. To where, I don’t know. It’s just another waste to try to plan beyond Archeon. I’ll cross that bridge when it comes.
Certainly Mare will suspect. She knows me well enough by now. I might have to kill her, at the end of this.
Her life or mine.
A difficult choice, but I’ll choose myself.
I do it every time.
“We need to know where to enter the tunnels.”
At first, I wonder if I’m actually dreaming. If that piece of my mother has finally been washed away.
But that’s impossible.
I open my eyes to see Mare standing on the other side of the bars, far enough to be out of reach. The guards are gone, or at least out of sight. Probably gathered at either end of the corridor, ready to be called upon if necessary.
It’s been two days since I was summoned to the premier’s council, and she doesn’t look like she’s slept since. The lightning girl is worn, with shadows beneath her eyes and cheekbones. Still, she looks better than she did when she was my prisoner, in spite of the gowns and jewels I kept her in. Her eyes spark here. She isn’t hollowed out, aching to the bone. I know that sensation intimately. I feel it here now, and I felt it when I was a king, shielded by a silent throne.
Slowly, I rise up on my elbows, peering at her over the toes of my shoes.
“Two days to agree to my terms,” I say, counting off on my fingers. “Must have been quite the argument.”
“Careful, Maven.” She barks out the warning, all rough edges. “Any difficulty and I’ll be happy to call Tyton down here.”
The other newblood who shares her ability is a stranger, with his white hair and inscrutable eyes. Stronger than me, she said back in the council. And I have seen such strength from Mare Barrow. Certainly his lightning will shred me, nerve from nerve. Not that it will help them. I can withstand torture. I know how to keep my mouth shut, even if it means dying.
Still, I don’t fancy being turned into a lightbulb this early in the day.
“No, I’d rather you didn’t,” I answer her. “I do so enjoy our time alone.”
Her eyes narrow, dancing over me. Even at a distance, I can hear her sharp intake of breath. I smirk a little, satisfied that I can still draw such a reaction from her. Even if her response is firmly rooted in fear. That’s something, at least. Better than apathy. Better than nothing at all.
“I suppose this is the end of that,” I continue, swinging my legs out and onto the floor. The metal is cool against my forehead as I lean, bracing myself against the bars. “No more whispers between Maven and Mare.”
She sneers, and I brace myself for the inevitable spray of spit. It never comes.
“I’m done trying to understand you,” she hisses, still out reach. But she doesn’t flinch when I look her over. Doesn’t tremble when I raise a hand, stretching out my fingers to brush within an inch of her face.
Because it isn’t me she fears, not really.
Her eyes flicker, looking down at the floor of my cell. At the Stone set neatly in cement.
I laugh, deep in my throat. It echoes off the walls.
“I really did break something in you, didn’t I?”
Mare recoils like I’ve struck her. I can almost see the bruise forming on her heart. She grits her teeth, straightening her spine. “Nothing that I can’t fix,” she grinds out.
I can feel the smile on my face turn bitter, tainted, corrupted. Like the rest of me. “If only I could say the same.”
My words echo, soften, and die.
She crosses her arms and looks at her feet. I watch her keenly, trying to commit every piece of her to memory. “The tunnels, Maven.”
“You heard my terms,” I reply. “I go with you, I lead your armies . . .”
Her head snaps up. If not for the Stone beneath my feet, I might feel the hum of static. “That isn’t good enough,” she says.
Time to call her bluff. “Then electrocute me. Call your torturer and risk your war on the words bought with my blood. Trust that they’re the truth. Are you willing to do that?”
She throws up her hands, exasperated. Like I’m a child instead of a king. It rankles, sandpaper on my skin. “We need a compromise, at least. Where the tunnels start.”
I raise an eyebrow coolly. “And where they end?”
“That’s your piece of the puzzle to keep. Until we need it.”
“Hmm,” I hum out, tapping a finger to my chin. I even start to pace, putting on a grand show for my rapturous audience. Her eyes track my movements, and I’m reminded of the panther Evangeline’s mother keeps so close. “I assume you’ll be coming along?”
She barely scoffs. Her mouth curves into a delicious scowl. “It isn’t like you to ask empty, stupid questions.”
I just shrug. “Whatever keeps you standing here.”
To that she has no retort. Whatever words she wants to say die on her lips. If only I could touch them. Feel the skin beneath my fingers, smooth and full and pulsing with hot, red blood. Part of me wonders why she is still so transfixing, even though I know she’s my sworn enemy. That I would kill her, and she would kill me. Another mystery of my mind that will never be unraveled.
She stands firm, letting me look. Never wavering beneath my gaze. Letting me see past the mask I helped her make. There is exhaustion, and hope, and sadness, of course. A sorrow for so many things.
My brother among them.
“He broke your heart, didn’t he?”
Mare only exhales, her chest falling.
“What a fool,” I whisper, speaking the familiar thought aloud.
It doesn’t bother her. She tosses her head, letting brown and gray hair flip over her shoulder. Revealing the bare skin beneath, and the brand still clear as day. M for Maven. M for mine. M for monster. M for Mare.
“So did you.”
A sour taste floods my mouth. I expected her to quail, but I’m the one who has to look away. “At least I had a good reason,” I mutter.
Her laugh is sharp and harsh, a single bark that snaps like a whipcrack.
“He did it for the crown,” I hiss.
Mare leers at me, but never moves her feet. Never gets close enough to touch. “And you didn’t, Maven?”
“I did it for her, of course.” I try to sound detached, matter-of-fact. The cold, broken, doomed Maven. “And what she made me into.”
“You keep blaming your mother. I suppose that’s easy.” My heart leaps in my chest when her feet slide. Moving sideways. Not closer, not farther. Now it’s her turn to prowl. “You think Cal’s father didn’t make him into something too? You think we all aren’t made or unmade by someone else?” Even though she’s only walking, it feels like a dance. I mirror her movements, stepping with her. She’s more graceful than I am, a lithe thief born of many years and many twists of fate. “But we all still have the ability to choose, in the end. And you chose to keep the blood on your hands.”
She wasn’t enough for me either. Enough to make me change, to pull me back from what I’ve willingly become.
I wonder if Thomas would have been enough.
As usual, the splitting headache comes whenever I think his name, or remember his face, or feel his touch on my hands. I lie back against the cot in the corner, pressing my fists against my eyes. Trying to relieve the pressure of the memory and this place.
I know less than I should about Montfort, let alone its capital, Ascendant. Even trying to plan an escape from here would be a waste of my time and limited energy. Of course, I’ll take my chances in Archeon. Lose them in the tunnels after setting another army on my brother. The last revenge of Maven Calore, before I disappear. To where, I don’t know. It’s just another waste to try to plan beyond Archeon. I’ll cross that bridge when it comes.
Certainly Mare will suspect. She knows me well enough by now. I might have to kill her, at the end of this.
Her life or mine.
A difficult choice, but I’ll choose myself.
I do it every time.
“We need to know where to enter the tunnels.”
At first, I wonder if I’m actually dreaming. If that piece of my mother has finally been washed away.
But that’s impossible.
I open my eyes to see Mare standing on the other side of the bars, far enough to be out of reach. The guards are gone, or at least out of sight. Probably gathered at either end of the corridor, ready to be called upon if necessary.
It’s been two days since I was summoned to the premier’s council, and she doesn’t look like she’s slept since. The lightning girl is worn, with shadows beneath her eyes and cheekbones. Still, she looks better than she did when she was my prisoner, in spite of the gowns and jewels I kept her in. Her eyes spark here. She isn’t hollowed out, aching to the bone. I know that sensation intimately. I feel it here now, and I felt it when I was a king, shielded by a silent throne.
Slowly, I rise up on my elbows, peering at her over the toes of my shoes.
“Two days to agree to my terms,” I say, counting off on my fingers. “Must have been quite the argument.”
“Careful, Maven.” She barks out the warning, all rough edges. “Any difficulty and I’ll be happy to call Tyton down here.”
The other newblood who shares her ability is a stranger, with his white hair and inscrutable eyes. Stronger than me, she said back in the council. And I have seen such strength from Mare Barrow. Certainly his lightning will shred me, nerve from nerve. Not that it will help them. I can withstand torture. I know how to keep my mouth shut, even if it means dying.
Still, I don’t fancy being turned into a lightbulb this early in the day.
“No, I’d rather you didn’t,” I answer her. “I do so enjoy our time alone.”
Her eyes narrow, dancing over me. Even at a distance, I can hear her sharp intake of breath. I smirk a little, satisfied that I can still draw such a reaction from her. Even if her response is firmly rooted in fear. That’s something, at least. Better than apathy. Better than nothing at all.
“I suppose this is the end of that,” I continue, swinging my legs out and onto the floor. The metal is cool against my forehead as I lean, bracing myself against the bars. “No more whispers between Maven and Mare.”
She sneers, and I brace myself for the inevitable spray of spit. It never comes.
“I’m done trying to understand you,” she hisses, still out reach. But she doesn’t flinch when I look her over. Doesn’t tremble when I raise a hand, stretching out my fingers to brush within an inch of her face.
Because it isn’t me she fears, not really.
Her eyes flicker, looking down at the floor of my cell. At the Stone set neatly in cement.
I laugh, deep in my throat. It echoes off the walls.
“I really did break something in you, didn’t I?”
Mare recoils like I’ve struck her. I can almost see the bruise forming on her heart. She grits her teeth, straightening her spine. “Nothing that I can’t fix,” she grinds out.
I can feel the smile on my face turn bitter, tainted, corrupted. Like the rest of me. “If only I could say the same.”
My words echo, soften, and die.
She crosses her arms and looks at her feet. I watch her keenly, trying to commit every piece of her to memory. “The tunnels, Maven.”
“You heard my terms,” I reply. “I go with you, I lead your armies . . .”
Her head snaps up. If not for the Stone beneath my feet, I might feel the hum of static. “That isn’t good enough,” she says.
Time to call her bluff. “Then electrocute me. Call your torturer and risk your war on the words bought with my blood. Trust that they’re the truth. Are you willing to do that?”
She throws up her hands, exasperated. Like I’m a child instead of a king. It rankles, sandpaper on my skin. “We need a compromise, at least. Where the tunnels start.”
I raise an eyebrow coolly. “And where they end?”
“That’s your piece of the puzzle to keep. Until we need it.”
“Hmm,” I hum out, tapping a finger to my chin. I even start to pace, putting on a grand show for my rapturous audience. Her eyes track my movements, and I’m reminded of the panther Evangeline’s mother keeps so close. “I assume you’ll be coming along?”
She barely scoffs. Her mouth curves into a delicious scowl. “It isn’t like you to ask empty, stupid questions.”
I just shrug. “Whatever keeps you standing here.”
To that she has no retort. Whatever words she wants to say die on her lips. If only I could touch them. Feel the skin beneath my fingers, smooth and full and pulsing with hot, red blood. Part of me wonders why she is still so transfixing, even though I know she’s my sworn enemy. That I would kill her, and she would kill me. Another mystery of my mind that will never be unraveled.
She stands firm, letting me look. Never wavering beneath my gaze. Letting me see past the mask I helped her make. There is exhaustion, and hope, and sadness, of course. A sorrow for so many things.
My brother among them.
“He broke your heart, didn’t he?”
Mare only exhales, her chest falling.
“What a fool,” I whisper, speaking the familiar thought aloud.
It doesn’t bother her. She tosses her head, letting brown and gray hair flip over her shoulder. Revealing the bare skin beneath, and the brand still clear as day. M for Maven. M for mine. M for monster. M for Mare.
“So did you.”
A sour taste floods my mouth. I expected her to quail, but I’m the one who has to look away. “At least I had a good reason,” I mutter.
Her laugh is sharp and harsh, a single bark that snaps like a whipcrack.
“He did it for the crown,” I hiss.
Mare leers at me, but never moves her feet. Never gets close enough to touch. “And you didn’t, Maven?”
“I did it for her, of course.” I try to sound detached, matter-of-fact. The cold, broken, doomed Maven. “And what she made me into.”
“You keep blaming your mother. I suppose that’s easy.” My heart leaps in my chest when her feet slide. Moving sideways. Not closer, not farther. Now it’s her turn to prowl. “You think Cal’s father didn’t make him into something too? You think we all aren’t made or unmade by someone else?” Even though she’s only walking, it feels like a dance. I mirror her movements, stepping with her. She’s more graceful than I am, a lithe thief born of many years and many twists of fate. “But we all still have the ability to choose, in the end. And you chose to keep the blood on your hands.”
