Hello, all! Finally, I've added the next chapter! Naturally, all rights go to brilliant Victoria Aveyard! Also, sorry for taking so long (*cough, over a year) to add the next part! Next time, it'll be faster.

"Send him across," Cenra says quietly, waving a hand toward Maven.

All of this seems wrong, as if filtered through smoked glass, too slow to be real. But it is. The Lakelander guards shove Maven ahead, making him stumble toward his brother. He still grins, spitting blood, but tears gleam in his eyes. He's losing control, and the tight grip he keeps on himself is coming undone.

He knows this is the end. Maven Calore has lost.

The guards keep shoving, never letting him catch his balance. It's a pitiful sight. He starts whispering to himself, harried words between peals of sharp laughter.

"I did as you said," he mutters to no one. "I did as you said."

Before he can fall at his brother's feet, Anabel steps forward, planting herself firmly between the pair of them. Protective as a tiger.

"Not a step closer to the true king," she growls. The woman is smart not to trust him, even now, with nothing left.

Maven sinks to a knee and runs a hand through his hair, mussing the dark, wet curls. He glares at his brother with all the fire he can no longer possess. "Afraid of a boy, Cal? I thought you were a warrior."

At Cal's side, Mare tenses, putting a hand to his arm. To stop him or to push him on, I don't know. His throat bobs as he swallows, deciding what to do.

With aching slowness, the last king standing puts a hand on the hilt of his sword. "You'd kill me if our places were exchanged."

Breath whistles through Maven's teeth. He hesitates just long enough, leaving space for a lie. Or the hope of a lie. There is no predicting the mind of Maven Calore, or what face he allows anyone to see.

"Yes, I would," he mutters. He spits blood once more. "Are you proud?"

Cal doesn't reply.

The ice blue eyes shift, jumping to the girl at his brother's side. Mare hardens under his gaze, firm as tempered steel. She has every reason to fear him, but hides it all.

"Are you happy?" Maven asks, almost a whisper. I'm not sure who the question is for.

Neither says a word.


Cal's POV

I can barely move as the queens leave, their guards dragging Salin's limp corpse in their wake. I'm stunned. Nanabel has to usher me toward the dropjets. Her gnarled hand on my back, though so lethal, is a comfort. Mare follows behind us. I can hear her boots sloshing in the receding tide still flooding the forest floor. She walks slowly, staying as far away from Maven as she can. I would too, if I could.

He's ahead of us, lead by Davidson and Julian, to keep him quiet. A Montfort guard grips each of his arms. I can barely look at him, even his back, but I force myself. Our guards drag him as the Lakelanders did, making him stumble through the water. Humiliating him. I know my brother's pride.

The thought runs through my head again. If there was any way to save him, I would do it. There must be a newblood whisper somewhere, stronger than Elara. Davidson hasn't found one yet, but maybe-

I watch as Maven trips, earning a blow to his back from a guard's rifle. I wince for him. The boy who was responsible for the death of my father, the loss of my kingdom, all of Mare's pain. This whole war. The boy who has haunted me, tormenting me to no end. The boy I can't help but love.

We reach the beach, leaving the sparse green forest behind. I breathe a sigh of relief coming out from the cover of the trees. Now, at least, there can be no surprises. Not that there would be any. The Lakelanders don't have any more business with us. They've had their revenge. Salin's waterlogged remains flash across my consciousness. The guards drag Maven towards the second dropjet.

"I'll go with them," Nanabel says gently from beside me, "You need some rest. We'll handle it."

I picture my brother being interrogated by Julian, Davidson, and Nanabel. He wouldn't say anything useful, just petty lies to get them going in the wrong direction. And if there was anything of substance, I, as usual, would be the last person to know. I can't let that happen. Besides, I have my own questions to ask.

"I think I'll ride with him by myself."

"What? Cal, dear, you don't need to-"

I look into my grandmother's fiery eyes that match my own. "I have to talk to him."

Nanabel frowns, shaking her head. "That is unwise. You know how that boy is. His words are his greatest weapon."

"I'll be fine," I assure her, "Besides, he won't have an audience. I'm dismissing the guards."

Nanabel shakes her head, but she walks away. She knows I have made up my mind. I'm stubborn like that. And if I am going to be king, I should be able to make my own decisions. Mare moves to stand next to me, only speaking to me once my grandmother is out of earshot.

"Cal, are you sure you want to do this?"

I turn to her. The wind snatches at her hair, whipping it around her face shadowed by a frown.

"I need to know. I need to know if I can fix him."

Mare looks at me pityingly, like I'm a tender child who can't accept the truth. I find that look so irritating. My fingers itch to alight, but I keep calm, meeting her gentle eyes with burning determination. She is the first to look away. "Do whatever you have to do." She hurries toward the first dropjet. I head toward the guards, who are shoving Maven toward the second jet.

"Hold!"

They freeze at the sound of my voice. Julian and Davidson turn around, confused. I step forward. The guards shove Maven to his knees on the puddled beach. He is dripping wet from being dragged through the flood, his dark uniform heavy and sticking to his ghostly pale skin. He refuses to look at me, instead fixing his eyes firmly on my shoes, speckled with glistening droplets of water. I clear my throat. "I'll take it from here."

"What do you mean, your highness?" Premier Davidson steps out from behind the guards, looking concerned.

"I need a private audience with the prisoner."

The guards look at each other dubiously, but they have been given orders from the king. They bow and walk away. Davidson nods skeptically, but, trusting my judgement, he follows behind them.

Only Julian remains.

"Cal, what are you doing?"

"I have a few things speak to Maven about," I say with as much confidence as I can muster. I glance down at my brother, still unmoving at my feet. "Would you mind releasing him from your singing?"

Julian hesitates, trying to figure out what it going on, then sighs. He understands. I suddenly hear Maven's ragged breath.

"Thank you, Julian," I say softly. He touches my shoulder as he walks away, as if he is giving me his blessing. I watch him as he goes.

I turn back to Maven, still kneeling on the ground. His breath comes quickly. Instinctively, I hold out a hand to help him to his feet. He scoffs.

"I don't need your help," he mutters under his breath, standing up on shaking legs.

I don't respond. I expected as much. I grip his upper arm as the guards had. He flinches at my touch like he expects me to burn him. He's afraid. He's afraid of me, of what I could do to him now that he's weak and unprotected. At least he has a guilty conscience, I think to myself. I keep my eyes on him as we head for the dropjet. He walks slowly, carefully, his fingers twitching, his lips set in a thin line. His ice-blue eyes dart around the beach, taking in everything - the dunes, the sea, the endless sky. As I watch him, I feel a pang in my chest. I haven't been this close to my brother for months. But I push the thought away. I need to have a clear head, not muddled with lost hopes and doubts.

The circling engines roar in my ears, the wind mussing my hair around. We board the jet quickly, and I shut the door behind us, sliding the latch. I release Maven's arm to knock on the sliding door that divides the cockpit from the rest of the jet. The pilot nods through the little round window, flicking on the engine.

I'm used to jet takeoffs by now, but my stomach flips as we climb in altitude, not because of the change but because I am in a locked room with Maven. I've had nightmares about this before. This and beheading my father with a sword. I have the power here, I remind myself, I have the strength. But Nanabel's words come back to me. His words are his greatest weapon. But they can be my weapon too.

I have to find out if I can fix him. I must, before I let anyone else tear away at his mind. Then my chance will be gone.

I turn back to my brother, who sits silently, slender fingers woven together, knuckles white. He doesn't make a sound as I walk past him toward the cabinet in the back of the jet, which is full of extra uniforms, medical supplies, and, most importantly, towels. The nymph episode was bad enough, but I didn't know if I would make it through the flight soaked in water. It gives me chills and makes my stomach churn. I am most vulnerable in water.

I grab a towel from the pile, then, on second thought, take another. I turn and walk over to Maven, still soaked to the skin from being dragged through a flood by a nymph. I toss the second towel into his lap. He flinches when I drop it, hastily regaining composure.

"What's this?" he asks, a shadow of a sneer crossing his gaunt face.

"Thought you might want one," I reply calmly, sitting down across from him.

He gazes at the towel, smoothing it in his lap.

"Won't you just get it over with?" he asks suddenly, his eyes rising to meet mine.

"What?" This catches me off guard. Maven avoids my gaze, biting his lips to keep them from trembling, and repeats himself.

"Just do it, Cal. Don't make it hurt too much... if you still care." His shoulders slump out of the perfect posture he always maintains, his eyes full of pain as he carefully observes the towel, suddenly finding it fascinating. His hands shake in his lap and he digs his nails into his palms to try to still them. I stare, shocked, as he waits. For me to kill him.

What do you think? Comments, thoughts? Both positive and constructive greatly appreciated! ;)