I do. When I was a boy, your little brother. Always trailing at your heels, eager to spend every moment I could with you. I used to ask to sleep in your room, didn’t I?”
Cal narrows his eyes. “You were afraid of the dark.”
“And then I wasn’t. Just like that.” I snap my fingers, expecting him to flinch. He does not. “Her doing, of course. She couldn’t be the mother to a whimpering, weakling son afraid of shadows.” I begin to pace, circling him. Cal doesn’t give me the satisfaction of movement, staying rooted to the spot. He doesn’t fear a physical attack from me. Even without his flame, he would have no issue subduing me. I’m little more than a moth fluttering around light. Or at least, that’s how he sees me. It’s an advantage I’ve used so many times. “You never noticed when she took things from me, small pieces. You didn’t see the change.”
As I pass behind him, his shoulders curl, riddled with tension. “That isn’t my fault, Maven,” he whispers, his voice ragged. He doesn’t believe it. So fucking easy to read. I almost laugh. It isn’t difficult to make him bleed.
“So when she cut you out entirely, took my love for you, twisted everything—you didn’t notice. You didn’t care.” I pause in my steps, leaving us side by side. He has to turn his head to look at me, to watch as I school my face into careful blankness. “I’ve always wondered why.”
Cal has no answer, or can’t find the strength to speak. I’m better at pain than he is. I always have been.
“It doesn’t matter now, of course,” I say. “My mother wasn’t the only one who took from me—you took something from me too.”
Even the hint of her makes him bristle.
“I didn’t take Mare,” he snarls, rounding on me. I shift before he can grab my arm, his fingers barely brushing the sleeve of my jacket.
I grin up at him, speaking gently, my voice soft and taunting. “It didn’t surprise me. You were used to it, having whatever you wanted. Seeing only what you wanted to see. In the end, I realized you knew what was happening to me, what Mother was doing. It was in pieces, in slow shifts, but you still saw it—and you did nothing to stop her.” Tsking like a scolding teacher, I shake my head. “Long before you knew what a monster I was, you did monstrous things too.”
Cal stares at me, eyes full of accusation. And longing. This time he takes me by surprise when he steps closer, and I fall back on my heels. “Did your mother destroy you entirely? Is there anything left of you?” he asks, searching my face. “Anything that isn’t hers?”
He won’t tell me what he’s looking for, but I know. Despite the walls my mother built around me, Cal always manages to weasel through. His hunting eyes fill me with sorrow. Even now, he thinks there’s something in me left to save—and to mourn. There is no escaping our fate, not for either of us. He must sentence me to die. And I must accept death. But Cal wants to know if he’s killing his brother along with the monster—or if the brother died long ago.
Cut for cut, my mother whispers, louder now, taunting. The words slice like a razor.
It would hurt him deeply, wound him forever, if I let him glimpse what little is left of me. That I’m still here, in some forgotten corner, just waiting to be found. I could ruin him with one glance, one echo of the brother he remembers. Or I could free him of me. Make the choice for him. Give my brother one last proof of the love I can no longer feel, even if he never knows it.
I weigh the choice in my heart, each side heavy and impossible. For one terrifying moment, I don’t know what to do.
Despite all my mother’s fine work, I can’t find it in myself to land that final blow.
I drop my gaze, forcing a detached smirk to my lips.
“I would do it all again, Cal,” I tell him, lying with such grace. It feels easy, after so many years behind a mask. “If given the choice to go back, I would let her change me. I would watch you kill him. I’d send you to the arena. And I’d get it right. I’d give you what you deserve. I’d kill you now if I could. I’d