But my conversation with Leon has reminded me of something crucial: My guardant isn’t the only one who will be in grave danger after tonight—whether my attempt to kill the emperor succeeds or not. Anyone close to me could be tortured.
“We’re not. I don’t want or need any friends.” Even as I say it, I want to claw the words back.
Lifting my head, I meet Maeva’s glistening, rage-filled eyes.
She doesn’t say another word. She just turns and walks out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Three hours pass before I can haul myself out of bed. I splash water on my face and walk through the imperius’s common room, ignoring Deitra’s frown and Micah’s wince.
I find Maeva walking with Brenin on the way to the dining hall.
Dinner. It must be time for dinner. That explains the scent of cooking meat and bread. My stomach churns uneasily at the thought of food.
“Maeva.”
She stiffens. “Yes?”
Her eyes are so cold. I swallow. “Can I talk to you?”
“Fine.”
Brenin sidles away. “I’ll catch up with you.”
“I wanted to apologize,” I say when he’s gone. “For earlier.”
Maeva folds her arms.
“Look …” I shove a loose tendril of hair off my face. “There’s no excuse for the way I spoke to you. But … I’d just read a letter. From … someone who died. Someone I loved.”
Recognition flickers in her eyes, but they don’t warm.
“I was … grieving,” I admit. “And angry. I took it out on you.”
Maeva has been scarred repeatedly by the rejection from those she cares for. I’ve seen the hurt she attempts to hide each time her father looks past her as if she’s invisible. In my grief, and in my clumsy attempt to shield her from the emperor’s wrath, I’ve torn open those wounds once more. She deserves better than that. And nothing will protect her from her association with me.
She shakes her head, her freckles stark against her pale skin. “I’m the one who is sorry. I’m sorry about whoever you lost, Arvelle. And I’m sorry I’ve tried to force my friendship on you.”
“Maeva—”
She holds up one hand. “You made it clear from the moment you arrived that you don’t want or need anyone.” She lets out a bitter laugh. The kind of laugh I couldn’t have imagined someone like Maeva making.
This is what you do. You poison people.
“Do you know what it’s like to attempt to be friends with someone, and any time you think you’re sharing a nice moment, a moment of understanding … they suddenly look like they want to throw up? Can you imagine how much that hurts?”
“Maeva—”
“No, Arvelle. I welcomed you here when no one else would even speak to you. Not because I felt sorry for you, but because I thought you needed a friend. LikeIdid. And I was wrong. You’re so, so convinced you’re better off alone, and maybe you’re right. Since you don’t want or need my friendship, you no longer have it.”
With a long look, she turns and walks away.
I watch her go, my entire body numb.
My eyes are hot, my throat tight. Fine. Fine. It’s for the best anyway. If she’s ever questioned by the truthseekers, she can tell them we’re not friends. We were never friends.
Shoving it all down, I make my way back to the imperius quarters.
