hide our hearts.

Maven Calore is not his own self. He told me as much. He is a construct, a creation of his mother's additions and subtractions. A mechanical, a machine, soulless and lost. What a horror, to know that someone like this holds our fates in the palm of his quivering hand.

"It will be no loss, not truly," he drones on to distract us both. "Our military economy will simply turn its attention to the Scarlet Guard. And then whoever we decide to fear next. Whatever avenue is best for population control—"

If not for the manacles, my rage would certainly turn the transport into a heap of electrified scrap. Instead, I jump forward, lunging, hands stretched out to grab him by the collar. My fingers worm beneath the lapels of his jacket and I seize fabric in both fists. Without thinking, I shove, pushing, smashing him back into his seat. He flinches, a hand's breadth from my face, breathing hard. He's just as surprised as I am. No easy thing. I immediately go numb with shock, unable to move, paralyzed by fear.

He stares up at me, eye to eye, lashes dark and long. I'm so close to him I can see his pupils dilate. I wish I could disappear. I wish I were on the other side of the world. Slowly, steadily, his hands find mine. They tighten on my wrists, feeling manacle and bone. Then he pries my fists from his chest. I let him move me, too terrified for anything else. My skin crawls at his touch, even beneath gloves. I attacked him. Maven. The king. One word, one tap on the window, and a Sentinel will rip out my spine. Or he could kill me himself. Burn me alive.

"Sit back down," he whispers, every word sharp. Giving me one single chance.

So I take that chance.

Just not as how either one of us expected. My lips claim his, crashing down with a current of emotions I couldn't quite place. The strange familiarity of his lips on mine shocks me more than the action. Our eyes interlock, as a mixture of confusion, slow simmering rage and hesitation flitters in his gaze.

He's the first to submit, releasing his hold on my wrists and transferring the embrace to the sides of my face, surprisingly soft, matching my desire with his lips.

He wants this. Me. To my horror and as much as I hated to admit — I wanted him just as much. I was betraying my cause, Cal, and myself, but I didn't want to stop.

Maven's lips burned against my own. He gently gripped my hips and lifted me effortlessly from the seat beside his and placed me on him, my dress riding up my legs, my thighs on either side of his.

Moments before I was in this exact position with a different sort of flame burning inside of me. I gasp against his lips in fraught realisation, pulling my face away from his.

I slapped him across his face. His head moved with the momentum of the blow and stayed that way. This time he seemed almost as helpless as me to react. His hands dropped and lay still by the sides of my thighs, a gentle warmth emitting from them. His chest rising and falling, breathing heavily beneath me.

"I can't." I whisper more to myself than him, remembering how I uttered the ghost of those words to another Calore brother not so long ago. Similar to then, I knew my eyes betrayed me. Even now I could feel tears of anger and regret, tears I swore not to cry.

He finally turned to me, his startling blue eyes piercing my own brown ones. My breathing grew more painful the longer I sat there - each breath jarring and stoking all at once. I needed to get it together. I needed to collect my thoughts—

Maven gently pulled my hair aside, I tensed slightly, holding my breath for the uncertainty of what was to come. The small touch nearly undid me. His lips brushed the curve of my neck. Blood roared in my ears.

"It's okay," he murmured softly, trailing his fingers down my arm in slow, torturous strokes. My head fell onto his shoulder, my eyes fluttering closed, as his lips continued to move against my neck. A low, breathless sound escaped the back of my throat.