50

Tiv

Thursday 1st October, Year 828

She raised her chin upwards, exposing more of her skin to the jagged knife, her stare recalcitrant. Her face that I had earlier smashed into a wall was healed, her injuries looked weeks old. Venenum; it had to be. I clenched my teeth but could not move the blade. If I struggled to harm a stranger, I had no notion of why I thought killing Alayna would be a simple feat. I had hoped hatred enough alone would be enough of a driving force yet knew instantly it would not be easy to take her life.

"What are you waiting for?" she taunted, defiance etched into every line of her body.

She leaned into the blade's edge, the steel kissing her flesh just enough to draw small droplets of blood, like a crimson constellation across her throat.

"Where is Ben?" I growled.

Her icy countenance became more marble than flesh. "Get fucked."

The knife's pressure increased ever so slightly against her skin. "I'm not asking again."

"Ah sweetheart, cut me into a million tiny pieces and scatter me to the wind. I'll never tell you where we hide him," she spat.

Silence stretched out between us like a taut string.

"What happened to you?" she breathed after an eternity.

"You don't care what happened to me," I seethed.

Yet somehow, I saw it—the faintest quiver in her lip, the fractional dimming in her eyes—as if she could muster some scrap of empathy from beyond that armour of manipulation. It was all it took for my certainty to waver like candlelight in the wind.

"I–I remember who you were," she eventually whispered. "This isn't you."

Her gaze flickered with something vulnerable—a fleeting tremor that flitted away as quickly as it came—leaving me breathless and disoriented. I shook my head, ridding myself of the feeling as a smirk twisted my lips; there was grim satisfaction in seeing her so diminished from the money-grabbing whore she once was.

"The only reason you spared me is because you knew you couldn't kill me without Amelia flaying you," I growled.

"No-"

"Hold your tongue. I don't wish to hear your lies," I snapped.

She regarded me for a moment before a nasty sneer appeared on her face, "Amelia is a pretty name. Amelia Hawes. Will you mention me in your vows? A little eulogy? How you had to carve me out of your life just to move on?"

My laughter was bitter as acid. She was always so good at provocation.

"Tell me where Ben is."

"The only way to find him is to kill me. Then he'll come for you. He'll destroy your entire family," she said with chilling equanimity.

"So be it."

Enough talk. Do it. I thought, Three… Two… One…

I mashed my eyes shut as I prepared to slit her throat.

"Look at me while you do it, you coward," she hissed.

I ignored her. I couldn't; unable to bear those eyes—that face—for one moment more.

"I loved you," I spat.

She barked a humourless laugh before gasping, the blade cutting deeper. "Yeah well, I still love you. Remember that. You killed someone who loves you."

My eyes snapped open, meeting her wide, frozen gaze. It took a moment for me to realise I lowered the knife and a moment more to realise I had stepped away from her.

Alayna's back remained pressed against the closet door, her body starting to shudder with violent tremors.

"You're a liar," I seethed through clenched teeth.

She responded not with words but with a slow shake of her head, her gaze unflinching.

"Fight back!" I seethed.

Her eyebrows pinched tightly together, and her lips curled with a scornful whisper, "You want to fight little, fragile me?"

She was tiny. I took another step away and caught my reflection in the bedroom mirror: my face was contorted with anger in a way I had never seen before. It didn't look like me. Towering above a diminutive woman, gripped in my hand was still the knife. Her neck had a deep, angry, red line across it, blood slowly oozing down her throat. In contrast, Alayna appeared almost wraith-like; her body gaunt to the point of fragility. With a sense of revulsion, my hand released the knife.

"You're… terrorists."

She barked a stubborn laugh, "No, we are not. We are revolutionists. There's a difference."

The absurdity of debating semantics mid-confrontation threatened to make me erupt into crazed laughter. I shook my head trying to focus on what was going on because, with every sentence that passed between us, she gained confidence and I lost it. The more confidence she got, the more she looked like Ben. The more she looked like Ben, the shorter my life expectancy was.

"Your people killed at least two of ours," she seethed in a whisper.

"You got more of us." The words fell from my mouth laced with venom, "You killed Regan."

The transformation in her was immediate; her expression lost its hard contour and shifted into something raw and unguarded.

"Regan," she said the name slowly, as if discovering the shape for the first time. And in that moment, something broke behind those defiant eyes. "I won't bother apologising. If she meant something to you, even if I begged until I was blue, you'd always hate me."

"You curtsied over her corpse."

Her face crumpled and she begged anyway. "Please, I'm sorry. She tried to hurt Gho- she tried to hurt a mate. She told me to enjoy the show. When she hit the floor I told her I did and bowed. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"She was one of us and you snuffed her out like she was nothing."

Alayna shifted—shoulders back, chin up—she claimed the space around her with an authority that contradicted her wounded form. Her stance, echoing the might of a general, betrayed no hint of the vulnerability she had just shown.

"You spent three years there and you're one of them now? You saw how they treated us. Ben is the best thing that's happened to Harroworth in eight centuries. Kill me, but you're not getting him. The only way you'll get him is if you kill me. He will come for you and annihilate each and every one of you golden-eyed murderers but you're absolutely deluded if you think for a second you'll kill him. Your lot having been trying for years. A Hawes won't be the thing to take him down."

I said nothing. The hurt and venom could not formulate words in my mouth.

Immediately, she moved and I took a step closer, freezing her in place. She slowed her movements and picked up a lighter, indicating she was lighting her candles. I raised an eyebrow but took another step back as the glow of soft candlelight flicked upon the walls of her barren bedroom.

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"Why the hells are you here?" she demanded, moving to her wardrobe to rummage until she pulled out a bottle of Venenum. Using a shirt, she poured the potion on it and wiped it across the gash at her throat. Swearing, she muttered, "Stupid bastard."

I almost apologised before swallowing the words. I wasn't sorry. She was a liar. She had killed my Mother. And I had been idiotic enough to step away from her.

"I came to talk." The lie slithered from between my clamped teeth.

"You came for Ben," she shot back. "Why? Why do you hate us now? What have I done to you?"

I was mute, unable to articulate words. All those years wishing I could ask her so many different things and when it came to it the words got stuck in my throat.

"Tell me," she commanded, her feet nudging the knife along the floor towards her as if reclaiming every inch of lost territory.

Her piercing blue eyes broke through my resolve. I'd been filled with so much hatred for so long that when I next spoke, I was surprised to realise the voice belonged to the boy who was heartbroken by Alayna Jameson years ago.

"You lied to me." My voice didn't stay piteous for long. With each additional word, my cadence grew to a furious hiss, "You are the reason my Mother is dead! You and your brother killed her! You used Marco and I for money! Your Mother had an affair with my Father! I thought you cared, yet now I see that you just have the gift of manipulating your way out of bad circumstances." I noted the fact I was now unarmed and trapped in her bedroom, "…like you've done to me again tonight!"

Her jaw dropped, "The fuck is wrong with-"

"Wrong with me? I'm not the imbecile I used to be-"

"Do you mean the imbecile that brought murderers to our door and let his fiancé do this to me?" She twisted her leg so I could see the fresh stitches, "Or do you mean the imbecile who has just very nearly slit my throat over a lie? I'd like to think you were any different but you've always been an idiot. I should have known that from the second you sped off in your car after Marco punched me in the face."

"You told him you were using me! Did you expect him to take a bow and walk away gracefully? Ben would have flayed me alive if the roles were reversed."

We were distracted by someone trying to turn the door handle. When they discovered it was locked they knocked gently on the door.

"Alayna, what are you doing?" Ben's voice whispered.

He'd been in the house the whole bloody time.

I would have thought they'd have been smarter than to hide a prominent radical in his parent's home. I went to grab the knife from Alayna however she was quicker than me. She danced out of the way, a nasty glare on her face. Yet never once did she threaten me with it.

"Sorry Ben, just got the television on. I'll turn it down."

"We don't have any electricity and you don't have a TV in there, Aly. Open the damn door."

"I nicked a TV and car battery from the base a few days ago."

"Tell me the truth now or I'm breaking the door down," Ben growled.

'Wow,' I mouthed.

"I was talking to myself, Ben. Are you happy now you've completely embarrassed me?" she hissed.

He paused, "What day is it?"

My eyebrows knitted together, confused at the odd question as Alayna's eyes widened in shock.

"It's Thursday, the first of October. I'm in my room at Mum and Dad's house. I'm absolutely exhausted. I want to be left alone," she hissed quickly.

His odd line of questioning seemed to stop with Alayna's even more peculiar response.

"Please get some rest. I'm begging you." Ben Jameson begging for anything was new. It made me miss Meredith and Beau.

I knew I should have taken the opportunity to kill the murderer on the other side of Alayna's door, however I was rooted to the spot.

"Night," she said, dismissing him.

"Alayna, do you know where Tiv is?" Ben asked quietly. "I won't get angry, I swear."

Her gaze ensnared mine as a knot of dread tightened in my throat. I was weaponless and moronic enough to come alone. Hopefully Ben would make my death swift, though I figured mercy was not among his virtues.

"No. I told you, I didn't see him," Alayna said, holding my eyes. My breathing altogether ceased as my jaw fell open. "Night, Ben."

For a moment, silence stretched between us like a chasm. Then Alayna rolled her eyes with exasperation.

"You can stay out there all night if you want. I'm not letting you in," she called out.

Ben's footsteps then echoed down the hallway as he finally left. I didn't try to go for the knife again; she didn't want me dead.

Alayna pressed her ear to the door, checking he was gone before straightening and etching a glare so deep into me it burned. "My Mum never slept with your dad and as for Mayrina, I have no idea what the fuck you’re on about. Mum was supposed to be in the same car as yours, why would we try to kill her?"

"You're lying," I whispered, though the accusation felt hollow even as it left my lips.

"I was with you on the day of your mum's death. You think I had time for a quick trip to Thruck? Tiv, it doesn't make sense. She was helping us. We needed her alive; after she died the Guard got worse. Someone's lied to you but it certainly wasn't me."

A violent storm of betrayal and self-loathing hit me like a tidal wave... Because I believed her.

Each breath became a struggle against the surfacing memories of the last three years—the lies and skewed perceptions planted by my so-called family but offered only manipulation. Father had filled our heads with poison to turn us against the Jamesons. We had been so easily manipulated by the man who was supposed to care for us.

When Alayna next spoke, her voice was a mere wisp of sound that barely reached my ears, "Tiv, I never used you or your brother."

"He told me you'd called him, flaunting the free things you were getting from me," I confessed with a raw edge to my voice.

She stared blankly at me for a moment before she flushed with anger—or was it embarrassment?

"That's not entirely a lie." She continued hurriedly as my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Marco called me. We just got into a shouting match. He said I was using you… So yeah, I said something like, 'Yeah I am, I got a mobile. Maybe you'll get me a car next.' But, I mean, come on! I was clearly just throwing an angry hissy fit and thinking I was hilarious. You cannot believe I would ever seriously…"

The sentence died in her throat and she stared in silence for a moment. Then I remembered something I hadn't thought about in years: Alayna Jameson told lies when she was hurt. I had nothing to say to her. It was very typical of Alayna to ooze vicious sarcasm in stressful situations.

"You thought I was using you the whole time. That's why you never contacted me," she whispered, her gaze wide. "I'm so sorry."

I was going to punch Marco's face into the back of his head.

"Don't apologise. It was a lot more complicated than that, however, it was a contributing factor."

"You're such a beautiful idiot," she grinned.

I was home.

She took a step forward and spoke softly, "I haven't done any of the things you think I have."

"I wrote to you. I emailed you. Why didn't you reply?" I asked.

"I didn't get anything from you while you were gone. Look around Tiv, you think I've had access to emails since you've been away? I tried to call you and your Dad told me you'd moved on. I gave up three years ago," Alayna breathed.

"Of course Father said that," I growled.

"I checked that damn phone every day for seven months until I spoke to your Dad. Do you think if I had received a letter from you I would have ignored it? I gave up because you never contacted me and I was told you didn't want me," she explained.

I expected it from my Father however Meredith never sent the letter. She had never been on my side. The sadness that crashed down on me was not dissimilar to the grief I felt when Mother died. Like I'd lost the woman I called sister. I ran my finger over the ring she had given me, the only one who bothered to mark my eighteenth birthday. The very person who had given me something to remind me of Alayna was the same person who stopped me from seeing her.

"Meredith intercepted my letter," my voice was strained.

Alayna looked back with worried eyes and took another step forward. We were too close now. With the glint of steel in her hand, I tried to remind myself of the danger that loomed between our words and confessions, however my brain froze as it tended to do when she got too close. Her mere presence was strong enough to overpower my survival instinct.

"It's fine. Who needs letters? We are having a long overdue catch-up now."

"I checked that bloody phone bill every month up until the moment I was forced back here. I needed to know you were alive. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I felt it. Felt you. Though I had no notion if you were safe."

She tightened her grip on the knife handle reflexively as if it were a lifeline anchoring her to reality rather than a weapon. "I get it. I always felt like you were in danger. But I knew if something ever happened to you it would be on the news. So I figured you'd moved on. I only ever used the phone once when I got attacked by an Umbrith. Ben nicked it for a night and I went mad with him. I told you I wouldn't use it; I was never using you. The only other phone call I ever made was to your dad's office when he told me you didn't want me. He told me you'd moved on."

I let her words settle in the hollow of my chest; her story matched exactly what I had seen on the phone bills. It was Ben who used the phone that night, not Alayna. If I'd bothered checking the amount of that final call she'd made, I'd have realised she was calling Lambent. I was a bloody stupid fool. Father told her I'd moved on seven months after I'd left whilst shackling me to Amelia's side. I had still thought of Alayna every day, obsessively watching the news reels searching for her face. Begging for proof she'd used me on a phone bill to know she was safe. Listening to her music. Remembering her touch. Her laugh. Very much not moving on.

"I thought about you every day for a very long time," she put her head down. "I still do."

My chest tightened as I looked at the hurt on her beautiful face. I could not believe it. She was exactly the same girl I knew three years ago.

"I believe you," I whispered.

She raised her eyes to mine, taking a final step forward. In that proximity, I inhaled a familiar sweetness that I had forgotten—wildflowers. The meadow. Our meadow. Warmth radiated from her as our lips found each other's.

The knife slid to the ground with a soft thud.