Cal leaves tonight. And I still know nothing. I know I should take advantage of being here alone. He won't be able to be my voice of reason. I could go into the city, explore, visit Kilorn, visit my family. My family. I'm struck by a longing to be back with them, moving from rebel base to rebel base, always having them nearby. I haven't seen them for months, haven't spoken to them for months. That's what I'll do. I'll visit my family. No one cares if I'm gone for a bit, anyway.

Cal tries his best to spend more time with me during the day, finally feeling guilty that he's planning to leave for a month or more. He stops me from going to the training room after breakfast, and instead takes me to the gardens.

We weave through imacculate heges, and perfectly groomed flower beds, interspersed with extrafagant fountains and statues. The scent of flowers is overwhelming, and probably fake. Although they're plants, their anything but natural, honed into perfection by the greenies. It bothers me, but I try not to let it show. Cal's making an effort, I should appreciate that.

"So…" He says. "How are you?"

"Better, now that you've finally managed to convince your grandmother Norta doesn't need any heirs quite yet." I force a smile, trying to create some light conversation.

Cal laughs. "Yes, that's quite a relief, isn't it."

We walk in silence for a bit, slowly, as I take in the royal gardens. I've been here before, and it's beauty amazed me. But now, it just seems too perfect. Too beautiful. All this, to please the silvers. When only a few miles away, reds struggled and died. Starved, and fought for the tiniest chance at a better life. A false hope, until now.

Cal suddenly stops by one of the many beds of flowers, stoops, and picks one. As he holds it up, I realize it's some variety of rose. The red of the petals contrasts sharply on his pale skin. A trickle of silver runs down the stem, and I realized, despite the greenie's meticulous grooming of this place, they left the thorns on these roses.

Cal notices me staring at the small trickle of blood, and lets out a small, sad sounding laugh. "You're wondering why there are still thorns, right?" He asks, and I nod. "This is Maven's garden." His voice cracks, and he pauses, looking to see my reaction. Thankfully, my face doesn't show a glimmer of emotion, and seems to pass his inspection, as he continues. "He didn't want," Cal pauses again, memory clearly causing him pain. "He didn't want it to be changed. How do I say this? He - Maven - didn't want the flowers to be tainted by silver influence. He never let the greenies near them. He didn't even let the nymph's water them. When he was younger, he actually tended them himself, until Elara decided it wasn't princely." He sneers when he mentions Elara's name, and does nothing to mask his hatred.

Despite how Maven's behavior towards the garden might seem peculiar to Cal, I feel like I understand. Living with that monster, his mother, he must know what it feels like to be "tainted" by silver ability. Made into to something you're not, just to please others. "You've kept them safe, haven't you." I say softly to Cal. "The flowers." He says nothing, but nods slightly. I'm not the only one haunted by ghosts from the past. Cal hands me the rose, and silently, I take it. I was stupid in thinking that healing the brand, ignoring, forgetting everything, would help me reach peace. The thorns of a thousand roses squeeze around my heart as I struggle to breathe. I will never be whole again. The my wounds are still there, healed in the physical sense, but not really. Visible only to me, but everyone has their own scars. Cal, Maven, Farley, Cameron, everyone. And they live on. And so will I. I may be broken, a charred out shell of who I was, but this is the new me. And maybe this broken world needs a broken leader. Maybe then it can finally be healed.

When Cal says goodbye to me, there is no trace of the cut from the rose thorn. As with everything, he had it healed. Erased it from existence, shoved it away. Never really fixing the real problem. Just covering it up, glossing it over. He might be able to live like that, but I surely can't. Not anymore, and never again. Healing the brand, healing the thorn prick, trying to forget about Maven, it will only make it worse.