“We know.” He rolls his eyes with a grin. “Come straight home, don’t talk to anyone.”
A knock sounds on the door. Gerith gets to his feet, but he knows better, and I slide past him. Visitors this early are rarely a good thing. My right hand reaches for the handle, my left drifting close to the hilt of my knife as I open the door.
A small, thin girl stares up at me. Blond curls tangle around her gamine face, and I catch a glimpse of a bronze sigil beneath the strands covering her forehead. Her sigil has extended slightly, which means she’s likely older than she looks.
Fifteen, maybe sixteen.
I open my mouth to tell her she has the wrong house, but her gaze sweeps past me, blue eyes sparking with light.
“My name is Sarai,” she announces. “I’m here for breakfast.”
My eyebrow shoots up. “Oh, you are, are you?”
Her mouth turns down. “He didn’t ask?”
I heave a sigh, sending a narrow-eyed stare over my shoulder. It’s impossible to tell which “he” she’s talking about, since both my brothers are thin-lipped, gazes on the ground.
“Come in,” I tell her.
She sails past me before I can change my mind, sitting next to Gerith, whom she gives a dark look.
He meets my eyes. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“Never mind. It’s nice to meet you, Sarai. I’m Arvelle.”
She beams at me, all embarrassment forgotten, until the rumble of her stomach cuts through the silence.
Her cheeks heat, and all of us pretend we’ve lost our hearing. I hand her my bowl. “You’ve chosen a good morning to visit, Sarai. I’m not hungry.”
Sarai’s food disappears within moments. I don’t ask her where her parents are, or when the last time she ate was. But her thin arms wrap around my stomach when I remove the empty bowls.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
Within minutes, they’re ready to leave. Both my brothers share a tutor with sixteen other children. While the tutor has no training, he completed a few years of study himself, and one of our neighbors suggested pooling a few coins each month for his time.
This might be their only chance at any education at all. In just a few weeks, their hours with the tutor will be replaced with hours training for the Sands. Unless I can find a way to get us away from this empire, they’ll be walking into the emperor’s arena in just a few years themselves. Only after they survive the Sands will they be able to begin learning a trade.
My mouth turns dry. Evren is so weakened by his condition, he can barely lift a sword.
Pushing the thought away, I open the door. “Thanks, Velle.” Gerith grins at me. “I’m sorry I forgot to ask about Sarai.”
“It’s fine. Go learn something.”
Evren follows the others. He hasn’t said a word, but his cough has lessened, and I know he’ll ignore any suggestions to stay home and rest, so I press a kiss to his forehead. “Be good.”
He attempts a weak smile, his gaze dropping to the ground. Regret floods me. They were the last words I said to him the day the mine exploded, killing anyone nearby. Evren was far enough from the explosion to escape with his life, but not his health. His lungs were scarred, and he’s crippled by the knowledge that he shouldn’t have been anywhere near the mine.
It wasn’t his fault. He was only eight years old, and our mother had promised me she would keep both of them safe. But nothing I say or do lessens his guilt.
I watch them go, shoving and wrestling as they disappear into the Thorn.
The crystals in the shower are out of aether, so the water is cold. I grimace through it, refusing to wash my hair until I pay for the crystals to be replenished later. After, I pull on leather leggings, a fitted shirt, and my boots. Weapons are next, followed by a thick cloak.
Thankfully, the lock on our door still holds enough aether to keep the apartment secure. Not that we have anything to steal. I turn it, step outside, and immediately begin to shiver in the chilled air.
One day. One day, we’ll go north. To warmth and humidity. Where my brother can breathe easier, and no one knows who I am. Where they can get a proper education. Where I don’t see ghosts around every corner. Where we can start fresh …
In the meantime, Fallon is waiting in the Thorn’s small training arena. And if I’m not there to make disparaging remarks about her knife skills, she might become overconfident before it’s her turn in the Sands.
