“No one can know,” I said slowly, quietly, “because it’s…”
Shameful.
The unvoiced word hung between us.
He looked awkward; angry. I thought he’d tell me to leave. But a few seconds later, he rubbed at his eyes. They were shadowed; I remembered the siblings’ late night.
When he finally spoke, it was with that same meditative quality that had crept over him when he’d watched Emment sleep.
“Father pretends it doesn’t exist. Always has. Won’t countenanceany mention of it, let alone use of it.” He frowned, adding, with forced dismissiveness, “Not that I need to anyway. When I was young, I was scared of it. After that, I hated it.” Something black entered his eyes, which were fixed on the dawn sky. “Now…I don’t know. I got curious, I suppose.” His eyes flicked to me, almost resentful, as though that curiosity was somehow my fault.
“Your father would lose everything if people knew he’d kept this secret.”
Llir had no idea, I thought uncomfortably. No clue what this revelation meant, how I could use it…
He winced at my matter-of-factness. “Only one of us,” he said eventually, “out of all the Hundred, is openly Orha. Iovawn Crake.”
The towering Mudmouth flashed into my mind.
“But he’s a soldier,” Llir went on. “A warmonger. He uses his…talent…to subdue their enemies. His father was open about it. Brazen. Took hold of it before it could be used against him.”
“And that won’t work for you,” I said. Prejudice, I knew, was rarely consistent.
He gave a hollow laugh. “Do I look like I enjoy violence?”
My cheeks warmed a little. I looked away, at the sunrise.
“No,” he continued. “The Crakes, they’re like that. But Father styles himself as above that kind of thing. We weren’t always. Grandmother Velda was a skirmisher. But Father thinks time is moving on, that the Houses are growing tired of the constant fighting.”
“Are they?”
He was silent a moment. “It was close at first. But then Father pulled ahead in the vote. He’s still a traditionalist, and the Houses like that, but he prefers to settle squabbles in the Chamber. In the courts.”
His mention of the vote brought the Cage to my mind, and my own secret—the reckoning that could be two days away. As much asLlir insisted Rexim didn’t default to violence, I was pretty certain the Brigant would make an exception for me if he discovered my part in what was coming.
I hugged myself under my cloak and thought of the laconite Avrix was working on. At once, another cog moved into place in my mind.
The false laconite. It was all there for Llir.
“We don’t really bother when we’re not in company…”
Ofcoursethe family would want fake laconite. Just as Llir had to ensure Orha were near him whenever he was in the presence of anyone wearing laconite, so, too, as a noble, would he have to wear it himself. And what could be more annoying than that? Even my stints with the pendant on my journey here had irritated me, set my nerves on edge. I couldn’t imagine a lifetime of it. And his family…they clearly found it bothersome, too. With false versions, they could keep up appearances, adhere to all the latest fashions, while not having to endure that constant buzzing.
And, I realized with a burst of adrenaline,I had some,sequestered away in my room. The pin I’d taken from Emment’s bedchamber on the night of the ball, when I’d run into Avrix. It was proof. Hard evidence that Llir was Orha. I had what I needed for the Cage.
I’d succeeded.
My gaze must have drifted, as Llir gave me an odd look.
“I…I have to go,” I said. “I have to get on with my chores.”
He stepped toward me. “I don’t suppose I need to tell you not to speak of this to anyone.”
His proximity reminded me of our dance at the ball. Seeing the way the sun’s rays lit his cheekbones, my insides knotted and my tongue went dry. I managed to shake my head. “No, of course not. I won’t.”
He seemed about to say something else, but then he clearly thought better of it, for he frowned faintly and shifted away.
I took the opportunity to turn and leave, snatching up the key as I hurried past it. But I was halfway down the spiral stairs when quick footsteps sounded on the stone behind me, a voice at my back, slightly breathless.
