There’s no more waiting. No more walking the edge.
I reach for my phone with a hand that barely listens to me. Aoife tries to stop me.
“Matteo,” she whispers, “don’t call them yet. You’re still?—”
“No.” I don’t look at her. “They need to know, Leo’s told them, but I need to talk to them.”
She doesn't answer, and I put the phone to my ear, and wait.
One ring.
Two.
“Matteo,” my grandfather’s voice comes through the line. Calm. Steady. Death wrapped in an Italian accent.
“They tried to kill me.”
Silence. Long. Cold.
My father’s voice cuts in; he’s there too. Of course he is.
“What happened?”
I breathe in, exhale slowly. “Someone at the Academy used a poisoned blade. I was stabbed. Leo handled it. I’m stable for now.”
“Irish?” my father growls.
“We don’t know yet,” I say. “But who else would it be? I have the trial final fight with them; they want me weak.”
My grandfather speaks again, slow and deliberate. “Are you still fit to fight?”
I stay silent for a moment, because I don’t know. “I don’t know when the fight is, but I’m not going down easy.”
“Can you still kill?”
I glance at the blade on my nightstand. “I’ve never wanted to more.”
“Good.” That earns a soft breath on the line. A sign of approval. Then I hear my father, with anger. “We come the day after tomorrow.”
“What?” I sit up straighter despite the burn in my side, and I have to bite down the cuss words I want to scream right now.
“You were attacked in a place we trusted. That trust is broken,” my grandfather says. “Your brothers will keep watch. You will rest. Then we move. If they want war, we won’t give them whispers.”
“We’ll give them thunder,” my father finishes.
Aoife’s eyes meet mine. Wide. Shaken. I can see the apology there. The worry. The fear that she’s the reason for this.
She’s not, we both knew it was wrong, but stayed together. This is both of us.
But I’ll kill anyone who makes her believe it.
“Grandfather, Father,” I say low into the phone. “Bring fire.”
I hang up.
The room is quiet again, only the sound of my breathing and the distant whisper of Aoife moving toward me. Her hand brushes the side of my face as I close my eyes.
I couldn’t getout of bed yesterday. Leo didn’t leave my side. My brothers went about their day, mainly listening to rumors about the dance, whether anyone saw anything, but nothing. No one is owning up to attacking me, but we don’t need anyone to. The Irish will get theirs, and I’m the one who will make them regret it.
