“Bite your tongue, bro.”Jake blinked and grinned, an amused echo of the orphan boy he had been so long ago, arriving at Nightshade’s dormitories for initial training.“I haven’t helped a little old lady across the street in decades.”
“Well, you’ve got tonight.”Erik’s hands tingled with the urge to check his own weapons, probably the equivalent of a nervous tic.“Go get started.”
Jake laughed, sketched a small salute, and left.Erik finished with the tray—a sprig of fresh rosemary in a tiny fluted vase, in case the chicken needed more seasoning—and was surprised into immobility, suddenly wishing he was prepping for patrol instead.It wasn’t that he underestimated Ignatius, or Jake, but… he just would have felt better if he was out killing unclean instead of held in the house, waiting for theliraito get another whim or the shadowbeasts to chance the temple’s passive defenses.
He felt the change as Father and Younger Brother left, akin to a weather front moving through.Erik’s head cocked; he stared at his reflection in the wide bay window over triple sinks.Keeping the place updated was fun; he liked construction work.Maybe after they took their potentialto the Flame, they could come back.Or settle in a temple closer to otherlirai-held territory, expanding the clear zones.
Wouldn’t that be nice.Finding even a single potential opened up the world for a Son.It wasn’t just the prospect of a Dreamer liking you enough to seal up and shut off the Mad God’s constant whisper; an active temple with access to the Flame meant you could catch glimpses ofliraiand get a little peace, the need for constant painful second-guessing of your own motives and thoughts ameliorated by proximity to their deep, soft power.
Balancing the tray on one hand while he knocked was like a coordination test in training.He could even make it a game, so steady water in the carafe didn’t ripple.Erik listened intently, hoping she wasn’t going to come at him with part of the bedstead.
They’d barely finished repairing the smallerliraim.
“Come in, I guess.”A reluctant mutter on the other side of the baffle, and from the sound of it, she was near the window.The door swung wide, and there she was, arms crossed, staring at him.
Black sweater, a wide ballerina neckline slipping to show the curve of one pretty shoulder, her hair a wild mass of half-combed tangles, shadows under those twilight eyes, and a pair of combat boots bought just that morning laced up so tightly they probably hurt peeking from under jeans-hems, their preciouslirairegarded him mistrustfully.The table was scattered with paper both flat and wadded, scribbled on and blank, and plain white boxes were piled on her bed.
The lady had certainly kept them hopping.
“Oh.”Her hands dropped to her sides.Did she actually look relieved?“It’s you.”
“Yes ma’am.”He barely knew where to look, or where to set the tray.“Dinner.Lemon rosemary chicken, pilaf, Californiachenin blanc.Father thought you might like it, but if you don’t I can?—”
“I order my own drinks.”But a faint smile touched her soft, chapped lips, and she hurried to clear the table.“Sorry, let me just… okay, there.I didn’t expect room service.”
“You think we’d let you starve?”The instant it was out of his mouth, he regretted the question.There probably wasn’t much shedidn’tthink them capable of at the moment.
“To make me amenable?Maybe.”She eyed him sidelong, a flicker of those big dark eyes.“I wouldn’t put it past him.The old guy.”
So her irritation was settling on Ignatius.He was going to lose that particular bet; Erik had been sure she’d hate his own clumsy guts.“Father’s just…” He checked the heat-bubble over the plate, keeping the dish at optimum temperature.Everything rather artistically arranged, if he did say so himself.“Well, he’s set in his ways, and he has to argue with Control all the time to get us equipment.”Not that she needed to know about budget battles, or that she’d fallen into the hands of frontline grunts unable to provide even a fraction of alirai’s due.“He doesn’t want to lose you.You’re important.”
“If you say so.”Her chin jutted slightly; she laid paper and pens on the crowded bed, carefully not turning her back to him.“Where’s yours?”
Sleet swept the window, a soft restless stroking.It was a miserable night outside even with a Son’s ability to turn aside freezing, falling water.Durability and weather tolerance was often an additional curse.“What?”
She didn’t roll those expressive dark eyes, but it was probably close.“Where’s your dinner?”
“I… um.”Erik went over the tray again.Plate, bread plate, bread basket, cutlery, water tumbler, water carafe, wineglass, wine bottle sweating tiny clear drops—everything present and accounted for.Then the full meaning struck home.“Oh.I don’t need one.”
“I’ll feel rude, eating in front of you.”
That was a surprise.He would have thought she was past being polite.“I suppose I could get another wineglass?Or just use the tumbler, or—there’s your bedside glass, I can bring you a fresh one after?—”
“You don’t eat?”Her distress was almost visible, pinging around the room in high-pitched waves, a sonar of despair.“Or you just don’t eat with me?”
Now wasn’t the time to tell her exactly what a Son of Ymre subsisted on.Food was fine if you couldn’t get the usual stuff, though.“It didn’t occur to me that you’d want company.”Erik fought the urge to stand at attention.It didn’t seem like she’d find that at all comforting, either.“Especially mine.”
“That’s fair.”She glanced at the plate, a shy doe eyeing a meadow.“You don’t have to, I guess.”
“Alirai’s invitation is an honor.”It wasn’t quite an Ignatius impression, but it was close, and Erik had the satisfaction of seeing another of those tiny, fleeting smiles.“Come on, tuck in.You’ve got to stay strong.”
“If you want to brainwash me, there needs to be less protein.”Another faint vertical line had begun between her winged eyebrows, and she didn’t take the chair he pulled out for her.Instead, she settled in the one Erik had used a few hours ago, and regarded him with some trepidation.“You know that, right?”
Was that what she was afraid of?“I’ll let Father know.”Erik bent—slow, no sharp angles or twitches, just as if he were stalking a motion-sensitive beast like aniraichor a siphoner—and took the plate, arranging it in front of her.He was trying not to loom, but he had to lean close to get the wineglass settled, the way he’d seen waiters in better restaurants perform the trick.“In the meantime, you should really eat something.”
“Father?”She sat bolt upright, almost quivering, and though the glow of potential through her was soothing, it had an edge of rasping almost-fear.“Is he your dad?”
God, no.Erik all but shuddered.The few faint impressions remaining of his earthly chromosome donor weren’t as bad as training or the night battles, but they still sent a shiver down his spine.He’d been outright glad to go to the orphanage; he’d never asked, but Jacob probably felt the same.“More like a sponsor, I guess.”
