The end of Erik’s stave, round and polished, lingered under Jake’s chin.“It takes time,” he said, almost kindly.The anger was the last thing to go before simple endurance became a Son’s watchword, waiting for the whispers to finally drive you closer tohim.
The only thing standing in the way of that slow, agonizing slide was alirai.He couldn’t quite blame a Younger for just wanting the soft, corrupt whispering to stop.
“You’re just like Father.”Jake’s cheeks were scarlet.They should be; he’d been taken by a sucker move.“A fucking coward.”
He didn’t really mean it, but still, the jab almost stung.Erik found his mouth curving, a cruel grimace very nearly passing for a smile.“Yeah, but I’m the coward who knocked you on your ass.”
Jake almost surged up, but Erik’s stave didn’t move, and he kept his Younger there long enough to make the point before retreating with a light fencer’s shuffle, weight and weapon balanced at every moment.
“Shit.”Jake wiped at his bleeding mouth.He also winced, a little theatrically; for all that the mark granted much greater endurance, it didn’t halt pain.“Sorry, Erik.”
“Not necessary.”And it wasn’t.You became an Elder when you could forgive the petty shit; Erik had the idea it might take a while for his companion.“Just glad one of us can still feel, you know.Anger.”
“Yeah.”Jake rose, a single graceful motion.“Wanna switch to knives?”
Not today, little man.And especially not after he’d won one; Jake got mean after a loss.
“Nah.”Erik stepped back again, clearing his weapon to assure himself of free play, a movement so habitual it was now instinctive.“I gotta report to Father.”
“Great.I’ll take Her Majesty breakfast.”Even that prospect didn’t cheer Jake up much.“She better not give me another list.”
“If she does, you’ll smile and be happy to have it.”It was a risk, but Erik decided to turn his back while racking his stave.The skin between his shoulderblades roughened.
“I guess.”Jake didn’t move.Was he watching; did he understand the message?
“Cheer up, little brother.”The words threatened to stick in Erik’s throat.“I’m giving her to the Flame; you’ll be the one she likes after that.It’ll be easy.”
In other words,don’t be selfish, wait your turn.If Erik had just learned that lesson he might not have become a Son; the trainers and winnowers went through orphanages looking for barely controlled powder kegs with the requisite mental—and moral—flexibility on a regular basis.
An utter bastard survived the training better, even if they were sometimes lost when the god’s crimson mark was first applied.
“Silver linings.”Jake still hadn’t moved, and he sounded thoughtful, now.
Erik did him the further courtesy of not looking back before palming the door to the locker room open.Trust was rare, even among your brothers.
So was respect.
Mad God
Once the sunwas up Liv could sleep, but damp, ghost-pale morning brought breakfast, delivered on a covered tray by the blond one.He rapped at the bedroom door, and she could even distinguish his knock from the other guy’s.
Erik tapped politely.The blond all but rattled the door off its hinges.
“Ma’am?”Even through heavy wood, he sounded like a douchebag.Liv considered turning over and clamping a pillow to her head, but the thought that one or more of them might break in and drag her to the table forced her out of the warm safe nest in a rush.
At least he didn’t jiggle the doorknob, but she was already up, and when she peered cautiously out of the bedroom the blond was all the way at the hall door, his hands crossed loosely in front of him and his hair glowing under weak pearly daylight.
He was grinning, too.Almost ear to ear.
“There she is.”His smile didn’t alter; it looked painted on.“Not gonna bite you,lirai.I’m Jake, short for Jacob.”
I don’t think I care.She took her time from behind the door, studying him.Checking the emotional weather of her captors was a survival measure, but she didn’t have to like it.
He looked altogether too satisfied with himself, though not irritated.“I can leave, if you want to eat alone,” he continued.“Didn’t know what you wanted in the latte this time, so it’s plain.”
The fact that he’d made the right choice, even by accident, was infuriating.Still, Liv took stock.She had grey pajamas and black slippers, thankfully clean and dry—she didn’t want to guess where the brown-haired guy had put filthy, mud-soaked socks, hoping it had been an incinerator—but she didn’t have a weapon, or anything that could pass for one.
Short-for-Jacob didn’t look like he was going to leave, so she coughed slightly, working the sleep out of her throat.It felt like something dry and scaly had scraped down her esophagus, and wasn’t that a terrible mental image?“This isn’t the part where you offer to let me escape again, is it?”
