Presh huffs out a sigh, then fishes three small packages out of her hoodie pocket — the same caramel-shortbread chocolate bars that Coda eats obsessively, and no doubt purloined from the tech’s stash.
“You bring her treats? Weekly?” Rath shifts as if to snatch the chocolate from Presh, but she quickly drops to evade his reach — exactly as we’ve fucking taught her during our near-obsessive training sessions. Then she spins around my legs and pops up on the other side of DeVille.
My other half-brother from a different father helpfully keys open the lock on the drawer built into the holding cell, letting Presh drop the bars into it before Rath can make another attempt to take them from her.
DeVille slams the drawer shut, very deliberately not making eye contact with Rath. Or me.
“Thank you, Andy,” Presh says, perfectly politely, even as she also keeps her gaze away from ours.
Bellamy rises, crossing to open the opposite side of the drawer. DeVille draws Presh a step back, and she allows it, though there isn’t any way for Bellamy to reach through the drawer and make a grab for her.
“I never craved sweets,” Bellamy says almost musingly as she greedily rips the wrapping partially off one of the chocolate bars. “You know, before …”
Rath huffs. “Being a fucking dire mage —”
“Awry.” Bellamy snaps a piece of the chocolate-coated caramel and cookie off the bar, popping it in her mouth and making a show of sucking on it before chewing.
The Outcast sends two enforcers, usually backed by a mage — most often Pinky — down here with food once a day. Dessert isn’t a high priority, nor are any dietary restrictions Bellamy might have. Not that she’s made a single request. Requests require concessions, and the dire awry isn’t making any of those either.
Rath shifts on his feet, steadying his stance until he looms as much as possible over the dire awry despite the spelled polymer barrier between them. “As I was saying —”
“Formerly,” Presh whispers. “Formerly dire.”
“You can’t believe that,” Rath snaps at Presh, instantly derailed from his attempted intimidation.
“I do,” Presh says earnestly. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see —”
“I wasn’t there because you fucking risked everything! You risked Zaya! All you had to fucking do was reach out, reach out to any of us!”
Presh’s eyes flood with tears, and she struggles to hold them at bay. “I know, I just … you wouldn’t have listened. You would have —”
“No,” Rath snarls. “You don’t know. You have no fucking idea what it’s like to …” He visibly reins himself in, inhaling deeply, then glancing over at Bellamy.
She grins, too widely. Then she pops another hunk of the chocolate bar in her mouth, talking around it. “Don’t stop on my account. I’m loving this display of sibling harmony. What’s the problem again? That you can’t figure out how to rescue your soul-bound mate? Yeah, huffing and puffing and tearing into your little sister will certainly help with that.”
Rath shifts all his ever-present ire onto the former dire awry in the cell. “You … you’re ultimately to blame.”
“Yes,” Bellamy says agreeably. “Hence me being in here …” She flicks fingers smudged with chocolate and caramel. “And you being —”
“Enough!” Rath roars.
Presh slaps her hands over her ears. “Don’t you yell at her! She’s doing her penance!”
“It’s not enough,” Rath pants. “It will never be enough.”
Presh’s face falls, nodding. She turns to deliberately meet Bellamy’s gaze. “I know. But she’s our sister. She never had … you. The three of you. To make sure she didn’t … suffocate. That he didn’t … hurt her, make her do things …”
DeVille shoulders me out of the way to loop an arm around the front of Presh’s shoulders. She leans back into his chest, just a little, but doesn’t drop her gaze from Bellamy.
The former dire awry looks … shaken. Then supremely pissed off. She crumples the empty wrapper of the first bar she practically inhaled in her fist, deliberately meeting my gaze, then Rath’s. “You’re such fucking idiots,” Bellamy snaps. “Zaya is the manifestation of destiny. Give her an inch and she’ll liberate an entire fucking country.”
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” Rath growls.
“Zaya just needs an opening.” Reck’s voice emanates from the darkest corner of the corridor. I have no fucking idea how long he’s been lurking there, or how we didn’t pick up his presence before.
My eldest brother steps fully out of the shadows. He looks fucking awful. He’s lost weight too quickly and is only sleeping when whatever essence-brewed drugs he’s mainlining take him under. He’s still wearing his stupid suits, though. I suspect he just doesn’t have any other clothing and can’t be bothered to shop. “She needs —”
“We’ve been pushing the border,” I interrupt. It’s either that or taking my fist to Reck’s face. “Remotely shutting down their systems weekly. Rath lost a fucking antler —”
