61
When I stumbled exhaustedly into my bedroom, I had a knife in my hand and nearly flung it across the room before I realized it was Griff, not a monster, sitting on my new, clean bed.
I dropped the knife and flew across the small room, catapulting into him. He caught me with a surprised grunt. I’d reacted purely from instinct, but Jagger’s blood was eating the small joys, burning through my happiness.
Sometimes, my blood felt like tar and happiness was its painful torch. Still, I squeezed my arms around Griff and held him tight. He sat stiffly for a single moment, then he sighed and pulled me close.
“Idiot,” I said, rubbing my cheek against his chest. His soft black T-shirt smelled like dried blood and sweat. “Rou told me you fought Jagger. That you wanted to come after me. What’s wrong with you? You know the rules. You know . . .”
I leaned back and inspected him. I looked for bruises, broken bones, missing limbs. You never knew what Jagger would do when you displeased him. Griff was usually so timid, so shy, so eager to please, that he’d never stood against Jagger before. That was Justice’s territory. Sometimes mine. Never Griff’s. I felt a glimmer of fear at the lingering scent of blood.
“You’re all right?” I asked.
Something flickered in his eyes—a quick-winged darkness. Then he nodded, and it was gone.
It was strange—Griff’s eyes had always brimmed with puppylike innocence, but there was something darker there now. My chest tightened, and a deep panic rushed through me. No. I grabbed his wrist and roughly turned it over.
It was only when I saw the rose tattoo and its bloody thorn that I was able to breathe again.
We both stared down at the marking of Griff’s last life. He was still a nine.
I closed my eyes, the quick onslaught of fear and vibrant relief almost too much to handle.
“I thought . . .” I cleared my throat and pulled away from him. The new mattress was firm, the scratchy sheets whispering under us. They smelled like vinegar and dandelions. Rou must’ve washed them. “I’m really tired. I’m not thinking straight.” I rubbed my eyes. They were gritty, and I was having a hard time focusing. “Jagger had us making weapons all day. We were like diabolical elves in Santa’s workshop cranking out . . .” I laughed and knocked my shoulder against Griff’s. “He seems to think all hell’s going to break loose tomorrow. My arms are like noodles from all the Furtig and gunpowder I mixed.”
Griff’s mouth turned up in a small smile.
“I don’t know why you did it,” I said, leaning into his side. He put his arm over my shoulder like Justice used to do. I peered up at him, holding back a yawn. There was slight bruising on his jaw. I frowned and pressed my fingers to his warm skin. “You shouldn’t have. It was just the Bards sending a jackaltooth after me. Is it because I didn’t go after Justice?”
He shook his head.
“Griff?”
The sconces’ conjured light cast a dusty white glow over the cell. Shadows bounced across the metal bedframe and over Griff. He was lean and ropey, tense. Tonight, his father’s form was so close to the surface his shadow had wings.
I stared at the outline of his shadow and then looked at the bruise on his jaw. “Why aren’t you talking?”
I realized Griff’s smile wasn’t actually a smile. He tapped a finger to his bruised cheek.
My eyes widened, and Griff wrinkled his nose.
“All right. No problem.” I swallowed. “Look at this way, a tongue isn’t as bad as a hand. Remember when Jagger tore off my hand? It’s basically impossible to tie shoes with one hand. Plus, he didn’t make you eat it.” I paused. “Right? He didn’t?—”
Griff made a half-choking, half-laughing noise.
“See? There’s an upside. Jagger’s stupidly fond of making creatures eat their own body parts. Consider it a gift you didn’t have a tongue and ketchup sandwich. So we’re good. If I can learn to button pants and tie shoes and go to the toilet with one hand, then you can . . .” I trailed off at the look in Griff’s eyes. “What?”
He tugged me against him and then let out a short, shuddering laugh.
“Oh. Sure. I guess it’s funny. Plus, it’ll come back in your next life.”
I sobered at the thought.
Griff hugged me tight. I reached up and rumpled his shaggy hair.
“Was it only your tongue? It wasn’t more?”
He nodded, and I dropped my head back to his chest.
