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“You what?”
He glanced at her, worry apparent behind the sunglasses he wore. “She didn’t see. I promise! It was dying anyway. I wanted to see if I could help him.”
Brady—the boy he was helping over the wall—was a host to an angelic shard. According to his father, they discovered it when he was five after his sight was taken from him. Luka thought taking life auras from plants would be enough to undo the damage. It was thoughtful but not effective.
“Thank you for telling me,” Lily eventually said. “He didn’t know, did he?”
Luka shook his head. “His brother has a shard too, and he can use it just fine. Why not Brady?”
Lily started walking again. “His brother has a blue soul.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because… the Gnaw and the Allay are friends, which means their shards don’t hurt their bodies when they use their gifts.”
“But, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Luka’s voice was meek.
Wrong choice of phrasing, Lils. “Yes, bug. It’s just that”—Lily scratched the back of her neck—“that they’ve been friends for a long time. Fixing the shards from our Flares won’t happen overnight.”
“But it’s been almost a whole year!” Luka grumbled, kicking a rock ahead of them. “I wish it worked.”
Lily placed a hand on his shoulder. “Brady is happy, right? He can still play, run around, and seems to adore stealing his aunt’s grapes. I bet to him they taste extra sweet.”
“She doesn’t get so mad when she finds him in the garden. She yells at me, but with Brady, she hands him an armful when he pretends he got lost.”
“Wait, you didn’t teach him that, did you?” Lily bumped him with her hip when his smile grew mischievous. “Luka! Don’t get the other kids in trouble. That’s bad etiquette for an Imordial.”
“You steal stuff too!”
She gasped. “How would you know?” Luka smirked and tapped the frames of his glasses. “That doesn’t count.”
“Yes it does.” He stuck out his tongue then scrunched his face. “What is ‘etiquette?’”
“Nice behavior. You know, holding your head high, using your manners, saying excuse me if you bump into someone, or apologizing if you steal their fruit.” Lily poked him in the side. “Good Imordials have good etiquette.”
Luka giggled, hopping away. “If Amalia and Minerva are friends, then they must be good Imordials. What’s their etiquette?”
Every so often his curiosity snuck back into their conversations. Deflecting was her first response, but Luka’s questioning rarely ever stopped without answers. “They’re very traditional. They believe Imordials have certain expectations to meet so their Flare’s influence is understood, and that’s something that should be respected by their people. Amalia believes in the necessity of pain and what it can teach you, so she can be very harsh and honest.”
“Harsh?”
“Amalia’s a good Imordial, but her etiquette is harsh, you know, sharp, like a sword. Pleasure, on the other hand, is more peaceful, so Minerva reflects that in the way she carries herself. Her etiquette is warmer, nicer. Does that make sense?”
Luka tilted his head. “So they’re different. What was yours like?”
“I don’t know. I never had any.”
“Why?”
“No one could teach me.”
“I thought Amalia was your teacher.”
“I guess so, but it’s different. She has advisors and massive archives of history to teach her how to carry on her legacy. Pain isn’t my legacy. And since my mother didn’t even know I had the Wraith, no one taught me anything about being an Imordial until I came to live in Rimore. Amalia and Minerva tried, but neither of their etiquettes seemed right for me.”
“Oh… Do you wanna know what I think?”
“You’re going to tell me anyway, so have at it.”
