I have no reason not to tell her the truth. “Because I don’t think we should.”
It was one thing when this was just some quest for athing. The White Brothers are weird, don’t get me wrong. The way they live, the way they train, all the sleep deprivation and bread-and-water and hairshirt shit they put us through as oblates—it’s the far tip of fringe Catholicism. But the mission of it all, the greater good they said we could achieve, thatonlywe could achieve—it got me. Got me enough to commit, even though my back was admittedly to a wall given the years of room and board and coaching I’d gotten from Daddy Pendragon.
But now it’s different. Now that we know it’s a person, now that we know it’sthisperson, this girl in front of me…I don’t want those blank-faced fucks to have anything to do with her.
“I’m confused,” Gwenna says. “I thought that was what you were sworn to do.”
“Yeah, well, we were sworn to do a lot of things,” I point out. “Or not do them. And look at us now.”
Her cheeks flush a tiny bit. Did I cross a line there?
“Point is,” I finish quickly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“And it’s your call?”
Nowmyface feels hot. I still have the key to Luther’s office—around my neck, actually. Kingston hasn’t asked for it back.
And if he does, I’ll fight him for it.
“It’s therightcall,” I say out loud. “Whether the others realize or not.”
Gwenna stands, studying me. Not speaking. And that makes me antsy.
“That all you needed?” I step back to the weaponry, grab the epee I was working on, and jab the wrench back into place.
“Jeez.” When I look up, Gwenna’s eyes are wide. “Sorry for theimposition, Kai.”
Shit. “No, Gwenna, wait. I…”
I haven’t spent more than like five minutes with you in weeks.
“Stay,” I say. “Hang out.” I shrug. “We’ll catch up. What've you been up to?"
Gwenna pauses, like she’s considering whether or not I’m full of shit. But she doesn’t leave. Instead, she steps closer, her boots echoing in the empty expanse of the salle.
“Today?” She shrugs. “Just hanging with Morgan. She says hi, by the way.”
“Pfft. Liar.” Morgan wouldn’t say hi to the corpse at my funeral. Just because I have the nerve to point out that magic is, in fact, dangerous shit to play around with.
I look back at the epee, flick the wrench around another time.
“What areyoudoing?” Gwenna asks.
Now it’s overtight. Damn. I winch it back a little, test, and drop the blade.
“Oh, you know,” I say airily. “Trying this new thing where I actively work on solving my problems instead of just sulking about them.” I push off my thighs and rise to stand. “Or picking fights.”
I glance over in time to see Gwenna’s eyes narrow. “How’s that going for you?”
I shrug. “Too soon to tell. But hey, at least we’ve got a lot of weapons assembled.” I give a little showman’s sweep of the arm at the half-populated rack behind me.
“Nice.” Gwenna nods approval. “You did all that today?”
“Yeah.” I kick at the edge of the piste line, a stupid little spark of pride in my chest. “Got up early.”
“Impressive.”
“Eh.” I shrug. “I’ve always been good with weapon maintenance. Kinda?—”
