Fuck. Lucien stops himself from touching the silver key-token.
“I saw him palm that token at the banquet hall,” Marek says. But his magic stays quiet, and he doesn’t sound angry. Just thoughtful. “Kazia told you he was a grail before he told me. Why?”
Lucien shrugs against the uncomfortable couch. “Because I was there. Because the abuse is getting worse, and I was the only one close enough to see him breaking.”
Marek cocks his head. “I don’t think that’s it, but what matters is this.” His gaze is deadly serious. “I’m willing to kill my own father over this. If you so much as breathe on Kazia, you’re next.”
A commendable statement. Lucien refrains from mentioning that he’s already done far more than breathe on Marek’s little brother.
“Understood, Stormrider,” Lucien says with a grin. “But before anyone kills anyone, I need a favor.”
?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kazia
Distant and shaky in his own body, Kazia curls in his armchair, boots on the cushions. Worry prickles through the numbness. Marek had better not hurt Lucien.
And fuck, all talk of incineration aside, Kazia will be upset if Lucien hurts Marek too.
Sei leaves the enchanted teapot to steep and pulls up another chair. He sits properly, hands folded, as if he’s still the same painfully polite grail. “When I first arrived in Ostomar, I thought you were such an asshole.”
Kazia shrugs. “You were a good judge of character.”
“I was completely lost,” Sei says, with nauseating earnestness. “When I’m in a stressful situation, I compensate with politeness. You seem to do the opposite.”
“Bullshit,” Kazia says. “I’m always an asshole.”
“You’re always in a stressful situation,” Sei points out quietly. “But sometimes I have to be rude, and sometimes you have to be nice.”
Phantom bruises ache through Kazia’s arms and shoulders. Stressful is one word for it. “I did like the time you threw your beer at Marek.”
Sei laughs. “Bad example. We did actually solve that incident with words.” His grin widens. “And other stuff.”
Kazia doesn’t want to hear it. Sei and Marek are sickeningly affectionate. Which would be gross enough anyway, but it bothers Kazia even more given that Sei is a grail and Marek is a mage. “Before I met you, I never imagined someone could be happy as a grail. I thought you were faking it.”
“It’s not supposed to hurt,” Sei says, twisting his hands. “Your parents—didn’t they try to fix you?”
Kazia both hates and craves the stricken look on Sei’s face. He feels exposed beneath the pity, yet there’s a sick satisfaction in seeing his pain acknowledged.
Sei doesn’t understand, though. His definition of fixing isn’t the same as Kazia’s. Sei talks about fixing the same way Mother used to—changing Kazia so his magic could be taken without pain.
That would be better, but Kazia still doesn’t want it.
“Aliza had a lot of ideas.” Kazia twists one of his many boot buckles. “Imrik stopped her, though. He was afraid that more experiments would ruin me even worse.”
Small things to be grateful for.
“Surely something could be done.” Sei brightens. “I could see if the Porcelain Guild has any research. Of course, I wouldn’t tell them it was for you.”
“No,” Kazia snaps, then tries counting to ten. He gets to three. “I don’t want to be a grail at all. Even if it didn’t hurt, I don’t want anyone to use me.”
Sei wilts, then gets up to pour the tea. He looks more mature than before. Kazia used to think of Sei as younger, even though Sei’s actually a few years older.
That’s not quite it. Kazia thought of Sei as a stupider, more innocent version of himself. If he had never been hurt. If the chains of grailhood were so gentle he never realized he was trapped.
But Sei is nothing like Kazia. Being a grail isn’t even a cage for him.
