Page 39 of The Sun He Buried

Sweat.

Right.

He pulls back.

I keep my hands where they are for another second, because removing them too quickly would be suspicious.

“You were asking why I teach.”

I wipe both palms on his shirt.

Baldr looks down.

“Safekeeping,” I remind him.

“Clearly.”

The recruits begin arguing over a missing arrow. Baldr stays between my knees.

“My parents thought strength was worth teaching.” He picks up the cup. “They didn’t think the same of emotion feeding.”

“Your brother.”

“Eirik.”

Baldr drinks again. “When our hungers showed, they found me instructors. Every weapon. Every language they thought a leader might need. Eirik got whatever lessons were left.”

“You were children.”

“Yes.”

“You were twins.”

“Also yes.”

I stare at him. “That’s awful.”

“It was stupid.”

He says it easily, but his thumb presses into the side of the cup.

“Did Eirik want to learn?”

“Eirik wanted everything they told him he couldn’t have.”

“Did you help?”

“I tried.” Baldr’s mouth pulls into a small grin. “He let me show him a sword grip once. Then he realized I was being careful with him and broke my nose.”

I blink. “On purpose?”

“He said no.”

“Did you believe him?”

“He smiled while he said it.”

I laugh.