Page 106 of The Champion

In the end, he had left him there to be abused.

Stryder wanted to die with the knowledge of what had happened.

He pulled his brother into his arms and held him tight. “Oh God, Kit, I never knew it was you. I swear I didn’t knowingly leave you there. Had I had even an inkling that you were still alive, I would have torn down the walls to get you out.”

He felt Kit’s tears against his neck. “I know that now, Stryder.”

Stryder pulled back and braced one arm against Kit’s thin shoulder. He lowered his head until their gazes were level. “Do you honestly?”

“If I didn’t know it for truth, you’d be dead now.” Kit’s gaze was eerie and haunting. “By my hand.”

Stryder was uncertain of this new side of Kit’s. He was used to his brother being humble and shy, not rigid and deadly. “How many men have you killed?”

Kit withdrew from him and unlaced the dark-green, leather bracer he wore on his left wrist. He rolled his sleeve back to show Stryder what appeared to be a list written in Arabic on his arm.

“There are twelve names there,” he said quietly. “All of them are dead save you.”

Stryder touched the names that the Saracens had tattooed on Kit’s arm. “When?”

“I killed them before I met you. Originally, I had intended just to return home and kill no one except you. I went to Michael’s hoping he would shelter me from Kalb al 'Akrab, but when he threw me out, I knew I had no choice other than to fulfill my bargain. Without a haven, I dared not do anything other than what they had instructed me to do. There were times when I traveled when I was certain one of them watched me. Indeed, I would find notes of warning along the way, but I never knew who left them or when.”

“What of Cyril?”

Once more, Kit refused to meet his gaze.

“Is he on your list?”

Kit shook his head. “Nay. I killed him because he recognized me as Ganymede.”

That didn’t make any sense. Cyril was in the same cell as Stryder. He would no more recognize Ganymede than Stryder had. “How would he know you?”

Kit flinched as if he’d been struck. Before Stryder could blink, Kit started away from him.

“Kit?”

“Leave me alone!” he roared. “I have no desire to remember that night any more than you do.”

A sick feeling came over Stryder as he remembered how many times he and the rest of the Quinfortis had pulled Cyril away from some of the younger boys in their prison.

“Tell me he didn’t-“

Kit turned on him with a hiss. “Don’t you dare say it! And don’t look at me.” Kit’s breathing was ragged as his brother raged. “I was there for five years after all of you escaped. Five years! Don’t you or anyone else judge me for what I had to do to get free. You and your precious Brotherhood never returned for the rest of us. Never. You were too busy freeing others and, don’t think for one moment, that our captors didn’t take great pleasure in informing us of every raid your Brotherhood performed that freed more. But never us. We waited and waited and waited, and none of you ever returned for us.”

“Us?”

“Us,” Kit repeated angrily. “I wasn’t alone.”

Stryder closed his eyes as pain seized him. “Why didn’t you kill me too then? Why did you spare me when you didn’t the others?”

“I was going to,” Kit said, his voice hollow and deep. “That night in Canterbury when you rescued me and paid for me to have the room next to yours. I crept into your room while you slept, fully intending to cut your throat.”

“What stopped you?”

“You did,” he said simply. “Remember? You were in the throes of a nightmare, and you came awake calling out to me, or Ganymede, rather.”

Stryder nodded as he recalled that night. It was a nightmare he’d had since the night they became free. It was one where he heard Ganymede calling to him and he was trying to break down a door to get to the child.

On the night Kit spoke of, Stryder had come awake to find Kit standing by the bed, at his feet. “You said you heard me and that you were concerned.”