Page 115 of The Only Way Out Is Up

“Bring it here.”

I circle the couch, feeling somehow wary. The firelight paints Ky in sharp contrasts, but I can see she’s wearing not much more than a nightgown, and not a particularly substantial one at that. The waterfall of her hair lies on the couch beside her, and she absentmindedly toys with it as she looks up at me.

“Here.” I hold out the bottle, and she takes it. The stopper is already loose; Ky plucks it out, takes a quick swig, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes widen as she swallows.

“This was Father’s favorite,” she says, looking at the bottle. “He never let me have any.” Ky smacks her lips experimentally and frowns. “Maybe it’s an acquired taste.”

“Was there anything else you needed?” I ask her.

“Oh, sit down, idiot,” she says cheerfully. “I don’t need you to fetch and carry for me, you know, there are plenty of servants for that.”

I sit down at the other end of the couch. It’s not very wide, and Ky’s bare feet are practically touching me. The heat of the fire plays against me, and the flickering light makes the room feel small and close.

Ky takes another experimental drink from the bottle, waiting a little longer before swallowing.

“Definitely an acquired taste,” she says, swiping a tear from one eye. “You want some?”

I shake my head. For a moment we sit in silence, watching the flames.

“I have a problem,” Ky says after a while.

“Oh? Something I can help with?”

“It is. That’s part of the problem.”

I frown, not following. She sits up straighter, pulling her hair into her lap and winding it nervously around her fingers.

“There’s something I… want.”

“Okay.”

“But I shouldn’t want it. I’m not supposed to.”

“Okay.”

“But, you know, says who? My father? He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“So I’ve been told,” I say carefully.

“But when I think about it, he’s there in my head, you know? Telling me what to do.” She shifts a little closer, still looking into the fire, swinging the bottle idly back and forth in one hand. “You know what I mean?”

“I think so. Fara’s… dead, too. But sometimes I can almost hear her. ‘If people get hurt, it’s not worth it.’ That sort of thing.”

“She sounds like a good person.”

“She was.” I sigh. “I try to listen.”

“My father was a good person, too. I think. But he was… one of them, you know?” She waves the bottle vaguely. “The Council. The leading families of Hod. He never… questioned.”

“Most people don’t.”

“I never thought about it like this before we came back here. Father was… Father. But after everything, seeing all this again…” She lets out a breath. “I don’t know. Am I making any sense?”

“A little. You have a different perspective now, right?”

“Exactly. What was it you said? It’s easier to look up when you’re at the bottom?”

“Something like that.” I can feel myself relaxing, melting into the velvet cushions. “Can I try the bottle?”