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He jerked around and walked, frantically wiping his fingers on the dark cloth of his ruined shirt.
‘Oh, really?’ I yelled, my stomach knotting tighter. ‘That’s how you want to play this game again?’
His wings swept out behind his shoulders, as if to slap my words away.
I could no longer summon the energy to run after him, to persuade and plead. I felt empty – hollow and wrung out. All I wanted was for the past ten minutes not to have happened, for him to come back and make everything easy again.
But he vanished into the darkening autumn sky with two rapid wingbeats, not looking over his shoulder even once.
With nothing better to do, I picked up Tared’s sword and made my way back to the temple, my mind still unable to produce a single sensible thought through the whirlwind of numb anger. I could barely remember what sorry excuses for strategies I’d naively envisioned half an hour ago.
Morning, Tared, I imagined myself saying.Yes, I know he almost killed you, but he’s so very lovely when you’re not around …
A mirthless laugh escaped my lips. That did sound ridiculous, didn’t it?
Tared’s sword was heavy as lead in my hands as I hauled it across the temple courtyard, to the apartment we’d claimed as our temporary home. Was there any way I could repair this? Hell, I didn’t even know what I was supposed to repair anymore.Senseless, Creon had signed, and that mild taunt had been enough reason for his old enemy to draw a weapon and attack. Which was frankly absurd, unless …
Unless there was a history to that word.
Something hardened inside me as I staggered around the majestic wall of stems and leaves and crossed the last yards to the open front door. Therehadto be a history, and whatever secrets the two of them had been keeping from the rest of the world, it was about damn time I figured out what was going on.
‘… get out of here,’ I heard Beyla say as I slipped into the corridor, her frail voice accompanied by the sound of brisk footsteps over the kitchen tiles. ‘He’s absolutelyinsane.If this is what he does to the people he calls his allies …’
‘Oh, he’s definitely not insane,’ Naxi said dreamily.
Beyla scoffed. ‘Isn’t that worse? If it’s not insanity—’
Tared’s heartfelt cursing interrupted her, followed by Lyn’s voice. ‘I told you not to move that arm, you idiot! Will you let me clean it out now?’
He was still conscious and well enough to be stubborn, then. Swallowing a sigh of relief, I threw a last glance at the closed kitchen door, quietly lowered the bloodied sword to the floor, and tiptoed farther into the house. Now I knew everyone was still alive, I could do with a quiet moment to think.
‘If it’s not insanity,’ Beyla snapped, ‘then how can you claim he’s on our side?This’ – I imagined a furious gesture at Tared’s wounds – ‘is not how most people treat their allies, you know?’
Naxi snorted a laugh. ‘Most people don’t spend days offending their allies, either.’
Days? I stumbled to a standstill, blinking at that new piece of information. The two of them had not been particularly antagonistic until this morning, had they? Of course there had always been suspicions and cold glances, but that had been going on for months, not days. Apart from that, I was pretty sure they had barely exchanged a word, let alone multiple insults, over the course of our journey.
And yet …
A history. I must have missedsomething.
Had they spent their nights exchanging stinging remarks while I slept? That seemed unlikely; Tared had never taken the shift with Creon as far as I could recall. So what else could it be?
‘Well,’ Beyla said sharply, ‘I don’t see why Tared should bite his tongue when that fucking bastard insists on insulting him at every turn.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Naxi sounded like she was grinning. ‘Creon started it, of course. By committing the unforgivable offense of sacrificing his voice for your life, I suppose, Thorgedson?’
What?
Oh.Wait.
I could not make out the words in Tared’s grumbled answer, but it sounded neither like denial nor confirmation. It didn’t matter.The offense of sacrificing his voice, and I was back in Creon’s bedroom in the Underground after that conversation with Agenor, where I’d found him reading some note, looking unsurprised when I told him I knew the full story of how the Mother had bound him …
Reading a note.
What if I hadn't been the first to confront him?
I didn’t allow myself another moment to think. I might not get another chance like this, the four of them all occupied with their own discussions, unaware of my presence. Holding my breath, I nudged open the door to the bedroom Tared and Edored had shared until this morning. Edored’s half of the room was an impressive mess, Tared’s half organised with warrior’s discipline. A modest pile of clothes on the bed. A leather bag, meticulously tied shut. A grey coat hanging over the room’s only chair, with peaking from its pocket …
