Page 10 of Shadows and Flames
Elián was sneaking confused glances at me while we exited the alley, the kid chattering all the way. Now that we’d agreed toat least sit with him for a bit, he seemed to want to tell us all sort of random anecdotes about his life in Nethras and pester us with questions about fighting and weapons. And we had only been walking for two fucking minutes.
We surely looked a strange trio, and we were seated quickly and efficiently at the small restaurant. Elián and I wordlessly sat beside each other, backs to the wall. The boy was practically jumping out of his chair before us, and that just made me feel even… softer toward him.
“Have you talked to Lady Em? Is that why you’re here?”
We both stilled. Elián had been nodding along to the boy’s incessant chattering, but he became stone at the question. Not only had he not told me about this child he knew in Nethras, but he hadn’t mentioned that the child knew his female. He still wouldn’t even say hername, for godyx’s sake.
Though he’d seemed innocently curious when he’d asked the question, the boy quickly caught on that it wasn’t the right thing to say. I snuck a glance at Elián beside me, and he remained frozen with his hand around a frosty mug of ale. I’d almost protested him ordering one but decided quickly to drop it. Even before the boy’s blunder, he’d been taking small, non-indulgent sips.
I cut in, “Have you?”
The boy looked at me gratefully and took a drink from his cup of water before responding, “Yes—” I winced, and the boy continued more cautiously— “well…Whitley has anyway.”
He seemed to shrink a little, his shoulders turning inward when he snuck a look at Elián.
“And Whitley is…?”
“My caregiver. They run the children’s home where I live.” I nodded, putting another piece of this fucked-up puzzle together.
“And Lady—what has she been speaking with Whitley about?”
The little boy heaved a sigh that held weariness well beyond his years. “Just two letters. Checking in about Francie.” When I gave him another questioning look, he added, “Whitley’s mate. One of my other caregivers.”
“So, your Lady Em,” I couldn’t help glance at Elián who was still sitting as motionless as a statue, “has been in communication with this Whitley about your missing caregiver. And you’ve convinced yourself that you want to become an assassin. Have I got the right of it?” I crossed my arms and settled back in my seat while our server placed our food on the table.
Nogón and I ordered roasted chicken, and the boy had followed suit, though I suspected that he’d wanted something else when he began to order one thing but stammered out the name of the dish when it was his turn to order.
I began to dig into my food, uncaring that the two rainclouds with me were leaving their suppers untouched. Someone had to keep us moving, after all.
Though I was a quick eater, there was a long stretch of silence that ended with my plate half-finished and Elián’s low voice. “Has she said anything else to you?” Sure, we had a child, barely old enough to walk, demanding that we make him a Shadow, but all he could focus on was the female he’d had and lost. It was taking all of my effort to not hunt her down to berate her for making him descend into this place.
The boy finally picked up his fork and began shuffling around the vegetables on his plate, probably to avoid Elián’s unsettling gaze. “Um… no. She just wrote to Whitley that she’d hoped we were all doing okay, considering. And that she thought of us often.”
I couldn’t help my sardonic chuckle at that one. If she thought about them so much, why hadn’t she visited? If she cared about Nogón, why could he not find her?
Elián leaned forward, finally taking a bite of his food. That had been another part of this whole ordeal. When he was upset, my best mate drank to excess and didn’t eat nearly enough. Even when Leandro and Emmett had gotten killed, he hadn’t been in as bad of a way as when he’d returned to the Well. The only thing that kept him feeding regularly was the impending threat of Frenzy always lingering. He could starve or drink himself to death, but, luckily, the thought of going on a bloodthirsty rampage to quench that need was enough of a deterrent.
“So… would you reconsider?” Our table had grown quiet again, save for our chewing, but the boy tried his best to be nonchalant and quiet in his request. At least he wasn’t shouting in this very public space about what we were.
“Reconsider what?” I asked just because it made him squirm.
Before the boy could say anything, Elián grunted and contributed, “To be like us, Marco, is a very large decision to make. One that should be done carefully and with the consent of one’s parents or caregivers. Have you spoken to Whitley or Lydia about this?”
Elián’s comment made the boy fidget in his seat, almost like he’d wet himself or something. Oh, godyx, had he not grown out of that yet?
I knew that if Elián was going to refuse the boy, he wouldn’t be talking to him as he was. He probably wouldn’t have agreed to this meal at all. And I had to admit that… okay, yeah, there was a soft spot in my heart for the lad’s predicament.
Godyx knew that I had been in his place once upon a time.
But none of us at the Well would want to take care of a babe that still wet his shorts, that was for sure.
“Um… well, Whitley doesn’t exactly know that I’m speaking with you.”
“And do they know that you are wanting this life? To take this oath?” Elián said after swallowing a gigantic mouthful of food.
“And just as importantly,” I cut in, “are you even old enough?”
The boy glared at me, clearly upset at my insinuation. “I’m almost eleven years now!” My head tilted as I considered and tried to remember how old I’d been when Nogón, his twin, and their father had found me on the streets of Thalas. I sucked my teeth at the realization—nine years, if I was recalling correctly. “And Whitley will go for it! So will Lydia!”
