Page 11 of Shadows and Flames
Elián asked sternly, “How can you even be sure, boyo? Most would not be happy with their child becoming a blade for hire. Nor would they want them to leave their home for the foreseeable future for training.”
The boy was pouting now, dear Godyx, “They have enough on their hands now, anyway. And you both did it! I already train and… I don’t want to be at the children’s home anymore. I want to train. And be a great fighter.”
“The choice was easier for us, lad,” I chimed in. “What with this one being born to a Shadow father and me being a street rat with nowhere else to go. You seem to have a home and people who care for you here. If you’re accepted, there’s no going back.”
He nodded and took a quick mouthful of the roasted carrots on his plate. I noticed that he was picking around the chicken and had barely touched it. “I know that. I have no parents, and Whitley and Lydia know that I want to be a Shadow. So it won’t be a surprise.”
Elián heaved a sigh, and I knew it wasn’t from his stomach being full, though his plate was nearly licked clean now. After many, many decades, we really were like brothers, blood be damned, and I knew his tells as much as he knew mine. The particular tone of this sigh was one of capitulation. Neither of us had outright denied the boy yet, but I hadn’t been persuaded so much by his words to just give in like that.
I ran my eyes over Elián’s face while he examined the lad who seemed perceptive enough to know to keep his mouth shut and concentrate on eating. Half of Nogón’s hair had fallen down his shoulders, now, and his brow was tightened in contemplation.
As if he could feel my gaze, he cut his eyes to me without turning his head. The color in his eyes was a rich, dark orange, and my shoulders dropped a little in defeat. His face was still hard, his posture still guarded, but I knew where to look to read him. He had a soft spot for the boy. And though he was a full-grown adult, his expression reminded me so much of him as a boy on that rainy day in Thalas.
When he’d taken a long look at me while his brother and I haggled away over some stolen trinkets I was trying to sell. Their father had stood back, watching the exchange, until Elián walked over to him. They’d talked in hushed tones, but I was too busy trying to convince Leandro into buying a finer puzzle cube than the one he’d originally eyed.
When he eventually did, they’d left, and I used the coin to buy a hot meal and a night in an actual bed and saved the rest. They came back to my corner the next day, though. And the next, and the next. Leandro had been jovial, and sometimes he’d buy something, and the other times, we’d joke back and forth. I’d never had a friend before—life on the streets was about survival and competition, not camaraderie—so I wasn’t sure if that was it. But it’d felt nice.
Elián had been quiet, never really speaking, but he would stand beside his twin. Leandro would include his brother in all of his jokes and stories, and when Elián made a grunting noise or tugged at his brother’s sleeve, Leandro would share a look with him and then speak for them both.
I remembered thinking it was so strange. I’d seen my best mate whisper with their father that first day, so I didn’t think he was mute, but he never spoke around me.
The fourth day, the three of them came back mid-afternoon. I never admitted it to any of them, but I’d been waiting all morning for them to show up. Their father would have been intimidating in his black leathers, but his kind blue eyes and smile put me at ease. Even at nine years, I’d learned to identify when someone actually meant me harm.
For some reason, my eyes kept falling on Elián when the three of them spoke with me that day. Their father crouched, long hair shifting over his shoulders, and explained what he was. What they were. That he’d been watching me, seen that I was quick, smart. He’d said that his sons had vouched for me, saying that I’d be a good acolyte. Leandro had looked at me with hope in his glowing, happy eyes, but it was Elián’s serious ones that convinced me.
Yeah, a place to call home was the main draw, and I could tell that the silent twin wasn’t easily swayed. But sometime in the course of the few hours we’d spent together, he’d softened toward me.
My best mate was acting that way toward the lad now. And the silent glance we shared was its own conversation. He’d eventually spoken to me when I’d been accepted as an acolyte, many weeks after our first encounters in Thalas. Even after that, though, he much preferred nonverbal communication, which I soon learned could be just as effective.
In Zonoran, I asked, “Are you sure about this, Nogón? We’ll be the ones responsible for him. At least until he’s sworn in.”
“I’m sure.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fuck, just great.” I didn’t know who I was more irritated with. This boy who was now derailing my entire life, at least for the next few decades, my best friend for being swayed by achild, or myself for going along with the whole damn thing.
The boy’s face fell, and I just couldn’t take the pouting anymore. If we were going to keep him, we had to get this Whitley and Lydia to agree. Then cart his arse all the way back to the Well. He really better have been toilet trained, because I sure as shit wasn’t changing nappies. If he really was almost eleven years, he should have been, but with his round, innocent face, I wasn’t completely sure.
I shoved up from the table and left a small pile of coin from my pocket on the table. Elián stood more slowly. As we turned toward the entrance, it seemed he wanted me to explain to the boy who looked one second away from bursting into tears.
Fuck me.
“Come on, lad. Show us to this children’s home. You can explain your decision to your caregivers, andifthey consent to it, we have a long journey ahead of us. I won’t have any shit coming down on us for snatching you away without word.”
It took him a moment to process through my words, but once he had, his face broke into a shining grin. He jumped up from his seat and started spewing a bunch of excited thanks, and I rolled my eyes.
Elián led the way toward the door, but I caught the almost-smile on his face before he turned his back for us to follow. He was a bastard, but it was the first time I’d seen him crack any kind of positive expression in a year. So if we needed to practically adopt an orphan to make it happen again, I’d do it.
The boy touched my hand like he’d been about to hold it, but he dropped his arm to his side like I’d burned him when I glared. He gave me an apologetic glance then continued to grin like I’d given him a pile of sweets and toys for his birthday. I huffed and shook my head while my chest made compressed with a strange, aching sensation. The Well wasn’t a place for that childish shit, but it had been the start of a new life for me. A new beginning that was far better than the sorry life I’d been saddled with atfirst. Swords and blood and darkness had been the best gift for me. Maybe they would be that for this boy, too.
Chapter Six
MELINE
A lifetime after him
Ibreathed in the scent of Death. The taste of it, the thrum of darkness pulsing through my fingertips. The crimson, hot and wet, stained my leather-wrapped hands.
And the screams. Goddess, the screams were sweet enough to pierce the thick veil that’d settled over me.
