Page 129 of The Last Hope
He giggles.
I roar at him like a beast in the mountains.
He shrieks, darts to his gaggle of friends on the bow, and giggles again.
“Our pa,” I say to Stork. “He used to pinch the flesh by his temple when he was thinkin’—like you just did there.”
Stork smiles into a wince and nods a few times. “Next you’ll tell me how we looked just alike?”
Our pa had a narrower jaw and thinner lips than Stork. “I think you must’ve looked more like our ma—”
“I was being sarcastic,” Stork says with a short laugh, audible even over the clanking ship noises and hollers across the harbor.
“You’re craving to know more, or else you wouldn’t have kept that damned carving.”The snow leopard I whittled.Franny said he put it on a bookshelf in his barracks.
Stork inhales but stays on the ship deck. I watch him wipe sweat off his brow. He’s been queasy the past few days. More hurt fissures through his features, and he puts his hand on his hips. Winded.
He looks like he needs somethin’.
I lower my voice. “I’ll be giving you your sword back.” I didn’t bring it, but first thing when we’re back on theLucretzia,I’ll be passing it to Stork. He’s no longer drinking himself away. And I’m glad to see he’s no longer sweating through his clothes or shaking like a tree in a snowstorm from the withdrawals, as Court called them.
“You took it, keep it,” Stork retorts.
I glower. “Why do you have such a nasty attitude around me and only me? You can be bright-eyed around everyone else—”
He takes a pained step closer and beneath his voice, he says with conviction, “Because you’re tookind.You keep trying to tell me everything about where I came from while I’m telling younothingabout your life.”
I scratch the stubble along my jaw. “I was alone for eight years before I met Court, and then Franny came along, and I had two people I could talk to. You were thethirddamned person I could share stories with, and maybe I was a bit overeager. But I get more out of talking with you than you realize. You needn’t tell me anything in return.”
“Heya, misters!” the gaggles of children yell.
We glance over at the bow and they giggle like they caught us undressing.
Stork tries to smile but cringes. Watching the orphans, he tells me, “I reckon I’ve wanted to know about you and Grenpale since I first saw you.” He reties loose pieces of his snow-white hair, pushing strands out of his face. “But every time you talk, it reminds me of what I’m denying you.” He turns and flashes me a half-smile. “The end.”
He’s about to pass me, but I catch his shoulder.
And I say, “I’ll be waiting to tell you about our pa, if you just stop shoving me away.”
Stork considers this, and then the children bellow, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” at the two of us.
I grunt out, “You don’t fight your brother.”
Stork is smiling with less bite, and he sighs out and looks to the sky. Maybe speaking silently to his Lord.
“Kiss! Kiss!” a few yell.
Gods bless.“You damned well don’t do that with your brother neither.”
Stork laughs hard. “Stay in school, kiddos.” He nods over to the ship’s ladder. Our exit.
I follow at his side, and the children shout back at him gleefully.
“What’s akiddo?”
He’s been casual with slang, often tossing in a random word no one’s heard of before. Not as cautious as Court about slipping up our disguise.
“We’re not allowed to go to school, you wart!”
