Page 77 of The Last Hope
I thought Stork brought us here to lay out the crucial steps of this far-fetched mission. Or at least examine theMythsbook further with our friends.
Important tasks.
Instead, Stork would rather lounge around the pool for a “late-night dip.” He supplies pipe tobacco, cigarettes, and bottles of wine and scotch, and for the past hour, no one has been on track.
“… pig shit, Bartholo still had a chance against Roolin in theiceling championships,” Zimmer says while floating on his back, fully clothed in khaki slacks and a black StarDust shirt.
Gem sits primly on a bench that she dragged to the pool’s edge. “Nash Redcastle is thegreatesticeling player of our century,” she declares. “And he played for Roolin.”
Kinden occupies the other end of the bench and reads a label on a wine bottle with the aid of an EonInterpreter, given earlier to our friends. The silver device behind his ear contrasts against his dark brown skin. “I balk at agreeing with little Gem,” my brother says, “but Nash Redcastle was a gift to iceling. I attended the 3052 championships in Yamafort; he single-handedly won for Roolin.”
Seated between those two, Padgett puffs on a pipe, observant and quiet. Her brown hair is braided and tied with a magenta ribbon.
Mykal hangs his arm over my tight shoulders, pinching a lit cigarette. He whispers to me, “You enjoy iceling more than I, you realize.”
I shake my head once and then go rigid in doubt. Until he left the Free Lands and lived in the city with me, he’d never seen the sport.
We sit side by side on the mosaic tile. I’ve been gripping my bent knees with an ironbound inflexibility. My knuckles throbbing.
Mykal mumbles in a drag, “I’ve felt your eyes wandering to games more than once before.”
I blink, forgotten memories whirring past me and asking to grab hold. I was six. In our kitchen, mornings before school, Kinden switched our only television to reruns of iceling. Privileged enough to even have a luxury like a television, we ate fresh-baked scones, and I slowly lifted my head out of textbooks.
Young women and men took to the ice on sharp blades and chased after a quilted violet ball, tucked beneath their opponent’s arm.
I think it wasn’t the strategy I liked. I remember… my intrigue was more rudimentary.Entertained.By something other than medicine. I had a distraction.
My father would slip into the kitchen and notice me first. “Etian.” He smiled benevolently and put a hand to my book, then my shoulder. “Finish your studies.”
He chastised Kinden for bothering me, and he turned off the television. Soon after, we’d leave for school.
I never had time to watch a full iceling match. Other priorities always tugged me away.
I wake out of a hazy stupor. Reminding myself that I still have priorities. Ones even more important than when I was a child.
“I knew a group of FTs who snuck into an iceling match a few years ago,” Franny admits to everyone.
Mykal and I are dry on the floor—but perfumed water warms my feet, my arms, ankles, legs, and waist.
Franny.Near us, she wades in the shallow pool, the tips of her black hair wet. Her tunic almost floats up, but she tugs the fabric down every so often. “Altia Patrol caught them five minutes into the first quarter, and they spent four days mopping up the bleachers as punishment.” She says that one boy only had two days left to live, and he was stuck cleaning.
Gem sighs. “All our time together, I should’ve known you grew up as a Fast-Tracker. Padgett had suspicions.”
Padgett smiles coyly and blows smoke ringlets.
We have no reason to pretend to be other people with my brother, Zimmer, and the Soarcastle sisters. Not anymore. One way or another, we’re all outcasts.
Earlier, we revealed some truths we’d kept secret. Like Mykal and his Grenpale heritage and becoming a Hinterlander in the Free Lands.
Mouths fell with an astonishing silence. The idea that a Hinterlander, someone who chooses no country and roams the fiercest weather-beaten terrain, could fit into upper-crust society without being caught was unfathomable to them. After the shock faded, the Soarcastle sisters praised Mykal for his aptitude at StarDust.
For all that he’s done and learned, he deserves that admiration and more.
Kinden has been studying Mykal, then me, as though piecing together why I’m in love with him. I could nearly smile at the notion that my brother is seeing more of the boy I know.
For Franny, she had less to share than Mykal. Kinden and Zimmer already knew Franny was a Fast-Tracker and that her name was notWilafran,but the Soarcastle sisters were still largely in the dark until today.
And I was grateful that I didn’t need to speak about my past at all. While we were in theRomulusbrig, Kinden opened up to them about my history. Likewise, Zimmer already confessed his Fast-Tracker status.
