Page 143 of Grim and Oro
Truth. I finally breathe. My body uncoils. My people are safe, for now. I got what I came for.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
And then, I leave.
VILLAINS
Zed slams three different types of drink down in front of us.
We’re at a Skyling bar in the middle of the agora. The owner, Juniper, has given us a table in the very back, far from the rest of the clamoring and conversation.
Calder frowns. “Don’t you have training tomorrow?”
Zed is part of the flight force, an aerial fighting group.
Enya smirks. “It hasn’t stopped him before. Though those of us on land are in more danger than he is.”
We all remember the time Zed got drunk and threw up on a large portion of the agora. He was banned for five years. It would have been longer, but my mother always had a soft spot for Zed and was able to convince my father to shorten his sentence.
“Maybe I’ll take a trip above the prisons,” he says deviously, knowing as much as I do that there are holes in the ceilings of the cells. He hands us each a glass, then lifts his. “To Oro, truth-finder, who is now rid of the Nightshade scum!”
The glasses clink as they crash together. I take a sip and wince.
I shoot the Skyling a look. “Really?” It’s basically pure alcohol.
Zed lifts a shoulder. “Next time, don’t let me order.”
Enya tries hers and nearly gags. “This should be illegal.” She puts it back on the table and gets up to order something else.
Zed, for his part, drinks his entire cup, then Enya’s. He stands and follows Enya to the bar.
Calder turns to me. “So. How was it really?”
I swirl the drink I have no plans of consuming. “What do you mean?” I ask, though I know exactly what he means. The Moonling gives me a look.
I sigh. “He was surprisinglynotmonstrous in every interaction, but he’s still a monster. What do you want me to say?”
“Just the truth. As you always have.”
The truth is complicated.
“What’s bothering you?” Calder doesn’t have Nightshade mind abilities, but he might as well. He’s uncannily good at guessing at our feelings. It’s what happens when you listen more than you speak.
“He thinks we’re similar,” I explain, then frown, like the words are as bitter as the drink.
“You are,” Calder says, as if it’s obvious. I throw him a scathing look, but he continues, unbothered. “You’re both sons of rulers. Powerful. Caged, in one way or another, by your roles. You both led your land’s armies. You’re of a similar age. You—”
“I get it,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Our enemies are the heroes of their own stories. They are the villains of ours.” He shrugs. “It works both ways. You and me ... we were meant to be enemies, weren’t we?”
We were. My father killed his. His father led an uprising against mine. We were born to be rivals.
“So, you think he and I should be friends?” I ask, my tone cutting.
Calder laughs. “No. I just think the worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves.”
The lies we tell ourselves.
