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He’s your handler, Laia. That’s all.
“If it makes you feel any better, I thought
I’d be dead within a week too.” I smile, and he gives me a quirk of his mouth in
return.
He holds happiness at bay
, I realize.
He doesn’t trust it.
“Do you still
think I’m going to fail?” I ask.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” He glances down at me and then quickly away.
“But I didn’t want to risk the men. Or—or you.” He mutters these words, and I
lift my eyebrows in disbelief.
“Me?” I say. “You threatened to shove me into a crypt five seconds after
meeting me.”
Keenan’s neck reddens, and he’s still refusing to look at me. “I’m sorry about
that. I was a . . . a . . . ”
“Jackass?” I offer helpfully.
He smiles in full this time, dazzling and all too brief. When he nods, it’s
almost shy, but moments later, he’s serious again.
“When I said you would fail, I was trying to scare you. I didn’t want you to
go to Blackcliff.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew your father. No—that’s not right.” He shakes his head.
“Because I
owe
your father.”
I stop mid-dance, only picking up again when someone jostles us.
Keenan takes that as his cue to continue. “He picked me up off the streets
when I was six. It was winter, and I was begging. Not very successfully, either. I
was probably a few hours from dead. Your father brought me to camp, clothed
me, fed me. He gave me a bed. A family. I’ll never forget his face, or how he
sounded when he asked me to come with him. Like I was doing him a favor
instead of the other way around.”
I smile. That was my father, all right.
“The first time I saw your face in the light, you looked familiar. I couldn’t
place you, but I—I knew you. When you told us . . . ” He shrugs.
“I don’t agree with the old-timers about much,” he says, “but I do agree that
189
it’s wrong to leave your brother in prison when we can help him—especially
since it’s our men who put him there, and especially since your parents did more
for most of us than we can ever repay them for. But sending you to
Blackcliff . . . ” He scowls. “That’s poor repayment to your father. I know why
Mazen did it. He needed to make both factions happy, and giving you a mission
was the best way. But I still don’t think it’s right.”
Now I’m the one flushing, because this is the most he’s ever spoken to me,
and there’s a vehemence in his face that’s almost too much.
“I’m doing my best to survive,” I say lightly. “Lest you waste away with
guilt.”
“You
will
survive,” Keenan says. “All of the rebels have lost someone. It’s
why they fight. But you and me? We’re the ones who’ve lost everyone.
Everything. We’re alike, Laia. So you can trust me when I say that you’re strong,
whether you know it or not. You’ll find that entrance. I know you will.”
They are the warmest words I’ve heard in so long. Our eyes lock again, but
this time, Keenan doesn’t look away. The rest of the world fades as we whirl. I
say nothing, for the quiet between us is sweet and graceful and of our own
choosing. And though he, too, doesn’t speak, his dark eyes smolder, telling me
something I don’t quite understand. Desire, low and dizzying, unfurls in my
stomach. I want to hold this closeness to me as if it’s a treasure. I don’t want to
release it. But then the music stops, and Keenan lets go of me.
“Get back safe.” His words are perfunctory, as if he’s speaking to one of his
fighters. I feel as if I’ve been doused with river water.
Without another word, he disappears into the crowd. The fiddlers begin a
different tune, the dance picks up around me, and like a fool, I stare into the
crush, knowing he won’t come back but hoping anyway.
190
S
XXVIII: Elias
neaking into the Moon Festival is child’s play.
I pocket my Mask—my face serves as my best disguise—and burgle
riding clothes and a pack from a Tribal caravan. After that, I break into an
apothecary for willadonna, a physician’s staple that, when pressed into an oil,
dilates the pupils wide enough for a Martial to pass as a Scholar or Tribesman
for an hour or two.
Easy. Moments after putting the willadonna in, I’m swept into the heart of the
festival with a tide of Scholars. I count twelve exits and identify twenty potential
weapons before I realize what I’m doing and force myself to relax.
I pass food stalls and dance stages, jugglers and fire-eaters, acrobats,
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