Family #2
“Is that what you’re saying? That Talu was telling the truth?” He felt shaky, wrung out, like he was teetering on the edge of something sharp and steep. Or maybe he’d already gone over the edge and was just waiting for the inevitable body slam.
Tanxi closed her eyes briefly, took another drink. “Our parents were really kind of shitty, to be honest.”
“Were they?” Math murmured. “I don’t remember.”
“I’m not surprised. They were unhappy when I turned out to have a gift for magic—and furious when you did. You were supposed to become a smith, like our father. I think they thought they could just, you know—” She waved a hand, scowling. “Train it out of you.”
“Train it out of me?” He let out an ugly, broken laugh. “Just say they were beating me, Tan.”
“Fine. They were beating you.”
He closed his eyes. He understood why she’d never said anything. But still—how had she let him go so long not knowing?
“So, I guess they must have whipped me every time I used magic but even as a kid, I bet the rules went out the window the moment I fell asleep. Most people just sleepwalk. I sleepmurdered.”
“Not exactly,” she said, grimacing.
“You just told me—”
“You were a child. I don’t think the idea of hurting our parents ever once occurred to you—no matter what they did, not even in your sleep.”
He stared at her. “Wait. Make up your mind. Did I or did I not murder our parents.”
“I don’t think you meant to kill them, and I don’t think you raised a hand against them yourself.” She sipped her drink. “I’ve been to the house, Math. I’ve seen your ‘woods.’”
Math couldn’t speak.
“The plants weren’t like that back when the Idallik Knights came to collect me. They’re not normal anymore. They’re … they’re smart.”
Math winced.
“You did that,” she accused—and he had nothing to say.
“I think you were lonely and in pain, and you needed friends. So you made some.”
“And they defended me.” Math sighed.
“Right.”
He was tempted to reach for the alcohol, but a fiercely stubborn pride stopped him. Tanxi’s story explained a lot, didn’t it?
“I always assumed their abuse was why you never learned to manifest a weapon. Or rather, that you figured out how when you were five—and it horrified you so much, you’ve done your damndest never to do it again since.”
His eyes were stinging, so he wiped them. How dared they? He wanted to scream, to hit something.
There was no way to scream loud enough.
Then Math felt something tug at him. It almost felt like a question—a prickle of concern and inquiry. Kai. He was feeling Kai.
Or rather, she must’ve been feeling him.
Math inhaled slowly and tried to calm down. He sniffed, cleared his throat.
“Okay,” he said. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Math, it’s okay to be upset.”
“Good, because I am. I’m extremely upset.” He pushed away from the side cabinet. “Technically, I’m not supposed to be here. I’m still confined to the cenobium. So I’d best return before someone notices I’m no longer annoyingly underfoot.”
Tanxi made a face. “About that…”
Math stared at her, fighting down dread. This day had already been filled with far too many surprises.
“The regent was here, earlier,” Tanxi explained. “Upset about something. She had that ‘I have to roll up my sleeves and fix things’ attitude. She did say that she’d given you a pass to come visit—and also asked that you stay until she returns.”
“Stay as in ‘not go back to the cenobium’?”
Tanxi huffed. “Unless you’ve figured out how to be in two places at the same time, that is how that works.”
“I can’t do that.”
“What do you mean, you can’t do that? The children are here, and it’s not like anyone’s going to miss you.”
“Ouch.”
She rolled her eyes. “None of the knights, I mean.”
Math couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah … you’d be wrong about that. Also, as it happens, I’m one of those knights.”
Her brow wrinkled. “What?”
“I figured out how to manifest, Tan. It’s a shield, but evidently that still counts.”
“What? Show me!”
He obediently complied, and when he dismissed the shield, his sister honestly looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Tri-Mother! You did it! I’m so proud of you!” She ran at him and gave him a tight hug.
A proper Idallik Knight would’ve scolded her about losing control over her emotions. Math just hugged her back.
When he finally pulled back, he said, “I already have orders, so I can’t stay here and wait until the regent feels like coming back.”
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’ll check back when we return.”
If we return, he didn’t say.
There had to be some way to stop this avalanche. If only the regent had still been there.
“Tell the hatchlings goodbye for me, okay?”
“You should tell them yourself.”
He laughed, unkindly. “No, no, no. That would be a terrible idea. I’m currently holding myself together through spite and pride. If I see the kids, I’ll turn into a giant, weepy mess. You’re making it hard enough as it is.” He gestured down the hallway with his thumb. “This way leads out, right?”
“Yeah,” Tanxi said. “The guards outside will escort you.”
“I’m sure they will. I love you, big sister.”
“I love you, little brother.” She waved him off, her voice tight.
He looked back once—just in time to see her reach for the drink she’d poured him.
Math could hardly fault her. It would’ve been a shame to let it go to waste.