Chapter Eleven
River
He’d only fended Nalu off because it seemed right to.
He’d wanted Nalu gone and he genuinely wasn’t sure whether the ward would endure Kai’s death.
But Kai survived, they’d learned some pertinent information about the Moths – where they met outside Soliz Shrine, potential weaknesses, blind spots they might exploit – and the Leviathos shipped off to harass Hilo at Caelos, leaving them in peace.
As far as River was concerned, they both got what they’d wanted. But apparently Kai embodied an unpleasant notion of honour that had him hanging around River afterwards like he owed him something for a couple of sword swipes.
“I heard you reading some of my books when I was half-asleep,” he’d said one day in the common room, a call-back to last week’s confrontation that Kai had decided only he was allowed to talk about.
We’ll keep the Moth up our sleeves for now, he’d said of it: It’s not the right time to tell Saros what we learned. “Did you want to borrow one?”
Clawing through Seduced by the High Lord once was enough. “No, thanks.”
“Well, let me know. I can’t take them back to the library until I pay all my fines, so they’re pretty much mine now.”
Or one evening, materialising in their floor’s kitchenette, which River commandeered whenever he wanted to cook for himself.
With little more than an Ah, there you are, Kai sauntered up to the counter and set something down.
A basket, wet; he pushed it towards River, like a cat showcasing a chewed-up lizard.
“I went fishing. I mean, you know – ” He twisted his wrists, miming. “ – with hydromancy.”
Inside the basket, a couple of mackerel gazed dolefully up at them.
By now River knew this game. He scraped diced carrots into a bowl and crossed his arms, one hip leaning against the counter. “You want me to cook it.”
Kai beamed. There was a kind of puppyish energy to him that pissed River off but also made it difficult to say no to him.
He sighed. “Wash your hands. I’ll grill them, but you’re gutting them.”
It was Cynthia who put a voice to it first, one morning at breakfast: “I’m glad you and the warden became friends.” She sat, drawing her knees up to her chest at the table and balancing a bowl of porridge on them. “I was afraid you’d kill each other.”
“We’re not friends,” River replied, stabbing his eggs with a fork. “I promised Ione I’d hate him, and it’s going great.”
Her mouth widened into a smile she frequently weaponised, self-satisfied and clever, like she knew something he didn’t. River detested being on the receiving end of it. “You’re always following each other around.”
“I’m monitoring him, and as for him, he hit his head and it…” River waved a hand. “I don’t know, made him stupid.”
As though to prove her point, a high whistle resounded through the refectory: Kai, at the end of the room, oblivious to the dozens of heads turning to face him at once. He caught River’s eye and jerked his head to the side, a silent, Come.
And River must’ve hit his own head somewhere along the way, because he complied. If only to escape Cynthia’s wry little smirk.
“Don’t call me like that,” River muttered, striding past Kai into the corridor. “I’m not a dog.”
“Don’t obey like one, then.” Kai nudged him, wearing his signature shit-eating grin. “The way Ineen tells it, we’re both Saros’s dogs, anyhow.”
River didn’t dignify that with a response.
The sunlit corridors on the ground floor of the acolytes’ building were quiet at this hour, with most of its denizens either finishing breakfast or already out working or attending to other tasks.
River happened to be free today, although he planned on meeting Ione later – both to keep an eye on the Moth, and on Kai and his short fuse as he fumbled his way through teaching Ione how to detect silencing wards.
While that left River with little to do until the afternoon, he suppressed a sigh, irritated following Kai around after what Cynthia had said. “Did you want something?”
“Hilo’s visiting from Caelos to update Saros on how the restoration’s going. I thought you might wanna tag along.” He played with his torn ear, although his tone was relaxed, a touch sardonic. “Since Hilo’s less likely to try and kill me, I thought I’d show my face.”
River winced, finding it in him to appreciate that.
Between running Oseidos Shrine, gathering donations from wealthy patrons, and wooing new allies and spellcasters, Saros hadn’t much time in recent months to spend with his adopted son.
River had done his best to blame Kai and his family’s gradual infiltration for that, but ever since The Altercation (Kai’s word for his brother nearly murdering him) last week, River had a harder and harder time holding onto his resentment towards the bastard.
But River could still pretend, so he said, “Thanks, but you don’t owe me a debt for what happened with Nalu.”
Kai halted before the double doors leading outside, thrown open to let in the early morning air. “What d’you mean?”
River gestured impatiently at him. “All of – this. Suggesting books to read and doing things nobody asked for and – ”
Kai snorted. “Menon wept, you don’t have many friends, do you?”
The word struck him oddly, a vexing jump in his pulse. “Lina saved you, too, so at least harass her as well.”
“Ah, but Herself and I are already even. Anyhow, don’t take it as a debt: you defied fate itself by helping me out, and therefore – ” There was the smirk again, oily and practiced, as Kai lowered onto one knee and laid a genteel hand over his heart.
“ – I’m your problem until something else succeeds in killing me. ”
He had – purposefully, River presumed – knelt in the warmth of a sunray streaming in from outside, typical theatrics.
The way the light hit him brought out an auburn tinge to his hair, made his eyes look too blue, ghostly; there was something reminiscent of a demon bartering for souls in the way he smiled, and for the first time, River understood why the humans in stories made deals with demons.
River rubbed the image from his eyes, groaning softly. “Stop being dramatic, you short fuck.”
“Ah, here.” Kai dropped his arm, shrugging. “It’s you I owe the debt to, if you wanna call it that; it’s up to you how I repay it. While I’m down here, for example – ”
River swatted the side of his head and stormed past, his stomach jolting at the laughter rippling behind him.
It was a good reminder, the laugh, how Kai rushed to catch up with him; the easy, careless way he carried himself.
He’d said it himself: everything was a game to be won, a story to tell later.
Kai had talked about previous lovers, to River, to Mikau, even to Cynthia – a maid from the Cetos whose heart he broke, a carpenter who was too sweet and normal to last, a cook several years his senior.
They were stories, and he was the demon to whom people lost a piece of themselves.
River would tolerate him, but he wouldn’t let himself or Ione or anyone else he cared about become the next story.
Kai fell quiet as they trudged up the hill, taking a busier, cobblestoned street between houses and shops rather than the isolated dirt path they’d found Nalu on.
Although still seemingly in good cheer, River couldn’t help but notice Kai scanning each colourful shopfront and bustling layman, his magical signature sharpening, reaching.
It wasn’t until River caught sight of men in familiar midnight uniforms that he realised why.
“Don’t worry,” Kai murmured, moving closer to River as a pair of Leviathos crewmen muscled past them, each lugging a wooden crate over their shoulder. “They’re only docked for a few hours and I already warned Ineen and Herself to stay out of the way.”
River nodded, grateful. Although the Leviathos remained at Caelos, Etan and Nalu were still frequent visitors to Oseidos, planning private meetings with Saros that, if Kai was to be believed, not even he had been invited to.
Saros told me to mind Ineen, Kai had said of it, sullen. Old man says jump, I jump.
They saw more Leviathosi in the noisy plaza, coarse men shouting at one another over heavy crates or sacks of supplies.
Kai’s mood darkened, a whiplash change; his eyes darted as he and River skirted past market stalls and throngs of people, doubtless searching for Nalu, for any hint of another fight.
“Breathe,” River commanded quietly.
“I am breathing.”
“Well, do it slower. You’re fine. You’re alive.” He glimpsed a faint movement, found Kai silently counting his fingers. “And you’re awake.”
Kai buried his hands in his pockets. “I got a couple hours last night,” he mumbled. “Better than most. Guess that passionflower shit’s finally doing something.”
River jutted his chin. “Then you’ll be wide awake if Nalu does blow a fuse again. And you’ll jump in and save the day and you won’t owe me anymore.”
His smile was wan, more candid than usual. “And not a moment too soon. My bones creak under the burden of our debt-induced friendship.”
They spotted Hilo staring up at an old altar to Menon in a shaded corner of the plaza, a palm-sized sketchbook in hand.
He no longer wore the fine embroidered shirt River remembered him in when he saw him last, but now dressed like he’d taken a short break from his work to come here, thick coveralls knotted around his waist and a worn shirt smudged with paint.
When he saw his brother, Hilo slipped a pencil stub into the messy bun at the back of his head and pocketed the sketchbook.
“The hell’d you do to your ear?” he asked Kai by way of greeting.
Kai shrugged, calmer now with Nalu nowhere in sight. “Ask Nalu. It’s why I have my bodyguard with me. Say hi, River.”
“Hi, River,” River said.