Chapter 2 Silver #2
“Why are you following me?” Ruin asks. His voice is gravelly, like it’s overused, even though these are the first words he’s spoken all night.
“I just want to talk,” I say.
He narrows his eyes. “About what?”
“Mind lowering the arm so I can tell you?” I ask.
“You seem to be talking just fine with it where it is,” he says, not moving a muscle. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Silver,” I tell him.
To my surprise, he drops me immediately, backing up a couple paces and examining me more carefully.
“Silver,” he says. “I imagined you taller.”
I didn’t expect him to have heard of me, but I guess I should’ve.
My proximity to Mance and my involvement with the events leading up to her Ascension aren’t exactly a secret, so there are more whispers about me than I’m used to these days.
Most of them don’t get the story right, but they don’t get it completely wrong, either.
It’s a mixed bag as far as what this guy might have heard.
“And I imagined you less . . .” I trail off and he raises an eyebrow. “. . . never mind.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, it’s about time you showed up.”
I look up at him. “You’ve . . . been expecting me?
” This is not how this usually goes. Most of the time, I have to get past defenses, make a whole pitch.
Talk about the new curriculum, the better food.
The lack of glass shards jutting from the walls and stones chained to ankles.
But apparently, Ruin doesn’t need convincing.
“Well, great. Do you need to grab your stuff or anything? I could walk you to the Academy now . . .”
He jerks his head to the side, once. “No,” he says. “I’m not going to the Academy.”
I look him up and down, taking in the tension of his stance and the tightness around his mouth. I make a humming noise in the back of my throat as I understand.
He wasn’t waiting for me to come get him. He’s been expecting me because he’s been prepping for a fight. Based on what I saw in the ring, I’m not eager to find out how far he’ll go.
So I throw my hands up in defeat.
“Fine,” I say, somewhat bitterly. “No one’s dragging you back. It’s all voluntary now. I was just trying to give you some other options. But if you want to spend the rest of your life punching strangers until you grow too old to survive it, then that’s your prerogative.”
This is not how this usually goes, either. I’m typically a lot more understanding, a lot more charming. But my conversation with Vie is still on my mind, and I realize I’m talking to her more than to him.
I shove my hands in my pockets and make to leave, but Ruin stops me with one shoulder braced against mine. “Hold on,” he says.
I tense, not especially thrilled to be this close to the arms that took a kid down so viciously mere moments ago. “Something else I can help you with?” I ask.
“You’re right,” he says, surprising me. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in those pits. I want a lot more. Just not the Academy.”
I frown, backing up and taking him in again. “Then . . . what?” I ask. “And what’s it got to do with me?”
“I want you to get me a job.”
Once again, I’m thrown. But also a little intrigued. I tilt my head. “I . . . don’t exactly have a spare,” I tell him, still not sure where I come in.
“You got your start as a servant at the castle, right?” he pushes. “Get me that job.”
But I shake my head. “That’s not really how it went down. Also, I don’t work there anymore.”
He scowls, as though irritated that I’m not just agreeing without question.
“I hear you’re close to the Prime, though,” he presses, not backing down.
“You’re telling me you couldn’t pull some strings with her?
Get me some low-ranking position in the kitchens or the stables or something?
I’ll do laundry if that’s what it takes. ”
I don’t like the way he said “close to the Prime,” like I’m only with her for her power. But just as I open my mouth to refuse again, something desperate flashes across his face before he tucks it away.
And I soften, understanding him differently.
He’s like Vie when she first started fighting, willing to do anything just to earn enough to survive.
Even if it means hurting or getting hurt.
But he’s not like Vie today yet, unwilling to leave the ring even when better opportunities are presented.
Looking at him now, with his shoulders hunched and his expression shuttered, I wonder if the persona he had on in the ring was as much of a front as Vie’s.
If the desperation I glimpsed in his eyes is because he feels trapped.
It’s a feeling I can understand.
I press my lips together, thinking. This guy and I are not exactly setting up to be best buddies. He hurt my friend and he’s muscling his way through this conversation like he’s never said please in his life. It has my hackles raised.
But I did want to help someone tonight. And if the people I actually want to help won’t let me, then . . .
I blow out a breath slowly.
“Tell you what,” I say. “I’ll see what I can do.”