12 Bitter Bonds
Eleven years ago, three weeks before escape
A boot slid against tile, then paused. A ragged breath. The saw of fingernails scraping wooden panels. Another slow step.
Arms folded behind his head, Drenevan lay in bed and listened to his brother’s approach down the hallway. He knew better than to open the door and help him in. The only thing Noceo hated more than their father was pity.
Dalvia had come by hours earlier and pressed a jar of salve into his hands.
“You need to tell him to stop seeing Parvine.” Her timorous voice had held a surprising finality.
“He got caught returning today and managed to lie his way out of it, but it won’t be long before the Clanlord finds out. I like her. Don’t let her die.”
She had left before Drenevan had managed to get a word in. The girl could be surprisingly stubborn on occasion.
He considered the salve and decided against passing it on to his brother. Like their father, Noceo tormented Dalvia for her compassion too easily. A pity, when the girl showed immense promise at drug formulation and Illusion magic.
Step. Slide. A sucked inhale. Then, finally, a knock.
Rising, Drenevan pocketed the salve, slunk noiselessly to the door and unbolted it.
Noceo staggered inside, avoiding his eyes.
Blood streaked his right knee, the telltale newly healed flesh over the kneecap all the explanation Drenevan needed.
The bone would undoubtedly still be fragmented.
Clevsin wasn’t a religious man, but he placed as much faith in pain as a Cleric did in the gods.
This late at night, Clan Kader’s manor slumbered in the Drust Mountains. Only occasionally did its occupants scream. Tonight had been one such night.
Lighting a roll of blazeleaf, he passed it over.
Noceo eased himself into a chair, both battered eyes oozing blood, and took a long draw. “Parvine might run at the sight of me.” He let his head loll over the back of the chair, blowing a smoke ring toward the ceiling. “Think I should Coerce her to find the scars dashing?”
“Seems foolish.” Drenevan decided not to ask him to curb his worrisome fascination with the baker’s daughter. It wouldn’t go over well now.
Noceo loosed a long sigh. “I promised that I’d meet her tomorrow.”
Drenevan’s brows rose at his uncharacteristic melancholia before understanding came. Ah. He sat back on the bed, eyeing his brother curiously. An upturned mouth, a glint in his eyes, and a smile despite the red oozing down his face. Was he really in love with the girl?
Mildly concerned, he chose his response carefully. “She’ll wait. She’s fond of you.”
“You think so?” Noceo’s blazeleaf roll hung from his mouth. A bashful grin stretched his bruised cheeks.
Drenevan hoped he’d never see that look on him again. “You look ridiculous. She is.”
Noceo’s grin guttered and died after a few breaths. “How long do you think I have left in this house?”
Drenevan was aware of an uncomfortable desire to say anything but the words on his tongue. Friendship did that, he supposed. Made people want to shield each other from the truth.
“Not long,” he said bluntly.
“I figured. My power isn’t growing. Not like yours. He had me tested again today.” A bitter laugh crawled from his throat. “Seventh-Tier. And I was seeing black spots at the end after draining myself.”
“Hmm.” His brother may want pity from Parvine, but he didn’t want it from him. Uncorking a bottle of wine, Drenevan took a swallow.
Noceo’s eyes narrowed. “Back still acting up?”
“Somewhat.”
“Clevsin should fix that. Shouldn’t damage his powerful, Tenth-Tier golden boy too much.” Noceo puffed on his blazeleaf roll. “He’ll ask you to get rid of me. Same as with our other siblings, only you’re old enough to do the deed now. ‘Kill him, Drenevan,’ he’ll say.”
It was a passable imitation of their father’s tenor. Drenevan didn’t laugh. “If it comes to that, I’ll kill him,” he said matter-of-factly.
His brother’s eyes widened. A charged silence, and he spoke, “Can you?”
An icy smile curved Drenevan’s lips. “Twelfth-Tier.”
Noceo paled. “What?”
He wasn’t one for smiling, but it welled within him, and he gave it rein. “Twelfth-Tier,” he said and watched Noceo freeze, blazeleaf slipping from his fingers. “I manipulated my test. He doesn’t know that I’m more powerful.”
His brother’s gaze dropped to Drenevan’s hands with the sort of hunger he had seen men reserve for lovers before he averted it. “What happens afterward? Do you take his place?”
“No, we let the Clan burn.”
Something brilliant flared in Noceo’s eyes. Part wonder, part anguish, wholly new. Drenevan tried to place it and failed, but it made his chest tighten, and for a bewildering second, it felt as though they could break the bonds of this prison with a breath.
Red slipped into his brother’s mouth, turned his grim words into a vow. “Together then.”