Chapter 11 Sharp Words
Rolan exchanged a look with Anaya, then grabbed her hand and pulled her up the path. “I have so much to show you! There’s this goat, Supper, and a horse, and—”
“Stay out of the house!” barked Luc.
Ignoring him, Rolan dragged Anaya onward, pausing atop the hill to look back.
He watched, feeling strangely nervous as Evaine and the Arcanist descended into argument, with angry gesturing and proud head tossing, like a pair of horses marking their territory.
Did horses mark their territory? Rolan felt sure they did, but Luc only had the one horse, so it wasn’t like he’d had a chance to witness such a phenomenon.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” he asked Anaya.
“You.” She frowned, studying his face. “Evaine’s mad mad. She said you got taken advantage of by people bigger and smarter than you.”
“Smarter!” Rolan scowled. “Luc’s scary, but I wouldn’t say he’s smart. Every night he rides into the woods with no lamp, no torch, nothing.”
Anaya’s eyes widened. “Does he really fight Cryptics?”
Rolan shrugged, not wanting to admit how little he actually knew about his so-called master. “C’mon. I’ll show you something that’ll really curl your hair.”
Anaya tugged at her coils as he pulled her inside the house. She looked around nervously, staying close to his side. “I’m not sure we should be doing this.”
Rolan could hardly believe his ears. Was this the same girl who’d once broken into the rug merchant’s house just to try on his daughter’s lacy dresses?
They’d nearly been caught that day. They’d had to hide for hours inside the closet, pressed between gowns, half terrified, half delirious with laughter, pretending they were braver than they were.
Where was that Anaya?
“It’s fine,” he said. “By the way, your lock-picking lesson? Best thing you ever taught me. Wait till you see—”
“Rolan, stop.”
He turned to face her, surprised and dismayed to hear Evaine’s firm tones echoed in Anaya’s voice. She was changing so quickly, he could barely recognize her sometimes. Worse, deep down, he knew what his real fear was: that she’d change too fast for him to keep up. And then she’d leave him behind.
“We’re worried about you,” Anaya said. “This man, this Arcanist, he’s dangerous.”
“So?” Her use of the word we annoyed him. As if she and Evaine were a solid, inseparable unit. “Would you rather I be rotting in the duke’s prison?”
“Of course not! But if you want an apprenticeship, Evaine could find you something better. Something safer.”
Rolan’s mouth twisted in irritation. “I ain’t… I’m not scared, Anaya.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I just want you to be safe.” Her warm eyes swept over his face. She stepped closer, touching the new scar on his forehead, the one left by the Cryptic. “Did you know most Arcanists don’t live more than five years in this job?”
Rolan hadn’t known that. He wished she hadn’t told him. But he set his jaw. “Luc’s been an Arcanist way longer than that. I think. Anyway, someone’s got to protect the city.”
She arched an eyebrow at him, giving him a brief, precious glimpse of her old self. “You? Since when did you care about the city? Or anyone other than yourself?”
Rolan pulled back, his chest aching as if she’d punched him squarely in the ribs. She must have seen the hurt in his eyes because she winced, her hand going to his arm.
“Rolan—”
“I cared about you,” he said tightly. “We cared about each other. Helped each other. Saved each other. Then you left, Anaya. You were my best friend. My only friend. And you left to become one of them.”
“No!” She shook her head, hair bouncing. “I’m still your friend! Just because things are changing, doesn’t mean they’re ending. I want you to be happy, and so does Evaine.”
“If you want me to be happy, then let me make my own choices! Ever since Evaine got her fingers on you, she’s been after me too, trying to push me around, trying to trap me with her food and her clothes.
But she’s just like every other adult we’ve ever known.
They all just want to change us. Control us.
Use us.” Rolan knew he should shut up before he said more.
He was already regretting the words pouring out of his mouth.
But they came anyway, hot and fast and reckless.
“Look at what she’s already done to you. She’s ruined you, is what she’s done!”
Anaya reared back, pain and anger darkening her eyes. Without a word, she turned and rushed to the door.
With a groan, Rolan went after her. “Wait! Anaya! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
She slammed the door, nearly clipping his hand as he reached for her. Angrily, he yanked it open again, only to walk right into Luc. The man’s face was thunderous, red with fury.
“Back inside, boy!” he roared.
Evaine was on his heels looking even angrier, which was a fearsome sight indeed. Cheeks flushed, she reached around Luc and tried to grab Rolan.
“You need to come with me, Rolan!” she said. “This is no place for a child! He is not fit to look after anyone!”
“I told you to get off my property, woman!” Luc growled.
He turned, blocking the door—and Rolan—with his wide body.
His hands gripped both sides of the doorframe, the wood nearly cracking under his grip.
“I won’t have anyone meddling in my business!
You might make the finest truth salve this side of the capital, but that doesn’t give you any right to interfere in Arcanist affairs! ”
“I’ll go exactly where I like, Arcanist, when I like!” Evaine snapped. “The boy is coming with me.”
“The boy is doing as he likes!” retorted Rolan. “Which is staying right where I am.”
Stupid! This was his way out. He didn’t need to run away. If he let her, Evaine would take him back to the city. So what was he doing?
But he couldn’t help himself. He wouldn’t be pushed around, not by her, not by anyone.
Evaine looked at him, breathing hard, the lines in her face softening. “Rolan. Please. You don’t understand this man’s life. His is dark, deadly work. It’s not just the Cryptics. It’s the secrets. Has he told you about the secrets?”
Luc’s fingers dug into the doorway until the wood finally splintered.
“You don’t belong here, Rolan,” Evaine said.
“Yeah?” Rolan shot back. “Then where do I belong? With you?”
Evaine’s mouth opened and shut. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “We will find a place for you, Rolan. Something more suitable. I can help you—”
“You ain’t my ma,” said Rolan. “You don’t get to order me around like you do Anaya.”
He didn’t know what he’d expected her to say, really. Of course she didn’t want him. She’d fed him and given him new clothes when his got too small, but she’d never asked him to stay, not like she had Anaya.
Evaine sighed, her eyes sliding shut for a moment. When she looked at him again, it was with resignation. “I’m not giving up on you, Rolan. Do you hear me?” But she glanced at Luc when she said it. “I’ll be back.”
“Try it,” growled Luc.
Giving him one last scalding glare, Evaine turned and took Anaya’s arm. “Come. This isn’t over.”
They left the way they’d come, and the sky seemed several shades darker in a way that had nothing to do with the setting sun.
Luc shut the door. He was tense, his arms as hard as stone. Rolan had seen him angry, but never like this. Never wound so tightly that he might break the next thing he touched.
“I’m going hunting,” he said abruptly.
Rolan stood by silently as the Arcanist equipped his weapons and cloak. He said nothing when the man pulled open the door and slammed it behind him.
He waited, unmoving, for ten long minutes, as Luc rode away in a gnarl of fury and shadows.
Then, pulling on the dark gray cloak Luc had sewn for him and digging out a dagger he’d stolen from the Arcanist’s belt, Rolan slipped out the door and went to the edge of the woods. It was the closest he’d come to the dark trees since Luc had brought him here.
Luc’s horse had left a clear trail in the damp earth.
Rolan drew a deep breath, gripped his knife, and followed.