Chapter 34 #2
The solange-eyed one’s lips lifted into a smile.
He was speaking to the Smiths. “. . . careful to consider why we fight. You can’t fight for greed, power, revenge—none of these.
The blood we spill plants seeds. What grows out of that blood will show us better than anything what our purpose was.
We must fight for the protection of life, for the dignity of the human spirit, to stand against what is evil.
If you are here to fight for anything else .
. . leave. If you are afraid, scared of death, unwilling to fight .
. . leave. Take the night. Consider. Things will only get harder from here. ”
The wind tapped the solange-eyed one’s wrist, echoing the drumming of his heart.
After a silent moment, the Smiths filed past, leaving the hall in groups of twos and threes.
Last to leave was the granite-faced woman who had answered “yes, sir.” She cast the solange-eyed one a long, considering look, then said, “The Smith—your father—you are very like him.”
The solange-eyed one nodded. He was so rough-hewn and opaque it was impossible to tell if he was happy about this or not.
She stared at him a moment longer, then she said, “I can’t fight. I want to kill the Wards. I want to slaughter the Clarks. I want to punish the Bards. Any blood I spilled would only grow hate. I’m sorry. I respected and loved your father too much. I can’t wage a just war. It would be personal.”
The woman, gray hair at her temples, turned and left the hall. The solange-eyed one stared after her.
It was only him, the battle-hardened brother, and the wind left in the wide stone room.
“I hope you aren’t expecting me to leave,” the brother said. “Sorry to tell you, but we have a difference of opinion.”
The solange-eyed one’s lips quirked up at the corners.
The brother crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “You think we should only kill to preserve life, human dignity, or justice. I think I should kill because I swore a blood oath to our dead father, and I’m going to honor it or die trying.”
The solange-eyed one leaned across the table and reached toward a large fruit bowl. He took a moment, inspecting the fruit, then plucked free a bright red apple.
He threw it in the air and caught it, then he tossed it to his brother. “Careful. Revenge is a poisoned fruit.”
The brother smiled and took a bite, chewing loudly. “So they say. But it’s also delicious.”
He took another bite of the apple, the juice spraying over the wind. It sniffed the bright, late-summer smell. Orchard. Bees. Clover. Sun. The brother was right. It was delicious.
“I’m going to kill the Ward,” he said, musing over the white flesh and red-speckled skin of the apple. He turned it in his hand, eyeing the flesh, then took another bite.
The wind tapped the solange-eyed one’s nose. He wrinkled it and wiped its bridge. The wind tapped it again.
The solange-eyed one widened his eyes, then he whispered under his breath, “I know.”
“What?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
The brother shrugged. “And I’d rather you didn’t obsess over Mari. She was a decent body—I’ll give you that. She made a good sandwich. But she’s a creature. She likes being a creature. She’ll try to kill you again, and I’ll kill her in return—”
“Darin.”
The brother dropped the apple to the table and wiped his hands on his pants. Finally, he looked at the solange-eyed one. “Yeah. Got it. I won’t touch her. She’s yours to kill or not kill. You know, that’s one way you’re not like Dad. She’s a liability, and he never let liabilities live.”
The solange-eyed one frowned. “He let at least one live.”
“The Ward?”
The wind moaned.
Both of the men stayed quiet.
“They hit, you hit back,” the brother finally said. “Hell Gate bombed the Night Den. Your home. What are you going to do about it?”
The solange-eyed one shook his head. “It’s a distraction. I won’t be baited.”
The brother’s jaw tightened.
The wind swirled between them, taking in their similarities and measuring their differences.
The brother was fairer-skinned, lighter-haired, shorter but bulkier.
He reminded the wind of the Smiths who’d lived a thousand years ago.
They’d sustained themselves on the bread of battles and the wine of blood oaths.
He was like an iron arrow passed from village to village, shooting men toward war.
There were only two states for this kind of man: war, and the peace that preceded war.
He wasn’t power-hungry. He didn’t seem to care that his brother wore the crown.
He only wanted to fight, preferably with his brother by his side.
“I know you don’t have any good memories of Dad,” the brother said, nudging the apple so it rolled across the table.
“Not like me.” He gave a short half-smile.
“I had the best childhood. The best father. I got everything, and you got nothing. I got his love. His attention. His approval. I got to know him. I’m not going to claim he loved you.
Or even cared about you. What do I know?
But he loved me, and I loved him. I’m not going to resent him for lying to me my whole childhood.
I’m not going to be angry that you’re the principal and wearing the crown.
I won’t turn on you. I won’t undermine you.
I’ll always be loyal. You’re my brother.
Dad knew exactly what he was saying when he asked if I’d serve the crown.
I thought he meant when I wore it, but he meant when you wore it.
I will. I do. But Finn, I’m going to go after the Ward.
If Mari tries to hurt you again, I’ll stop her.
If Hell Gate needs a lesson, I’ll give it.
I’ll listen to you in everything, but not when it comes to my blood oath, and not when it comes to keeping you alive. ”
The wind poked the solange-eyed one, whispering its question again. Didn’t he hear it?
The solange-eyed one nodded. “As long as you know you might be standing on the wrong end of my sword. The Ward was enough to satisfy the oath. I don’t want you killing Jacob.”
“Tough.”
“You won’t harm Mari.”
“Depends on what she does.”
“You’ll leave Hell Gate alone.”
“Maybe.”
The solange-eyed one sighed. “Are you ready for tonight?”
“You mean if you die and I inherit your inglorious crown?”
“Yes.”
The wind whistled. What was this? Why might he die?
“I’m ready.”
The solange-eyed one nodded. “Good. If anything goes wrong . . .”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll give you a funeral befitting of a king. I’ll bury you under the city with an entire lead army, a mercury river, and a mountain of gold. I’ll even make sure the jackaltooth don’t tunnel in and devour your corpse.”
The solange-eyed one crossed his arms.
“Fine. If you die, I’ll protect the body.”
“Mari.”
“Mari.”
Ah. So the solange-eyed one hadn’t told his brother who or what the girl was to him. He was holding the knowledge close, keeping it secret.
Hmm.
The battle-hardened brother shook his head. “Are you sure freeing her is worth four years of your life?”
The wind sniffed the solange-eyed one. Did he have four years to lose?
How many grains were left in his hourglass?
It couldn’t tell—they were running too quickly to know.
The seconds of his life were rushing through the palm of the solange-eyed one’s hand, and if he closed it, they would all run free.
“She’s worth it.”
He didn’t say anything more, even though both the brother and the wind waited patiently.
Finally, the brother nodded. “I’ll keep watch. Make sure no one kills you while you’re not in your body.”
“Thank you.”
The brother looked at the solange-eyed one out of the corner of his eye and then reached over and gripped his arm. He held him for a long moment.
Then he smiled and asked, “You trust me not to kill you?”
The solange-eyed one finally gave his brother a full grin. “Without a doubt. You can’t be a Barca without a brother.”
They stared at each other, sharing a private joke the wind couldn’t decipher.
After a moment, the battle-hardened brother pulled away. “I’m going to grab something to eat. You want anything?”
“No. I’ll be down in a bit. Just give me ten minutes.”
The wind shifted the papers on the long table, waiting for the footsteps of the brother to fade. They echoed for a long time. There was so much stone in this place.
Finally, though, the solange-eyed one and the wind were alone.
The wind, impatient, whispered its question again.
The solange-eyed one finally answered.
He stared at the papers, their edges curling in the wind, and whispered, “I sacrificed an eye.”
What else?
Was there anything else?
There had to be something more.
The solange-eyed one’s gaze shifted to the half-eaten apple, his hands curling into fists. Finally, he turned and smiled at the wind.
“I sacrificed revenge.”