Page 79

Bastian watches me as if I’m a rabid werewolf, ready to lash out. It’s not his fault, but I’m not sure what it means for him or for us. The thought of fighting together to take down the cities thrills me, while his lineage scares me senseless. After all I’ve heard of the First City, what good can come from it?

“I’ll go next.” Grayson picks a red flower from the gravesite and sticks it behind his ear. “When I first arrived in the wilderness, I barely knew what a knife was, let alone how to use one.” He glances at Bastian. “After bringing you into the fold, you were so drunk all the time, you couldn’t be bothered with an Avrenian. ‘Useless piece of fodder,’ I think you called me.” A boyish smile crosses his face at the memory. He holds up a hand. “No worries, I’ve forgiven you. But Levi taught me how to throw a dagger with deadly accuracy. Must have killed twenty trees.” His lip quirks as he bites it and averts his gaze to the sky as his voice cracks. “He’s one of the best damn men I’ve ever known.”

It’s getting to where I don’t know if I can hold it together enough to speak. But I need to for myself and Levi. “He was the first to call me kin, to accept me as the prophesied savior, and to consider me his friend. Never in my life have I met someone so accepting of a person he’s never met coming from a city he despises. He was a walking example of something my father told me a long time ago: a true friend lays down his life for those he loves.” I stoop and pluck a white flower from the grave, twisting it between my fingers.

Bastian hasn’t spoken since the reading of the prophecy—at least not to me. Hooded eyes stress his sullen face, causing a stirring inside me. If he really knew nothing about his heritage, he’s dealing with multiple hefty loads at the same time.

“Levi moved to my house when he was ten years old, and I was twelve. My mother was kind to a little boy whose world had just been ripped apart. She baked him my favorite cookies, let him sleep in late, and brought him home a pet kitten. I was so jealous of her doting on him, I turned to bullying. At school, I’d tell the other kids he wet the bed and made fun of his signing behind his back.” He inhales sharply and looks to the side. “It wasn’t until one night, when we had a big storm on the farm and we couldn’t find him, that I realized how important he was to me. He’d fallen into the stream and was swept away by the rushing water. Fortunately, he grabbed onto a tree root, pulling himself to safety. We found him the next day, a frickin’ muddy mess but alive. I swore that day I’d never bully him again, I’d defend him to my dying breath, and I’d never be jealous of what he had.” He looks at me, his crystal-blue eyes drilling into mine. “Until I saw him with you. It came so easily to him.” Instead of picking a flower, he scoops dirt into his hand, letting it sift through his fingers onto the grave. “Rest in peace, little brother.” He turns and walks down the path to the Grove.

My heart aches listening to his story, seeing the anguish on his face, and watching him leave. I want to go after him, to tell him everything’s alright between us, but he deserves his space.

Grayson wraps an arm around my shoulder, squeezing. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? That Bastian would be a savior. To me, he’s always seemed a bit unhinged. Maybe it’s the Miscrete in him.”

I twist out of his arm. “Bastian’s not a Miscrete. Besides Arazian and his mutations, who else lives in the First City?” Images of a towering black castle with dungeons, bats, and screaming always fill my head when I think of Arazian’s lair.

“We don’t know.” Evie clasps her hands behind her back as she walks toward us. She’s lived in the shadow of the First City longer than us, so she’s heard the bone-chilling tales of what goes on behind the monstrous walls. “There are rumors.” She tilts her head as if assessing whether she should share them with me. “Rumors that the Northern Duke keeps company with Arazian along with other former Avrenians he chooses not to mutate.”

The sound of his title makes me pause. A distant melody plays in my head, its tinny notes making me long for my father, not the powerful leader who associates with the man who mutates humans. “Then maybe it’s about time we find out.”