Page 70
Story: Where Darkness Dwells
“I think we’ve got this under control,” Korvin says, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.
I watch him for some time, wondering when the shift out of boyhood began. Only a day ago, he was catching frogs—but that was my idea, not his.
The tea in Mother’s hand must have been his initiative. For a moment, it irks me that all my efforts to draw her out have not been received, but the feeling passes quickly. Korvin is deeply thoughtful and quietly observant. Nothing, it would seem, slips past his notice. His gentle, unassuming manner and intuitive gift for caring is probably exactly what Mother needs.
It is good there’s someone in this house who can lessen her sorrow.
“Korvin,” I say, drawing closer and resting my elbows on the counter. “Have you heard Father talking about a man named Téron? You’ve been home more than I have lately.”
He looks up from the herbs in his hands, patiently pulling leaves off one by one. “Father talks about a lot of people.”
I nod. He is a calculated man, and when acting the role of Foremost, he chooses his words very carefully. But within these walls, where he knows none of his sons would dare cross him, he lets his grievances fly.
“You may have heard him mention a person who risked the Hunt,” I prompt.
A shadow of misgiving shivers over his features, but he masks it quickly and sends Shemai to fill a bucket with water from the pump in our back garden. Once the grumbling has faded from earshot, Korvin turns back to me.
“He was shouting about something before you got here. Something about the new guy ...”
“Myrzeth?” I nod. “Father told me he’s challenged him for his position.”
Korvin shakes his head. “No, it was more than that. He wasn’t pleased that he had released someone from the Cellar while the Hunt took place.”
Utsanek doesn’t have a dedicated prison, but one place has grown to a legendary status among young miscreants—the place mothers threaten to send their children when they misbehave. No one knows where it is, but with the high quantity of old stone buildings in this city, it could be anywhere. To the sons of the Foremost, the Cellar isn’t just a myth.
My brows lower as I ponder this. “Well, couldn’t that have been anyone?”
The sound of water splashing percussively drifts in through the open kitchen window. Korvin lowers the raw chicken into the pot.
“Make sure you wash your hands,” I remind him. He crosses over to the water basin and begins scrubbing his palms with a cake of soap, and again I am struck with what a special soul he is. Not many boys of twelve would endure an older brother giving them directions.
He shakes off the excess water. “No, I don’t think so. I heard Father say he wanted to make an example of him, because of what he did, and what his wife had done in the Vale before.”
His wife.
I am almost entirely sure Korvin is right. He spoke of Amyrah’s pada. It’s something. At the very least, I can tell her he isn’t being held anywhere.
A sigh issues from my chest, a welcome release of pressure. “Thanks, brother.”
I swing open the back door and pause as Shemai sidles into the room, huffing under the weight of the sloshing bucket. I turn back to watch Korvin help him heft it up and dump its contents into the pot.
Yes, they squabble from time to time, but they are both a marvel. Products of darkness, brought up in adversity, children of a tyrant behind closed doors. And yet, somehow untainted by it all. My family.
Korvin catches me watching him, and I avert my eyes. As I duck out the door, his gentle voice slows me.
“I like it when you call me that,” he says. I look over my shoulder, and he seems embarrassed.
“Call you what?”
A subtle smile pulls at his lips. “Brother.”
25. Wehna
WEHNA
THE CART BOUNCES ACROSS the uneven cobbles behind me. I spin around and throw out my hands to steady it, but I am not fast enough. It escapes my reach and overturns, spilling all the drawers of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings everywhere. The wares I failed to sell in the market today—our last means of survival—are all over the street. But I am too numb to react.
Forcing myself to action, I grit my teeth and scramble to retrieve them before they get trampled by valefolk.
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