Page 6

T he taste of canal water in the dark air pulls me forward, and I tumble down a bank under a moonless sky.

One splash is followed by another. I catch my breath as I make out Quin’s silhouette, tight with frustration, rowing violently.

As he passes, a lantern hanging at the stern casts dim light over the staunch line of his jaw, and I’m desperate to understand.

I run alongside the canal and make a leaping jump into his boat.

I’m almost knocked out again when Nicostratus appears on the winds and drops onto my bench. I lurch to my feet and perch awkwardly on the side, between the brothers. Nicostratus is lightly armoured and wears his red military cloak, a contrast against Quin’s dark clothes and darker expression.

Quin pauses mid-row.

“You’re upset,” Nicostratus murmurs. “But running off into the capital on this night...”

“Better than being trapped in here. ”

“I’m sorry, brother. Father is thinking about your protection. Should he die... he’s thinking about the overall good.”

“Right now, Nico, I don’t want to understand him.”

Nicostratus nods sombrely, and slowly they enter a misty section of the canal.

I peer through the fog on a shiver and spy a craggy island with a castle intact.

Neither brother knows yet that this island will soon be ruined, will soon become that island, a place of death. Including the order for Quin’s own.

We pass in silence, and Quin meets his brother’s eyes, speaking gruffly. “Will you join me?”

“Military training. You know how volatile Uncle gets on this night.”

“Then you mustn’t be late.”

Nicostratus kicks off out of the boat and treads on the wind, bowing to Quin with a grin.

“I’ll come with you tomorrow night, no matter the punishment.”

“Drinks at the academy?”

“You know it, brother.”

Nicostratus soars off, and Quin stops rowing to pinch the bridge of his nose. “The overall good?” He shakes his head and picks up the oars again; with mighty pulls, he escapes the royal city and enters the capital.

At the first blooms of lovelights dancing around couples on the canal banks, I startle. The lovelight festival. This is that night. I suck in a breath—

There. A figure careens around the bend on the path that runs six feet above the canal edge.

He’s looking over his shoulder at the group of linea—those haughty firstborns of high officials from the cat incident—chasing him, flinging spells that Chaos has ducked and jumped and run from since they spotted him in town.

Quin stops rowing, frowning at the sight; Chaos turns his head, hurrying faster along the path, his thin cloak whipping behind him.

Quin almost drops his oar, and then swiftly steers his boat under the next bridge.

When Chaos streaks past, Quin flicks his hand and a gust topples Chaos off the path into the deep shadows below. And into his arms.

Chaos’s eyes widen and Quin’s finger presses over his lips.

“ Where’d he go ?”

“ Must have reached the other side. Come, we’ll get him yet.”

The rowboat drifts back out from under the bridge and farther away from them as the clank and clatter of their boots fades away.

Chaos is still frozen on Quin’s lap. Quin’s finger is still at Chaos’s lips.

And then all around, lovelights twirl against the night sky, their reflections dazzling in the inky water.

The lights turn the trees into a rustle of moving shadow and glitter, dancing over faces as Quin and Chaos stare at one another.

I press a hand lightly to each of their chests.

Chaos’s, I know, is a ruckus—he’d been so surprised at this sudden and timely appearance that he couldn’t quite process anything. Quin’s... is also banging hard.

He moves his finger gently off Chaos’s mouth, and Chaos blinks.

He saw this moment almost the way I’m seeing it now: he’s noticed something about the softness in that gaze; he’s felt something in the shiver that rolls through him.

He’s almost aware, and yet he doesn’t trust those feelings.

He doesn’t know what to do with them. His breath becomes trapped in the extended silence, and he tells himself hurriedly that all this is just.

.. relief. Relief at having evaded those nasty linea.

For the rest of the night, everything will be filtered through that, and the memory of waking up alone in an abandoned mountaintop luminarium.

His eyes glitter with a little loathing and a lot of life.

My palm, still pressed against Quin’s chest, feels Quin’s pent breath.

Chaos leans forward brazenly, like he might nip and pull at the mask on Quin’s face.

Quin abruptly throws him off his lap, and Chaos lands in a sprawl on the bank.

“I’m not your enemy.”

“You’re not my friend either.”

I feel the weight of those words on Quin; I hear his anguish as he reminds himself over and over that he can’t have friends.

I grit my teeth. I want to shove this ignorant Chaos into the icy water so he’d wake up, so he’d see , so he’d admit the truth that is itching low in his stomach .

I fold my arms instead and sigh as I pin Quin with a disapproving glance. “Of all the men, this one?”

“What were you up to tonight, before you ran into those men? Should I drop you off to someone?”

My head whips back to Quin. “What a question,” I say drily.

Chaos pats his belt, but the pouch he’s hunting for came loose in the chase. He looks at Quin, his eyes suddenly glittering. “Are you hungry? How about some pecan puffs?”

“Pecan puffs?”

“Ground pecans in a creamy custard set into the lightest, flakiest pastries, and pretty taffy art to top it.” The rumble of his stomach punctuates this reverent description. “Shall we share a plate?”

Head shaking, Quin picks up his oars. “You’ve lost your money, haven’t you?”

“Please? They’re a hassle to make so they only sell them at the lovelight festival. I’ll have to wait an entire year...”

“I don’t know. Buying someone dessert sounds like something a... friend would do.” Quin suddenly deflates and quickly pulls his oars.

“What . . . Are you upset ?”

Quin pinches his lips.

“Well, I’m upset too,” Chaos says, walking quickly alongside. “You took off without a word!”

Chaos frowns when Quin looks at him, expecting this to be it, another sudden departure, but instead Quin is soon on the bank, tapping Chaos’s rumbling belly with the end of his cane. “Pecan puffs.”

As they move through the streets, he sneaks glances at Chaos while Chaos isn’t aware.

In fact, Chaos isn’t aware of anything—not the cold cobbles, not the pretty lanterns strung along the streets, not the flashes of lovelights blooming in the skies.

He’s thoroughly perplexed, trying to work Maskios out, to reconcile all the contradictions—he halts abruptly on a thought outside the inn, and then when they’ve barely taken their seats at a small table, demands, “Why are you still hurt?”

Quin stiffens, like he’s realised he’s almost given himself away. I take a seat and watch him for clues—there, a slight flush, quickly schooled. The beginning of his lie. “Father was furious at my absence that night. I was punished. I’m to heal without magic.”

“He’s tough on you.”

“He’s tough on everyone.”

He clears his throat when Chaos’s brow arches. “My brother disobeyed him too. We’re both hobbling on canes today.”

“Then let’s order sikelion lamb and emberfruit pheasant, too. And some borage tea.” Chaos grins. “With that, I can take away your pain.”

“You just want more free food.”

“We both win.”

It’s while they make their way through the dishes that soon fill the table that I notice new things, things that aren’t in my own memories of this evening; things that Chaos is completely unaware of as he points out all the healing properties of their shared feast.

I smirk as groups of pretty women whisper from the edges of the room, pointing at Chaos, sighing. That blonde hair, that perfect face! He’s here without a girl, it’s during the lovelight festival, he must be unattached.

What would it take to attach him?

How about you faint beside his table and see if he comes to your rescue?

When she tries, Quin slyly flicks spells from under the table, causing her to topple into another man’s arms.

Later, dancers are leaping and twirling around tables, the leader with her eyes fixed with fascination on my profile.

Again, Quin flicks a spell and she and her dancers fall into a great silky heap behind me.

While Chaos moans into a delightful bite of pecan puff, he flicks a spell at a woman merely gazing at me, and she spills her wine all down her skirts.

I lean in on my elbow, cupping my chin and laughing. “You’re like a king guarding his borders. Am I your kingdom, Quintus?”

Chaos suddenly puts down his pastry and looks directly over the table at Quin. “Enough.”

Quin shifts, chest puffed on a held breath, as if he thinks he’s been caught.

“Why do you keep frowning? Why are you sharing this meal with me? Why were you so upset before? ”

“I was upset before I met you tonight.” Quin looks away, his jaw quivering. “My marriage has been arranged.”

There’s one last crumb of pastry left on the plate. Suddenly Chaos’s gaze is fixed on that morsel as he squirms restlessly. “Arranged?”

“But I can’t. I really can’t.”

“Is she not nice enough? Pretty enough?”

“She’s plenty nice and plenty pretty. That’s not it, Caelus. Being with someone should be intimate, passionate. Should be felt deep inside. I can’t be that with her.” He looks at Chaos, something desperate in his gaze; in the shake of his head. “Do you understand? I can’t. ”

Chaos pales and I cringe at where his mind leads him next. His eyes wander down Quin’s body to where he disappears under the table, and lingers. He gulps.

I slink deep in my seat on a hammering heart. Chaos picks up the last morsel of pastry puff and pops it into his mouth, nodding. “I understand.” He doesn’t. The meal they’ve just shared... he suddenly sees it as part of a transaction. Payment for... medical help.

Quin’s eyes close on a shaky exhale, only to open to Chaos leaning over the table with a pointed downward glance and a whisper. “I can get that happy for you.”

I freeze along with Quin, and when Quin grabs his cane and hurtles to his feet, so do I.

I’ve never been so glad to flee. Quin drops money on the table and I latch onto his back, arms slung around his neck as he rides the wind back to his boat.

There, he alternates between hitting his cane on the bench and laughing and groaning .

I take his cane and have a whacking-groaning session myself. All these moments we’ve had, and I didn’t know it. I should have savoured each one. Instead, like this night too, Chaos will storm off irritated at being suddenly abandoned.

Why are you irritated, Chaos? Really ask yourself why.

I slump onto the bench and swallow thickly as Quin takes up his oars and heaves them through water, faster and harder, until we’re once more inside the royal city.

“I shouldn’t see him again,” Quin says finally. “I won’t.”