Chapter 8

“In a castle high, where shadows loom, lived a king so proud, he sealed his doom. With a crown of gold and a heart of stone, he ruled with a fist, never alone. His people would whisper, they’d tremble in fright, for each majesty’s whim brought a darkening night. A throne built on pride, with no love to show, the kingdom once bright now lay low.”

Excerpt from a local allegory often recited to children, incomplete, source unknown.

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I shove Nex into my room like a teenager’s secret and close the door behind me.

“Did you know you’re very handsy?” he remarks as he adjusts his cloak to sit squarely on his shoulders again.

“Do you say everything you think?” I deadpan, kicking off my mismatched boots and scooting them into the corner behind the door. I turn to Nex, who is about to respond, but I lift a finger to stop him.

“Here’s how this is going to work; you will stay within six feet of me the entire time you’re here until I feel you’ve taught me what I need to know. Only after that point, will I return your papers to you. Deal?” I stand with my hands on my hips and an impenetrable attitude. Nex copies my pose, but seems more interested in vexing me than taking me seriously.

“I have one condition,” he states.

“Is it being impertinent?” I jeer.

“You’d think,” Nex grins, which is not the reaction I’d hoped for. “I want to add another incentive for myself.”

“What is more incentivizing than getting your ‘freedom’ back?” I exclaim, but try keeping my voice down.

Nex rubs his square chin. “I want noodles.”

My eyebrows furrow and I blink twice. “You want… noodles?”

He nods. “Your noodles, to be precise. I will agree to teach you what I know in exchange for my papers and your noodles.”

At this, the corner of my mouth pulls up. “Okay, deal,” I say firmly and extend a hand to him. He eagerly takes it, the cool leather of brown glove meeting the leather of my hand-guard. Nex releases my hand and turns, taking in the room. If I owned enough possessions to create a mess in my bedroom, I would’ve felt slightly embarrassed by his studious eyes. But the only valuable possessions I own are tied to my body.

Nex’s eyes land on the narrow bed, and he shoots a mischievous glance over his shoulder. “Only one bed? I guess we’ll have to—”

“You get the floor,” I interrupt.

I can’t tell if Nex intends his pout as a joke or in sincerity, but I decide to ignore it as I walk to my dresser to prepare for a restless night’s sleep. I remove my left hand-guard, placing it on the top of the dresser, and tug at the metal buckle at the wrist of my right hand-guard when I stop.

I can’t take this off while he’s here. I don’t need him getting any ideas of using anything against me, I contemplate before dropping my hand from the buckle and instead moving to unbuckle and remove the three belts around my hips and waist. I consider leaving the flasklock pistol and dagger on the dresser, but opt for sleeping with them, just in case. I ignore the way my face grows warm as I decide to leave my pants and shirt on, and quickly shuffle over to the bed and throw my blanket over me like a self-conscious child.

If Nex had been watching me, he doesn’t give it away when I check to see how he’s preparing his new sleeping arrangement. His back is to the dresser as he unhooks his cloak and slides it off of broad shoulders, folding it up like a pillow and placing it on the wooden floor. I’m more annoyed by the fact that the black shirt he has rolled up to his elbows greatly compliments his tanned skin-tone than the fact that I have to suppress a gulp as he undoes the buttons of his maroon vest. If he hadn’t told me he had been a Scavenger, I might’ve deduced it from the defined musculature of his shoulders and arms even through his shirt. The only thing I don’t notice on him is a status tassel.

Once he slips off his vest and places it neatly on the ground next to his matching black boots, I manage to tear my eyes from his athletic form before he notices me staring. The floorboards creak as he must’ve laid down to find any semblance of comfort on the hard floor.

“Almost like home,” he sighs contently, and I nearly fall out of my bed trying to peek over the edge, only to find him laying supine with his hands behind his head on the folded cloak with his eyes closed, the picture of contentment.

I marvel at his ability to make a cold, splintery floor with no blanket to cover him appear comfortable, but don’t feel the inclination to share my blanket. I lay down with my dagger and his pistol tucked under my blanket and restlessly fiddle with my fingers.

“I’ve got some questions for you before you get too comfortable,” I announce into the darkened room, the light from a barely hidden moon filtering in through the small window.

“Okay, fair enough,” Nex says, not sounding the least bit bothered.

“Why did you steal the compendium?”

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“To be clear—”

“You stole it. We were both there, so there’s no point in denying it. So why did you steal it?” I punctuate.

Nex sighs. “I was looking for something.”

“Which was?”

“Personal.”

I sit up on my elbow so I can speak directly at Nex’s obnoxiously relaxed face. “You’re in my bedroom sleeping on my floor, because we made a deal that you would teach me how to win the Stormglass Trials in exchange for me not turning you in and apparently also noodles. You’ve lost the right to personal right now.”

Nex’s face loses some of its softness, and his jaw sharpens as he grows tense, the dappled moonlight blanching the right side of his face and accentuating his scars, weathering him. A moment later and his face returns to its previously relaxed state, but he makes no move to answer my question.

I sigh in defeat, and lay back down. “Fine,” I mutter, but know that Nex can hear me because apparently ‘I’m a loud talker’.

I roll my eyes at the notion. I’ve known Nex a grand total of a few hours and he’s somehow managed to find a flimsy lose thread in my carefully weaved metaphorical tapestry of composure. And he keeps tugging at it. Out of pure desire to irritate him in return, I wait till I hear his breathing slow to ask another question.

“Have you ever been to Callanth before?” I ask loudly and abruptly. When I hear a sudden shuffle from the floor, I try not to giggle.

“A couple of times,” Nex replies, although slurred. “Never took the time to look around though.”

“Then why did you come to Callanth in the past if not to look around?”

“My apprenticeship usually keeps me busy and indoors,” he answers, less sleepily now. I open my mouth to ask my next question, but Nex beats me to it. “So, Ryn, why were you in the Citadel so late? Not worn out enough from yesterday?”

I’m caught off guard by his question. “I, uh, I was invited.”

A chuckle sounds from the floor. “Traders usually aren’t simply ‘invited’ to the Citadel with no agenda.”

“I had an appointment,” I state proudly. “With a High Chemist.”

“Oh? What for?”

“He wanted to show me his laboratory. Then he extended an invitation to apply for his Chemist’s apprenticeship.”

“I’m surprised. I had no idea you’d completed Institute.”

“You just met me, and I haven’t. He encouraged me to apply anyway.”

Nex whistles. “Impressive. She participated in a Stormglass Trial, cooks, and draws the attention of a High Chemist. Mind if I ask why?”

“Why what?” I ask, finding a knot in the wooden planks of the ceiling where the paint is peeling to stare at.

“Why did you participate in the Trial? Everyone has a different reason,” he reasons.

I contemplate his question, the answer right there, yet I know I can’t use it. Not without putting myself in an extremely vulnerable position, and Nex would no doubt exploit it.

“I want to see what it’s like being inside the storm. I’ve watched it from above all my life, the way it moves and rolls into the horizon, like there wasn’t an entire civilization thriving below it once. I want to see if there’s more down there than just wind and rain,” I copy the answer I gave Sulien, adding another lie — if only partial — to the list of subterfuges I’ll repent of later.

“Well,” Nex says in a whisper after a long pause. “If that’s why you risked your life in the Trial, I might need to add ‘naive’ to your list.”

I’m taken aback enough by his comment that I forget to scoff or even yell at him.

The audacity of this man. I list a long string of curses in my mind.

“So how long were you a Scavenger for?” I pry, deserting any attempt at keeping my volume low, determined to return the rude favor.

“One year,” he replies.

“And why did you join?” I ask, a snide remark sitting ready on my tongue like a hawk with its eyes on its prey.

“For my brother,” he answers.

This gives me pause. “So you and your brother were Scavengers together?”

“Yep,” he responds, popping the p.

I imagined some asinine reason I could poke fun of the way he had mine, but Nex sounded unscrupulously genuine, and I can’t condemn that.

“Now, if you don’t mind, can we continue the interrogation tomorrow? You’ll need your rest,” Nex pleads, moving around on the floor, likely to reposition himself.

“Why’s that?” I ask, turning my head and notice Nex’s ankle resting atop his other bent knee.

“Our first training,” he yawns.

“Right,” I mumble bashfully, my heart giving a light flutter at the initiative.

“Besides, you’ll need to keep your wits about you, especially if you’re going to get distracted by the way the storm ‘moves and rolls’,” he repeats my words in a mocking voice, and it takes every fiber within me to not rip his flasklock pistol out from under my blanket and see if he wants to repeat himself with a pistol in his face.

I bite my tongue and roll over to face the window. “I’ll poison your noodles,” I murmur, which I’m sure Nex still hears, but he doesn’t comment.

The growing silence between us allows my eyelids to start to drop, but there is one more thing I need to do before I let sleep steal me away. I crane my neck as best I can while lying on my side on my pillow to steal a glimpse through the window.

Well, today didn’t quite turn out the way I had expected… or hoped. But I can’t be picky about where I get help or from whom. I just pray it’ll make a difference, that this wont be a waste of time, a very risky waste of time. I figure as long as I train in the mornings and run The Copper Bowl in the afternoons to early evenings, I could spend time in the laboratory till late. It’ll have to work. I’ll make it work, I conclude my prayer to Hesperia. Even if the view of the goddess’ constellation is obscured by the snowy clouds, I can still pinpoint exactly where Hesperia’s embrace begins and ends. The location has been constant since my mother taught me its significance as a young child.

I pull my legs up, ready to welcome sleep, when the sound of crinkling catches my attention. Nex’s identification pamphlet. Quietly, I maneuver the dry pamphlet out of my pocket, and when I’m certain Nex is asleep — his snores are a good indicator — I open it. I study the information displayed in elegant letters, taking note that he is three years older than me.

Doesn’t act like it, I purse my lips with a soft huff.

Aside from his age, his name, origin, and physical description, there is no new information that he hasn’t already shared. Slightly disappointed, I move to stuff it back into my pocket, but change my mind, slipping the creased paper down my shirt, certain that there is no excuse valid enough for him to go looking there.

I sigh. I have to drag him along with me everywhere, don’t I? I realize with a deep grimace painted on my face. I don’t need the involuntary twitch of my right hand to know that I’ve set myself up for that predicament. As my eyes drift closed, one final thought echoes in my mind. Please let this work.