I didn’t quite understand why he had chosenthis,of all things, to share with me tonight. I would have been pleased withany small tidbit, happily lapped up whatever minor revelation he might have wanted to share. I would have taken the tiniest glimpse ofanything, but this? Fates, this felt so heavy. But I was honored to bear the burden with him, because this story ran deep for Kieran. I could hear it in his voice. These memories…they ran deeper than blood.
Maybe that was why he needed to share them. The weight of our memories never seemed to fade in silence. Solitude, however sweet, only ever seemed to amplify that which haunted people like us, the void of absence attracting all of our ghosts, inviting them in until they took up residence in the deepest recesses of our hearts.
Thank you for inviting me in instead,I said silently, not wanting to interrupt, but willing the sentiment in his general direction all the same.This means more to me than you know.
Kieran cleared his throat before continuing. “In retrospect, everyone in that house had the patience of a saint, but…I digress. The family was big on events, always hosting something. Balls, banquets, soirees…there was always something to celebrate. But for whatever reason, Silas had always seen our name days as a closer, more private family affair. Now, as I mentioned, for those first couple years, I barely spoke. That included refusing to answer, no matter how many times Emma, the cook, would cluck about asking when I was born. Even if I had been talking with any manner of frequency at that point, I don’t think I would have told them…the event of my birth wasn’t something I was taught to celebrate. Not until I was worthy.”
Worthy? Fucking Fates, he was just a child.
So much of Kieran’s story was leaving me with more questions than answers, but again, I held my tongue. We had broken plenty of rules as of late, but this one remained sacred. A boundary I wouldn’t dare to cross. Kieran kept his secrets, as I kept mine.
Still, I felt a trickle of rage slip into my bloodstream, fury over what must have come before Kieran found this new family. What could leave a boy so traumatized that he could barely speak? For years?
“But when I say I’mvery observant,I learned from the best. My older brother had eyes like a hawk, and he noticed that for two years straight, I would disappear from my bed on a specific night in late October, and I wouldn’t return until the next night. I didn’t do anything special. I’d just wander the woods all day long. For some reason, I’d often find myself returning to the place where they’d found me in the forest…I couldn’t tell you why.”
The image of a young boy with ice blue eyes and raven-black hair, wandering alone in the woods, made my chest tighten.Oh, Kier…
“And so, the next year—the year I turned thirteen—my brother found me in the woods. He’d been waiting for me in the clearing, actually. With the help of his father’s guards, he had managed to set up a series of straw-stuffed striking dummies in the middle of the forest, and he handed me a shortsword with a stupid little green bow wrapped around the scabbard. He said, ‘Happy Birthday, Kieran,’ with total confidence. Like he was dead certain he wasn’t wrong…because, well, he wasn’t. I was born on October twenty-seventh.”
I frowned, realizing the date had already come and gone this year.
“Don’t start with me, Little Conduit,” Kieran chuckled. “You can make it up to me next year. Besides, it’s not like we celebrated yours at the end of last February, either, right?”
“How did you find?—”
“By abusing my privileges and access to private student records, obviously,” he interrupted, rolling his eyes.
Damn.Even Laurel and Sia hadn’t managed to get that one out of me yet. I also wasn’t particularly big on celebrating my birthday, but I had…other reasons for that.
“My older brother’s gift that year wasn’t just the sword—it was forcing me to train with him. All godsdamned day. He ran my ass ragged with drills, instructing me on how to wield that blade, teaching me the rules of engagement in a duel, and showing me how to defend myself against a certain style of attack. Through what must have been tedious amounts of observation, my brother had finally figured out how to speak to me in a language I understood.”
I burned with curiosity, desperate to understand why bloodshed had been Kieran’s native tongue ever since he was a boy. It didn’t bother me, not in the ways it probably should have. That protective fury still simmered in the background, yes. The anger I felt toward those faceless figures in my mind, the ones who had failed to protect Kieran’s innocence…That still burned quietly from within.
But the fact that violence was a language Kieran still spoke with perfect fluency? I had never shied away from that part of him. If anything, I had been drawn in by such dangerous ferocity…his predatory grace.
My eyelids grew heavier and heavier as the night wore on, though I urged myself to stay awake, lest he have any more revelations from his past.
“I started talking that day. When we returned to the estate, it was the first time I ever thanked my father for taking me in. I don’t think…” Kieran paused to swallow hard. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on his face, or the way my father pulled me into his arms with tears in his eyes. Life got…so much better after that day. So much easier. Everything changed the day I turned thirteen.”
His voice was thick with both emotion and exhaustion. “So…Yeah. That’s the embarrassingly soft reason why thirteen is my favorite number. And let the record state that if you share that with anyone else, namely Jeremiah or Hans, Iwillbe forced to kill you.”
His tone was so clearly teasing that I didn’t even bother to roll my eyes. I just gazed back at him with sleepy eyes and a soft smile. “Thank you, Kieran.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmured. “But naturally, Asher, you know I have to ask…”
I tilted my head, curious.
“Why is ityourfavorite number?”
I shook my head before stretching my arms above my head, failing to suppress a yawn before rolling over. I nestled myself comfortably into his arms, pressing a kiss against his bare chest.
“That’s a story for another day, Captain,” I whispered.
DAY THREE
AROUSED BY SHARP OBJECTS
CHAPTER SEVEN