The Glass Arrow(53)

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

It takes him a while to answer.

“Checking on you. You were so … boring the last time we met.”

I was drugged actually, but I don’t correct him because it’s clear he’s still drunk. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot, and as he rises he stumbles and catches himself on the bedframe.

“You should go walk that off,” I tell him.

“I can think of better things to do,” he says.

There’s evil in him. Dark, ugly, evil. It makes me shake down to my very boots. Carefully, I step to the side, and he follows. Mirroring me like we are dancing. Then he lunges, and I dodge out of the way.

“Still want to play a hiding game?” He grins and rolls up his sleeves.

We’ve almost traded places—him near the door, me near the bed. I search for something to defend myself with and grab a pillow.

“Spying on me, huh?” I say. My heart is galloping.

“The walls have ears.” He steps closer, and I throw the pillow at him. He bats it out of the way.

“Then I’m sure it’ll get back to the mayor that you’re in here now,” I say. “He got me for his son, you know.”

I hate saying the words, but I’m willing to say almost anything if it keeps him back.

“His son,” Greer spits. “His son. Do you know how many girl children the mayor has had destroyed? More than you can count, I’m sure.”

The words bring a sick feeling to my belly. He stops moving finally and stares at the shapes changing on the wall, mesmerized. I edge past him back to the door, and even though I know it’s still locked, I try the handle again. It doesn’t move.

“He can’t make a male,” says Greer after a long pause. “He lacks the necessary fortitude.”

“Looks like he managed somehow,” I say, trying to keep him talking about something other than me.

“Of course,” he says. “Of course he did. How else could little Amir have been created?”

The truth is plain as day in his face. In his black, beady eyes that match the boy’s almost perfectly.

“There are treatments for that, I’m sure,” I say, delaying.

“Oh surely,” he agrees. My throat ties in knots. I think of the medical exam, the powerlessness I had on that table. It will not happen again.

He turns towards me. “There are treatments, but then word would get out of the mayor’s little problem. The leader of our great city can’t have such a fatal flaw, wouldn’t you agree?”

He’s getting close again. Too close.

“Does the boy know?” I ask.

Greer looks impressed—as if he’s surprised I’m smart enough to have pieced the puzzle together.

He runs his finger down the jagged length of his scar. “A fine payment for services rendered, wouldn’t you say?” The finger moves over his thin lips. “I wasn’t supposed to tell. It slipped out.”

“The walls have ears,” I say, voice trembling.

“Yes,” he says. “But not in the bedrooms. The mayor will have his privacy there.” He spreads his arms. “Here.”

My heart sinks.

“There’s a legend about it, you know,” he says. “About two powerful men sharing one woman. It nearly destroyed the Brotherhood.”

“I’ve heard of it.” My mind flashes to my ma’s old stories of the Red Years.

“She tricked them,” he says. “But she also reminded them of the truth: that a dog may eat a man’s food and sleep in a man’s bed, but that does not make it a man.”

My jaw tightens. He laughs, and the sound sinks its claws straight into my bones.

“You know Amir’s mother was wild as well. We captured her from the Drylands. She was exotic. Wiry hair, skin like cinnamon. My brother kept her even after she conceived three girls. He just knew she’d give him a boy.” His mouth quirks in a twisted smile. “And she did.”

Greer’s moving closer, stalking me like a predator. The door is firm against my back. I might be able to get by him again, but where would I go?

Blood pumping, I lower, fingers bared like claws. He smiles and loosens the silk tie around his neck.

Just then, the door handle turns, and Amir steps inside.

Greer straightens.

“What are you doing here?” Amir asks him. I’ve never been happier to have that kid around. He’s calmer than the last time I saw him. His face is pasty white, but for an orange smear on his cheek. Looks like he’s gotten a little treat for being such a pain.

“Just making sure your new pet has settled in,” says Greer.

“Oh,” says Amir. He turns to me. “She can’t have any dinner.”

“Why is that?” asks Greer, kneeling before his son. I wonder if the child knows who his real father is. Greer didn’t really answer my question before.

“She was bad earlier. She needs to be punished.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

“I see,” says Greer. “Well you can play with her tomorrow. I’ll be going on a hunting expedition.”

“Where?” I ask, fear cooling my fight.

“Somewhere in the hills, I don’t know. A scout said he found a nest of undocumented females living in the wild.” He rises to meet my eyes. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”