Within These Wicked Walls(28)

I paused. “That’s possible. But—” I stumbled sideways and pressed my hand to the side of my head, nearly biting off my tongue. Sharp pain radiated through my scalp and I blinked a few times to clear my vision from the impact, only for it to be clouded again by tears. Stupid eyes, tearing. Traitors. “So it wasn’t a dangerous Manifestation? Nothing to worry about?”

“You cannot drown and also be alive.” Jember was in no rush to pursue me, walking, tapping the staff against the wall. “How did you secure a client without a license?”

I backed up to match his approach. This time I wouldn’t be caught off guard. “He considered no licensure a benefit.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “In order to pay you less?” I could tell his mind was running through all the options of my circumstance, and it wouldn’t be long before he landed on the correct one. Would he help me if he knew I was working a job he himself had refused?

“He paid me enough. I haven’t starved to death, have I?”

He’d nearly herded me out to the main sanctuary, but suddenly stopped. “You can’t keep this up much longer without a license. And you don’t have the skill level to pursue a patronage.”

“Whose fault is that?” I felt my face get hot, hate for him rising up again. “You said marry a stranger or live on the street. You gave me no choice but to take matters into my own hands.”

“Are you looking for a new mentor?”

“What do you care, old man? You left me to die.”

I stumbled back, the wind of the maqomiya’s rush tickling my nose. I winced as it splintered against the wall, bracing myself against the opposite one to avoid the end that snapped and skittered across the ground. We were silent as it rolled and finally came to a stop. I never saw it, only heard, because I was glaring at him as he glared at me. Hate knotted the back of my throat, trapping my voice … hate to cover the pain, that mingled with fear, that tainted my longing.

His leg was hurting, I knew, because he didn’t come after me. Instead he gripped the ruined staff and watched me hate him, without giving me a reason to contradict myself.

Jember was truly heartless. I’d always known it, but now it felt confirmed. An empty shell of a human being. God, the thought of it made me want to weep, but I fought back the urge. He didn’t deserve to see human emotions felt on his behalf … he didn’t deserve to know that I wished—longed—for him to feel something for me in return. Something human, unprompted by necessity.

I winced, but the broken staff didn’t come at me again. Instead he dropped it at my feet.

“Stop acting like a child, Andromeda,” he said, his voice dark. “You chose this. Don’t blame me for your poor survival habits.”

He turned and left me longing for and hating him, the urge to cry building by the second.

I swallowed the tears back before they could cloud my eyes and rushed out of the church, the saints watching me go in concern and disappointment.





CHAPTER 12


As soon as I made it back to my room with my bag of supplies, I heard the quick stomp of feet accompanied by the harsh jangle of bells. I turned just in time to see Magnus shove the door wide and plant himself in the doorway.

His jaw was clamped tight enough that I could see the muscles there flex, his cheeks burning red.

“What am I paying you for?” he demanded. “What good are you to me if I don’t know where you are?”

His hair was a frizzy mess, his green and blue Nehru-collared shirt just long enough to hide that he hadn’t decided on pants yet. I looked away from his bare legs quickly—I didn’t mind Jember pantless, since I’d grown up with it, but for some reason seeing Magnus made me blush. I put the bag down on my bed and began sorting through it, careful to keep my new underthings out of sight. “I went shopping.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“Don’t tell me you missed me.”

He was still scowling, although he seemed to have calmed down from a moment ago. “You are the only human of substance in this house. I’ve been bored out of my mind for days.”

“You’ve entertained yourself for three years, one extra day should be nothing.”

He leaned his shoulder on the doorjamb. “Did you at least bring me something, for all my pain and suffering?”

“I should’ve brought you pants.”

He looked down at himself quickly and rushed out of the doorway. I took the opportunity to put my underthings away while he was gone, but soon enough his socked feet came storming back.

“And another thing,” he said, entering the room as he buckled his belt, “why is it so hot in here? Did you open a window? I can’t stand the heat.”

I rolled my eyes. “You complain too much.”

“No one else seems to have a problem with it.” He sat on my bed and looked up at me, raising his eyebrows. “So? What did you bring me?”

“Nothing. You’re a brat.” I folded the fabric bag, but Magnus took my hand to keep me from moving to put it away. His hand was cold, but soft. Smooth. I had the urge to rub it to warm it up, but kept still. “Do you have something to say to me?”

“At least tell me next time if you’re going out.” He released my hand, then gripped my blanket. “Look, sorry I fussed. I woke up and thought you had—I mean—” He stood up quickly, using his fingers as a comb as he walked toward the door. “Just explain yourself next time. It’s common decency.”