Siege of Shadows (Effigies #2)(53)

“Sounds like a family affair.” A family of Sect-bound warriors, specially trained within carefully curated cohorts . . . until it was Rhys’s turn. “Did you go?” I asked Brendan.

Brendan’s expression turned sour for just a moment before his chin lifted a little higher, as if he were trying to save face. “No. Selections aren’t made on the basis of family, but skill. Rhys was chosen when he was twelve, a year younger than the general recruiting age. Though technically he did have Father’s recommendation. It’s a great honor.” He’d put emphasis on the word. It rang out into the darkness below. “Particularly for the youngest,” he added under his breath, his jaw tightening afterward ever so subtly. “And yet he’s angry just because training was a bit difficult. As if that weren’t the whole point.”

“Yeah, when I said it’s not something we need to talk about, I actually meant that.” Rhys’s footsteps were getting heavier behind me. That menacing hint in his voice wouldn’t stay buried forever. Even though I could breathe easy knowing it wasn’t directed at me, it put me on edge nonetheless. This wasn’t a subject he wanted broached.

Brendan didn’t seem to notice that.

“I’m not even surprised he’d be like this.” He was talking to me now, as if he’d already given up on talking to Rhys. “We haven’t seen each other in a year. Barely talked. And yet the second he sees me, he doesn’t even say hello. I mean, I said hello, because I’m the civil, responsible one. The nice one. But he just stood there.” Brendan didn’t seem to realize how ridiculous he sounded. “He’s always like this. I bet he’s told you nothing but the worst about me. Our father, too.”

“He doesn’t really talk about either of you that much,” I said stiffly, because I could feel Rhys burning a hole through the back of my head.

“Because it’s personal,” Rhys said irritably. “How much have you told me about your family, Maia?”

“Everything there is to know about them was probably in whatever file you read before you met me,” I coolly reminded him.

Well, he may have had a point nonetheless. I didn’t offer up information about myself too willingly. But for me, learning more about Rhys wasn’t about simple curiosity. Not with Natalya’s screams echoing from the depths of me.

I touched the graveyard-cold steel contraption around my neck. Feeling the slight pinch at the back from Mellie’s injection, I wondered silently when I would be free of it.

“It’s not personal, Aidan. That’s the thing,” Brendan said. “It was never personal. Father chose you. You should be proud of that. He chose you.” His voice wavered. “Fisk-Hoffman was notorious for being tough but fair. And when that rough patch was over, by the time it was Aidan’s turn in the so-called Devil’s Hole, the Council had gotten rid of the staff making a mess of things and the facility had been restored to its former glory. It was better than it’d ever been.”

A mess of things? I would have prodded for more information, but Rhys’s icy snickering cut me off before I could get the words out.

“Former glory?” That was all he said before falling silent.

Finally, Brendan stopped and looked up at him. “Precisely, but you seem to disagree. If I’m wrong, then tell me why.”

Rhys didn’t. He didn’t say a word. He only stared off to the side, his gaze tracing a line up the wall. It may have been the way the whites of his eyes caught the light, but they seemed to be glimmering. Wet.

I didn’t like seeing it. “Rhys . . .” I reached out to him, but he blinked very quickly and turned from me.

Brendan clucked his tongue impatiently. “I don’t know if this is about those five—the ones we thought had died in the fire. Or maybe you’re acting like this because the facility’s training regime was harder than you’d expected. It may have been for a short time, but you received top training from the same facility Father did. Under Father’s recommendation. And you can always trust Father’s recommendation.”

Rhys turned a glare upon him. “Don’t you say that. You know how Dad was as well as I do.”

Almost by instinct, Brendan’s hand floated to his left arm. He rubbed it gently, as if to cradle it. It was still there when he answered his little brother. “Yes, I know how he was. A serious and dedicated man who wanted the best—”

“Who wanted perfection.”

“—for not only his sons but for the Sect as a whole. He’s never given anyone more than they can handle. And whether it’s the Sect or his family, his every decision is always to make us stronger. Any objections to that, Aidan?”

In the silence that followed, Rhys shut his eyes. Brendan’s self-satisfied smirk made it clear he interpreted that as a sign of little brother finally backing down. It was a power struggle that he was clearly desperate to win. His chest puffed out more when he figured he had.

“Good. I’m glad you finally see things my way, little brother.” He’d probably emphasized the word “little” to knock him down a peg, but it came off as more of a self-assurance. He straightened his back. “Now, both of you can continue to follow me. And, Aidan, you’ll do well to keep a more respectful tone from now on. Although we’re family, I’m still in charge.”