Gates of Thread and Stone(33)

“You believe him?”

“I don’t know yet.”

If Ninu wasn’t mahjo . . . If he and Irra really were immortal . . . then what did that make me?

The mess hall, like the courtyard, was spared the decay of the rest of the fortress. Someone had swept the stone floors and dressed the walls with colorful drapes. Sweet and savory aromas and the heat from the kitchen wafted throughout. It felt comforting. Safe. Like Reev.

My chest tightened. I focused on my laden tray instead.

I took my time eating, sipping my soup and trying bites of everything. I wanted to relish each new taste.

“You know,” Avan said, picking at a bowl of bright fruit slices, “after my final exams last year, I got an invitation from the Academy.”

I put down my spoon, my eyebrows rising. This was news to me. Sometimes, if students did exceptionally well on their final exams, the Academy scouted them for enrollment. If we had stayed in Ninurta, I would have taken my finals at the end of the coming school year.

“And?” I said.

He looked down. “I considered it. I mean, I heard even the lowest-ranking Watchmen make about thirty thousand credits a year. My dad could close his shop.”

That was probably more than what his shop made in two years.

“Why did you turn it down?” I asked. It was a hell of a deal, but no amount of credits could have persuaded me to devote my life to serving the city. I would rather be poor and free, but that didn’t mean Avan felt the same.

His lips quirked. “I couldn’t stomach being one of them.”

I grinned and began to reply, but was startled by a clatter to our left, followed by laughter.

Two tables away, a group of women were talking animatedly. One of them had her hair up in a ponytail, exposing her scarred tattoo—her collar, as G-10 had called it. From what I could tell, Avan and I were the only people in the mess hall without collars.

No one here displayed the same guardedness about it as Reev and that sentinel outside the Labyrinth. I guess there was no shame in something everyone shared. After the talk with Irra, it was easy to figure out what the collars meant. And what that meant about Reev.

Why hadn’t he told me he was a sentinel? I didn’t even know how it could be possible, but there was no other answer.

A heavy body dropped into the space beside me. G-10 beamed as he placed his tray next to mine. His held a modest portion of soup.

I gave him a small smile in greeting. He brushed his sandy hair out of his eyes and then thrust out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, I took it.

“We should have proper introductions this time,” he said. The smattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose made him look young. “I’m G-10. For now.”

“Kai,” I said. “This is Avan.”

He shook hands with Avan as well and nodded to my tray. “Best thing about this place: the food. We’ve always got more than enough to eat.”

Considering Irra’s unlikely claim that he was the personification of Famine, the irony didn’t escape me.

“It’s different than what I’m used to,” I said. I bit into a green vegetable that resembled a tiny cabbage. Sweet juice spilled over my lip, and I licked at it. I never knew a vegetable could taste like this. “Mmm. In a good way.”

When G-10 didn’t say anything else, I glanced up. He was looking at my mouth. Warmth crept into my cheeks even though I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He could’ve been thinking about what a slob I was. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, glancing quickly at Avan. He was watching us with an inscrutable expression.

G-10’s eyes lifted to mine. He looked amused by my reaction. “Did the Rider fill you guys in?”

“Some of it,” I said. Maybe G-10 could fill in the many blanks that Irra’s explanation had left. “Were you a sentinel?”

G-10 made a broad gesture. “We all were. Irra saved us. Severed the leash.” He touched his neck. “But he couldn’t take off the collar. The magic is too complex. It’d kill us to remove it.”

DJ’s information had been considerably off, but I couldn’t blame Irra for keeping him in the dark. DJ wouldn’t hesitate to spill Irra’s secrets for the right price. It still irked me that I’d given him most of our life savings.

“You’re all descendants of people like Irra?” Avan asked. He leaned against my side to talk to G-10, his arm pressed against mine.

Even now, after all the time spent clinging to him on a Gray or sharing his body heat on the cold dirt, his touch sent ribbons of warmth spiraling through me. I fixed my attention on what G-10 was saying.

“They call themselves the Infinite,” G-10 said. “And yeah. Finding out I was mahjo was hard to believe, especially since I don’t have any real magic. Still, being a descendant of immortals does give us some pretty convenient abilities. Rapid healing. Strength. Superior reflexes, that sort of thing. It’s the reason Ninu can brand us with collars. Normal humans wouldn’t survive it.”

The description fit Reev well—my indestructible big brother. Not once in all the years I’d been with him had I seen him hurt or sick.

“What does it do?” I asked, gesturing to his neck.

“The collars are like magnifiers. They seek out whatever traces of magic remain inside us and enhance them so that we can work harder and tire less. After Ninu is done with us—” His gaze slid away. “Can’t really say how much of what’s left is human.”