Gates of Thread and Stone(38)

Since the tree blocked our view of the sky, we relocated near a fountain at the back, nestled between overgrown rose bushes. I knew they were roses from the history texts and because, rarely, I’d seen them shipped from their special gardens in the White Court and sold on the street for fifty credits a stem. I imagined sunshine would smell like this.

The fountain itself was a sad thing. Cracks threaded the stone, and water trickled from the top where green moss clogged the spout. It reminded me of the slime that grew on the walls in the Labyrinth. Definitely not something I missed. Weeds had crawled up the sides of the fountain, creeping over the rim to dip into the murky inch of water at the bottom of the basin.

I sat on the fountain’s overgrown rim, watching Avan. He took a seat beside me, his hand lingering on his arm where Irra had almost cut him.

He noticed me watching and dropped his hand. “Irra’s a little off in the head, isn’t he? Maybe that’s what happens when you’re immortal. Living forever must mess with a person’s mind.”

Maybe insanity was the price of eternity. Nature’s way of keeping balance, as Irra had said. I could see this gloomy sort of balance reflected in this entire place: Etu Gahl was a fortress of perpetual deterioration that could expand by pulling whole rooms and floors from who knew where. And this sliver of a courtyard, which Irra kept green and alive despite what I’d seen his rotting touch could do.

Growth and decay.

“It’s all so impossible,” I said.

Faced with truths I never would have imagined, I still had no idea what I was. I had tried so hard to remember, to pull images and thoughts from those years of my life before Reev, questions I had finally forced myself to bury. But those questions rose again to the surface. What did Irra mean when he said I’d been born of the River?

And he’d spoken of Time as if it was a person—which, considering Irra had called himself Famine, maybe it was.

“Yeah, but I’ve seen what you can do. Nothing is impossible after that.”

It was still disarming having other people know about me. For so long, this had been my secret. Mine and Reev’s.

But Reev had other secrets.

“Do you think Irra is being honest with us?” I asked. “He’s pretty quick to offer up help.”

“We’re his guests,” Avan said. “He’s given us food, shelter, and protection. And now he’s going to get us back into Ninurta. We’re not exactly in a position to question his motives.”

“I didn’t realize you were so blindly trusting.”

Avan’s expression darkened, and he regarded me coolly. I didn’t know how he could go from warm to cold so quickly. I’d seen a lot of Avan’s “faces”: the polite but distant shop clerk, the beautiful boy with a smile that could spin fantasies, the friend unwilling to leave me alone in the darkness. And the kid from the Alley who hid behind a cool exterior when anyone tried to peer past his walls.

I didn’t understand why he felt he needed those walls with me. After what we’d been through, I thought our friendship had gotten past this.

Maybe I should have chosen my words more carefully. I thought of those rumors about Avan accepting anyone’s bed to keep from going home. Guilt stung my chest.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “You’re right. I should be more grateful. I am grateful.” And I was. I had no illusions about where we’d be now without Irra. “It just worries me that he’s helping us without asking for much in return. Information is great, sure, but is that really it?” In my experience, there was always a catch.

But maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe this was what the Infinite did when they weren’t . . . building human cities to spite one another.

Avan’s fingers plucked at the weeds clinging to the fountain. “I don’t trust him. But we don’t have any other options.”

I tucked my hair behind my ear. “I know.”

He sighed heavily. “Do you think maybe Reev knew about all this?”

I looked at him. “About what? The Infinite?”

He shrugged. “He was a sentinel. He must have escaped for a reason. What if it wasn’t coincidence that he found you?”

“What are you saying? That Reev had something to do with me losing my memory?”

I had told Avan years ago that I couldn’t remember anything from before I was eight. At the time, he said he envied me.

“I’m not saying anything. I’m just . . . thinking out loud.”

“Reev took care of me,” I said. Whatever Reev had kept from me, I’m sure it had been in my best interest. “I trust him completely.”

Avan’s dark eyes locked on mine. “Exactly. I’ve seen the way you look at him, Kai. The way you talk about him.” He dropped his gaze. “You love him so much that it blinds you to his faults. You won’t even consider—”

“I love him in spite of his faults. He’s my brother.”

Avan’s lips curved, but it was a mockery of a smile. “Yeah. Your brother. You don’t even realize it.”

“Realize what?” I demanded.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and the look that darted across his face made something wrench inside me. “He has so much of you already,” he said, the words stilted as if they were being forced from him. “Is there anything left for—” He cut himself off and shook his head. “For anyone else?”