Gates of Thread and Stone(47)

I lifted my arm, studying the bruise.

Nel. I reminded myself I wanted this. Logically, I knew that switching my ID was a smart tactic. It didn’t change anything about me. But I couldn’t help feeling as if I’d left a bit of myself behind in that room. More than my blood.

My house is a place of forgotten things.

Giving up my name felt like, this time, I was letting my identity be taken from me—everything I’d been, everything I had become. Would that bit of me wither away, merge into the ever-growing walls of Etu Gahl?

I rubbed my hands down my arms. How long had it been since Avan went in? Twenty minutes? He should have been done by now. Remembering the incident with the clippers, I suddenly wasn’t sure if leaving Irra with Avan and an array of sharp tools had been a good idea.

I stood and paced the aisle between the cots. Another twenty minutes passed before Avan emerged.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Tension pinched the corners of his mouth. “We had some complications,” he said. “But it’s done now. My ID says I’m Savorn.”

He held his arm against his side, hiding the bend of his elbow. I reached over. “Let me see.”

He showed me his arm. It was completely unmarred. I swept my thumb over his skin. His muscles jumped beneath my fingers.

“Did he even . . . ?”

“Yes,” Avan said, lowering his arm. “I told you it’s done.”

“Avan—”

“I’m joining the Tournament with you.”

I stepped back. “I can’t believe you gave up your chance to go home.”

“There will be other chances after we save Reev. And it’s my choice. I made a promise to myself when we left Ninurta. I’m not leaving you.”

I wanted to yell at him. I should have. He’d made the wrong choice. I could have done the rest of this without him—I was determined enough to try. But . . . despite how much I wanted to push Avan away from this mess, a part of me was glad he’d chosen to stay.

He put up a hand. “Don’t. It’s over. I’m not doing that again just to get another ID.”

My gaze cut to his arm. “What were the complications?” It was a needle in a vein. What could have gone wrong?

“Nothing worth repeating. I’m going to do some extra training,” he said, and brushed past me.

I watched him go, his shoulders stiff.

G-10 had said that the descendants of the Infinite healed rapidly. I had yet to see any injuries on Avan, even after our tumble off the Gray. If Avan was mahjo, it would also explain how he sensed my manipulation of time.

Have you considered the possibility that you might be like Irra?

Maybe that first night here, Avan hadn’t been talking only about me. Maybe, even then, he’d suspected.

What if you could find out for sure? Would you want to know?

I was willing to bet that he had figured out the answer for himself. And he didn’t seem thrilled about it.





CHAPTER 22




ON OUR LAST day with Irra and the hollows, we trained in the courtyard. G-10 had warned us that for our final lesson he wouldn’t hold back, because he felt we could handle it. Still, I winced through Avan’s fight.

Avan was growing into a good fighter, fast and powerful, but G-10 was a fully trained sentinel with a collar that enhanced his already superhuman abilities. When Avan finally landed a kick that knocked G-10 down, G-10 flipped easily to his feet and congratulated him. No one mentioned how Avan’s brief limp improved almost immediately.

In my fight, I dodged more often than not but managed to land a few quick jabs that made G-10 bare his teeth in approval.

Afterward, I sprawled on the grass, exhausted. But it was a good sort of exhaustion. I had gotten used to the insane training regimen. I was almost sorry it was over. A few minutes after G-10 left, a hollow I recognized as a medic from the hospital wing joined us in the courtyard.

Seeing as it was our last day, I let her prod my skin and feel along my bones while asking if it hurt. “Nothing’s broken,” she announced once she finished. “But this is some impressive bruising.”

She fished in her bag and withdrew a vial. She held it up and swished its contents. Then she popped open the top and offered it to me.

I gave the vial a dubious look.

“It’s a healing tonic,” she said, pushing the vial into my hand. “We developed it from studying our own increased healing abilities.”

“Why would you need tonic?” Avan asked. He was sitting beneath the tree, looking attractively mussed but not the least bit tired.

“Some of us heal almost instantly, but a few of us don’t seem to have increased healing at all. It’s different from hollow to hollow. This just makes things easier for everyone, especially whenever Ninu sends sentinels into the Void to look for us.”

I tipped the contents into my mouth. It tasted bitter. I coughed, grimaced, and handed back the empty vial.

“G-10 told me you guys are leaving tomorrow for the White Court,” the medic said. “You should be all healed by morning. Can’t have you going into the Tournament looking like you were trampled by a Gray.”

“Thanks,” I said, dropping onto the grass again. Was it my imagination or did I already feel a bit better?

The medic didn’t bother checking Avan before she left. Did everyone know? More importantly, was Avan ever going to tell me?