Gates of Thread and Stone(49)

“Well,” he said, pushing the cup into my hands, “hard to compete with that, isn’t it?”

What was he talking about? I examined the green liquid before taking a sip. It tasted sweet and a little tart.

“What is this?” I asked, watching the way the green liquid caught the light.

“Fruit juice with a touch of magic for flare,” he said, and then nodded at some glowing blue drinks farther down the table. “Those are alcoholic if you’re inclined.”

“I’m not.”

“Come on.” He pulled me into the crowd of dancers. The hollows shouted happily at us as we passed.

It amazed me that they’d done all this for us, and I appreciated it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what lay ahead of us. G-10 turned around to face me. In the light of the lanterns overhead, I could see the way his eyes searched mine.

“Tomorrow, you leave us,” he said. “But tonight, be here. For a little while.”

“I am here,” I said, lifting the drink in my hand.

He rubbed his thumb against my temple and stepped close enough that I could count the pale freckles on his nose.

“No,” he said. “Be here. Quit thinking about what’s going to happen when you get to Ninurta.” He touched my jaw. It didn’t hurt anymore. “For now, be here.”

I sighed softly. He had arranged all this for us. “All right.”

His eyes lit up. They were really very nice eyes.

“Good,” he said. “Now dance.”

I did, but not very well. He laughed at my attempts, and I laughed along with him. Around us, people twirled and swayed to the music with no embarrassment. I could disappear here. For a little while.

Avan spun by, the pretty hollow clinging to his shoulders. He looked at me, then at G-10, before looking away. The girl’s lips hovered at his ear. I couldn’t tell what she was saying—Avan showed no reaction.

I closed my eyes and let myself move to the beat that vibrated through the floor and into my body.





CHAPTER 23




WE DANCED UNTIL my feet hurt, then G-10 cut me a slice of cake as big as my head. It tasted like nothing I’d ever had: moist and sweet with a hint of lemon. It practically melted in my mouth. G-10 took inordinate pride in detailing how he and Avan helped Chef Rennard prepare it while Hina shouted unproductive suggestions. Afterward, other hollows took my hand and guided me around the floor a few times before returning me to G-10. I collapsed onto a bench and downed another of the tart fruit drinks. Beside me, G-10 looked flushed, his blue eyes bright.

“I think,” he said, “I’ve settled on a name.”

“I was growing fond of G-10.”

He made a face. “Ninu assigned me that name.”

“Oh, well, then it’s a terrible name. What should I call you now?”

“Mason,” he said, and waited for my response. He seemed uncertain.

“That’s a great name. Very strong.”

“Mason it is, then.” He reached out and nudged the hair sticking to my cheek. His knuckles were light against my skin.

In the training ring, he was brutal. Away from it, he was deliberately careful with me. He didn’t hide behind different faces like Avan. Mason was just Mason—whatever his name: serene, controlled, disciplined.

“Excuse me.”

We both looked up at Avan. Mason’s hand fell away.

Avan regarded Mason for a moment before he turned to me. “Dance with me?”

Mason’s fingers brushed my elbow, urging me to stand. “Go on.”

He waved at the musicians, and the song ended with a screech of strings. When the music started again, the notes were slow and silvery. I didn’t know how to move to this. Avan pulled me close with a hand at my back.

“Are you having fun?” I asked, resting my hands on his shoulders, where the other girl had held on to him.

“Yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party.”

Avan had been a fixture at the underground clubs. I knew this because everyone did—up until a couple of years ago when he’d stopped going. And somehow he had still managed to open his dad’s shop every morning. Bleary-eyed and rumpled, but there all the same.

The girls at school liked to corner me for details, convinced that because I was Avan’s friend, I had insider information on him. But Avan didn’t talk about his private life, and I never asked. I didn’t want to know.

“The clubs—are they like this?”

He smirked. Someone had dimmed the lanterns, and the low light stained his eyes black. His hands seared my waist. The shadows cut his dimple deeper into his cheek.

“Yes and no. Lots of people, some music and dancing. But mostly it’s just an excuse for kids to screw around without fear of the Watchmen.”

“I’ve wondered about them.”

“Don’t. The clubs wouldn’t have been right for you,” he said. At the look on my face, he added, “That’s a compliment. Trust me.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Avan’s past made me intensely curious—and maybe a little unreasonably jealous—but no one in Ninurta was innocent, and Avan had turned out better than most.

When I’d first met him, I’d treated him brusquely because of my assumptions about him. But even after we became friends, I kept my distance. Not because I didn’t trust him, as he probably still assumed, but because I refused to let him sweep me into that category of people: those who’d slept with him and then spoke of him afterward with smug words and vulgar smiles. As far as I could tell, the gossip didn’t bother him.