Gates of Thread and Stone(66)

Before I lost my nerve, I pointed to his chest and asked, “What does that mean?”

He looked down, his fingers tracing one crooked branch. The corner of his mouth twitched up. “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me anyway,” I said, repeating his earlier words.

His hand dropped to his side. “I got the trunk and the branches done when I moved out of the shop. The tree had one leaf. Kind of like . . . the start of something new.” He rubbed his neck and shifted so that he was turned away from me. He actually seemed embarrassed. “Something good, I mean. I figured I would add more leaves as . . . well, as things changed.”

I knew it had been important for him to get his own place and to get some distance from his dad, but I hadn’t understood how much it meant to him to separate himself from the life he’d known beneath his dad’s roof. Knowing this now made me wish I’d done more than kick that man’s decrepit ass.

“That’s not stupid,” I said. Avan looked back at me.

Now I was embarrassed. I busied myself poking through a book at the top of a pile. I had to know, and since we were both already feeling awkward . . .

“What was that about just now?” I asked. “We’re not supposed to mingle with other teams, remember?”

“I guess you haven’t noticed everyone breaking that particular rule,” Avan said, his words laced with amusement. I looked up, and, sure enough, he was flashing me his dimple. “I was asking around. We were on a tight deadline to find Reev.”

“That was about Reev?” I remembered the way the boy leaned in, as if expecting Avan to reciprocate.

Avan pushed off the door frame and crossed the room. “He took my friendliness to mean something else. It tends to happen.”


“I’ve noticed.” I propped my hip against the table, watching him approach, his dark eyes searching. His lashes were longer than mine. I drew an unsteady breath. The weight of unspoken things settled into the space between us, space I wanted so badly to close that my body ached with it.

His throat moved as he swallowed. “Can I be honest with you, Kai?”

“Aren’t you always?”

He opened his mouth but closed it again.

I searched for words to replace his silence. “Did . . . did you mind it? His misinterpretation.”

I winced at my clumsiness. Avan’s smile twisted into a smirk. I brushed my fingers against his lips, wanting to wipe away that look.

He caught my hand and held it. His breath warmed my fingertips. I shivered.

“No,” he whispered against my skin.

Then he let go, and I pulled my hand to my chest, fingers curling into my palm as if I could carry with me the feel of his mouth and breath.

“Because he didn’t mean anything by it,” Avan continued. “It was sweet.”

His eyes grew distant. I wondered if he was recalling people who hadn’t been so sweet. I touched his cheek to bring him back.

And what about me?

“Do you . . . um . . . prefer . . .” I shouldn’t ask. It was none of my business.

“I don’t have a preference,” he said. “It’s not always about gender.”

I nodded, focusing on a white scar along Avan’s collarbone. There was a slight bump there, as if it had been broken once and hadn’t healed quite right.

“Can I ask you something else? Since we’re being honest with each other.”

Avan’s expression turned wary. “Okay.”

“When were you going to tell me about what you are?”

“I’m a lot of things,” he said. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You’re a descendant,” I said, ignoring his teasing.

His eyes widened just a fraction. But then his lips curved—beautiful, charming, and completely fake.

“You’re mahjo. I know you’ve realized it.”

He looked down, his lashes casting shadows beneath his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said.

He stepped away and sat at the edge of his bed.

“Of course you do. But there’s something I don’t understand. Why—” The image of a young, bruised Avan formed in my mind. Why didn’t you heal then the way you do now?

I couldn’t ask it, even though he probably knew what I was thinking. I would have to wait until he shared it with me.

I nervously tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Never mind.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “People like to ask questions. I’m usually better at deflecting them. It’s just, with you . . . I feel like I have to be more guarded.”

“Why?”

He spoke carefully, measuring each word. “Because I’m not used to anyone having the power to hurt me anymore.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He smiled that crooked smile. “It’s not always a bad hurt.”

Oh.

We’d been skirting the issue for a while now, but I didn’t know how to deal with the feelings Avan stirred in me. I wasn’t even sure if they were real or just my imagination twisting his words and gestures to mean what I wanted. All I knew was that I sure as drek couldn’t do this while Reev was still a slave to Ninu.

But after—after Irra helped Reev, we’d be free of Ninurta forever. I could see the same conclusion in Avan’s eyes. The promise of an end we both wanted.