Page 34 of Court of Talons
But only a moment.
Chin up, eyes cold, expression as empty as the winter’s sky.
“Take that back,” I growl. I reach for my sword and Caleb’s eyes light up with interest, the squire easily circling to my left as I haul out the long, slender blade.
“That was my first tip, you know,” he says, keeping a good distance between us, his gaze never leaving mine, his face now intent, more serious than I ever thought he could be. “I wasn’t about to make a thing of it, since you’d just saved my ass and all. But you didn’t draw your sword to fight Hantor, and any boy would’ve. Plus, you fought like you’d never been in a fight before. All defense, no offense. Only, no warrior son gets beaten up in the training yards. They’re always the ones punching, while the other kids defend, because no one wants to get whipped for harming the favored boy. You’re that favored boy, and you have been your whole life supposedly, but haven’tonceacted like it since I met you—not once.”
Panic rattles through me, sour and sick, but I can’t give into it. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you now.”
“You’re lucky I don’t run off and tell the entire tournament that its newest celebrated combatant is agirl,” Caleb shoots back, his tone sharp, almost angry, the threat in his words real and immediate to my ears. “Think about how much money would be in that little secret revealed, eh? Think about that.”
Another surge of fear swamps me.This is it. After losing Merritt, after bonding with an impossibly mighty Divh, after standing on a stage and committing to fight against the greatest warriors in the country, I’ll be undone by a boy. A boy I trusted and never should have. A boy I allowed to get too close.
But Caleb isn’t finished. “And even with all that, I probably wouldn’t have thought too hard about the sword and your abysmal fighting skills, but then your reactions at the pits—” he shakes his head. “Every single thing you cared about was wrong.So was everything you saw, things a warrior son wouldn’t evennotice. Certainly wouldn’t comment on, no way.”
“That boy,” I mutter, and opposite me, Caleb nods, his face flushing. When he speaks again, however, his voice sounds very different. Quieter. Almost rueful.
“That boy. The injustices. Me. Maybe you considered me a cripple when you stopped to check out my fight with Hantor. But you didn’t see me as a freak, something to laugh at and turn away from when things got ugly. You jumped in. You helped. And then…” He grimaces. “Then you let me help you. Asked for my help, even. Accepted it. You didn’t dismiss me as a broken tool, useful but only so much. You leaned on me without even thinking much about it. I’d maybe get that from a seasoned warrior, someone older, more comfortable in his own skin. But not a boy of seventeen, desperate to show off at the Tournament of Gold. That doesn’t happen. That shouldn’t happen. But with you, it did.”
I can’t help myself, I stop, this last revelation cutting so deep and true I can’t dispute it. In that moment I imagine Merritt, my beloved little brother, seeing Caleb for the first time. He wouldn’t have been cruel, I don’t think. He knew that terrible things sometimes happened to people. But he would’ve instinctively shied away from the squire, would’ve felt awkward every time the one-armed boy had approached. Whereas I…I know what it’s like to be the one in the shadows, hoping desperately no one noticed me—but wanting to be noticed all the same. And I can’t even imagine turning away someone’s assistance, no matter who offered it.
Caleb has bested me. My shoulders slump as we face off against each other, the reality of his discovery a crushing weight. The way of the warrior is death, Nazar has told me. And death can come as easily inside the coliseum as beneath it.
“So why are you still here?” I finally ask, my voice leaden. “Why aren’t you out there making all that money with this fantastic story, this secret so many people would pay real money to know?”
Caleb stares at me a long time after that, and his words, when they come, are quiet. Almost eerily quiet, floating to me like dust motes in the half-lit space. “Because you did stand on the edge of that pit where I was fighting with Hantor. And out of everyone there, all those men, all those boys, all those fighters who knew how to throw a punch and swing a sword…you were the one who jumped in to help me. You, who’d clearly never been in a fight in your life. You didn’t jerk away from me in horror or even surprise as I ran with you through the crowd to get you back to Nazar, you just held on to me and let me guide you.”
I smile ruefully. “Iwasnearly blind, if you’ll recall.”
“It doesn’t matter. You accepted my help then, and every moment after. Even and including making sure that ass-monger Ginn didn’t get his hands on you, letting me take you away. And what’s more, yeah. You do react to things you shouldn’t—and you especially make comments you shouldn’t—but the thing is…your eyes are still open. You saw injustices in those tournament pits that I’d long ago stopped seeing. Even after I lost my arm, I’m still blinded by my desperate need tobelong. I should never have stopped seeing those things. Things a true warrior worth his salt would care about.”
He pauses. “Merritt died in those mountains, didn’t he.”
His words are blunt, but they don’t hurt as much as I expect them to, more like a blow coming at me from a long way away. Once again, I see my brother leap, his laughter bright and full. Once more, I see the arrow pierce through him, shattering the sky.
“He did. I—his Divh bonded to me. I don’t know why or how. After that…”
Caleb nods, his expression solemn. He knows, I think. He understands. “After that, yeah. You’re a dead woman. Might as well fight for your house while you can.”
I wince, the squire’s words an eerie echo of Nazar’s. “I will bring honor to my house,” I say hollowly, glancing away. Even the shadows shrink back from me now, offering me no place to hide.
Silence fills the space between us, but Caleb doesn’t—or maybe can’t—remain still for long. And his voice is different when he speaks again. The bright and chattering voice of the Caleb who’d raced with me through the crowd, holding onto me as my eye had swollen shut.
“Hey,” he says, and when I meet his gaze, his grin is back as well. Awkward and lopsided, but no less firm than it’d been before we’d rushed into this darkened space. “Is your name really Talia?”
I hesitate, this admission the final failure. But I force the words out. “Yes. It’s Talia,” I say, the word almost foreign in my mouth.
“Talia.” He tests the word on the air, seeming to savor it, then shrugs. “Eh. I think for right now, I prefer Merritt. And Merritt, we’ve got alotof work to do, if you’re going to hold your own in the Tournament of Gold.”
I blink, taking a step back, and now Caleb’s smile splits his face wide. “That’s right. I’ve never missed a bet yet, and I’ve decided I’m keeping my money on you.” He points at my sword. “Put that away, though, and save us both the trouble. We don’t have that kind of time. You’re damned good with the stave, and your instincts aren’t completely hopeless, but the sword… Well, you better pray you never have to pull that thing for anything but show. We can work with the rest, though. You’ve got heart, and you’re idiot enough to rush in where no one else would. Sometimes that’s all you need to win, eh?”
“You—” Despite Caleb’s rush of enthusiasm, and the words that ring with such authenticity, I have to ask the question, have to know. “You’re not going to tell? There’s money in it, you said. A lot of money.”
“There’ssomuch money,” Caleb agrees, flinging his good arm wide. Then he winks at me, and I know he’s teasing—that he’d never seriously thought of betraying me, despite all my fears.
That said…he’s still one of the savviest opportunists I’ve ever met.
Caleb grins, as if he’s reading my thoughts. “But you know, if I place my bets right, there’s a lotmorein backing the scrawny warrior knight from the border, attended only by his old-as-dirt priest and squired by a one-armed boy. That’s a bet I can make some scratch on, I tell you plain.”