The Young Gods (The Young Gods #1) [NEW DRAFT]

•capítulo doce // chapter twelve•

The Dividir river winds a lazy path under the bridge. Malina leans up against the stone edge, watching the water curl and flow in eddies by the shore, washing up leaves and sticks. The hot summer air presses in on her, hot and muggy but strangely divine. If she closes her eye, she can picture Muros and its stone walls, the temples scented by incense and myrrh, the ladies hidden behind their lace fans. Her chest aches with longing.

"Malina?"

She looks over at the end of the bridge. Darl shifts from foot to foot, staring at her with his big brown eyes. Behind him, the city of Migos exhales steam and smoke, the collective cloud of noise slowly drowning itself out as the sun sets.

She gives him a lazy wave. "Hi," she says simply.

"Can I join you?"

"Of course."

Darl crosses the bridge, ambling over to her with his hands clasped behind his reedy back. He stands a respectable distance from her, taking to looking out over the river too.

"She's feeling better," he informs her. "Aizel."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"You did another miracle, right?" He flashes her a grin, holding out his hands, curving his fingers. "Did you force them to let you in?"

Malina rests her chin atop her fist. "I might've."

His grin grows. "Wicked! I bet the Sentinels fell to pieces. No one's tough enough to stand against you."

Malina laughs at him. "That's a big claim."

"I guess I just wanted to thank you again. You know, for the medicine and the place to stay. And for saving my life," he adds. "No one really cares about us. Even the mestizos that come from Tondo to learn at the colleges here barely spare us a passing glance."

"That's the way of the world," Malina says.

Darl fidgets with the hem of his shirt. His eyes flit over the wide expanse of the river, going from bank to bank. Malina isn't sure what he's more interested in: the commercial district to the left, in the direction where he came, or the factories to their right, spewing smog into the junio air.

"Was it your mother or your father that was Tondan?" he asks her timidly.

"My mother," she responds.

"Where are your parents now?"

"Dead."

He flushes. "I'm sorry."

A carriage passes behind them on the bridge, horse hooves clopping away into the gathering dusk.

"Don't be," she tells him finally. "I never knew them."

"Do you have any family then?" He watches her. "All I have is Aizel."

"I have an uncle. You might meet him someday." She's still unsure why he stayed corporeal last night. Why didn't he emerge from the shadows? He hasn't appeared at the residence in Valpara, though Malina's searched for his telltale skeins of shadows. "Two, actually. Both are here in Edeiros. My mother's brother and my father's."

"Have you met them?"

"My mother's brother raised me. Sometimes I wish I'd never met him at all. He's such a killjoy most of the time."