After the Walls

Chapter 17

"Why don't we go see him in the palace tomorrow night together?"

His lip tugs, and he nods. "I will put on my brave face. Ask him about his mother, perhaps."

A musician begins to play the fiddle in the front corner, sending his tunes around us. "I think she is the only person who has ever truly cared for him," I say.

He runs a hand through his hair. "I'd be willing to care if he shows a few inches of humanity. So far, he's a psychopath."

"I'm not so sure about that one." I press my lips together.

"Let's find out shall we?" He holds out his pitcher and we clank them together.

--

"So, you wish to share a drink?" Edward says as he opens the door to his pallor, wearing an odious smirk.

"Only if you're willing to provide the beverage," Ruben says, shouldering his way into the room. I bite back the laugh as I follow him in.

Several candles dot the room and the fire crackles and spits in the hearth. He's kept the double doors to the balcony open, anyway, keeping the drapes pulled back so we can marvel at the starlight above.

"Will good ol' bourbon satisfy you, brother?" Edward grabs a bottle of the dark liquor from his shelf and waltzes back to the couches before the fireplace.

"Our father reeked of bourbon," Ruben says, flopping onto the couch. "What better way to bond with my brother than with the very thing that was our father's crutch?"

"Was he an alcoholic?" Edward tilts his head to the side as he pours the bourbon into three tumblers.

Ruben presses his lip together, flicking a wary glance my way. "He was certainly a miserable drunk. But only in the quiet recesses of his library."

Edward passes us the glasses and sits down on the opposite couch. "A miserable drunk," he says, considering the phrase as he sips his drink. "You did not like him, did you?"

"We had a complicated relationship," Ruben says, swirling his bourbon.

"How?"

Ruben clicks his tongue and a muscle feathers in his jaw. "He starved me whenever he needed to punish me. Not to mention, he was cruel, selfish, and a coward."

"Do you ever wish you'd met him?" I ask, leaning forward.

He thinks about this for a moment. "Sometimes. But I fear he would have treated me the same way he did Ruben. Especially since I was the product of a banished woman."

"You must miss your mother," I say.

Tears spring to his reddened eyes, and he blinks them away. His breath hitches. "She was the only person who loved me. I think she'd be relieved to hear I finally have a home and... family. Even if it's just by blood and no bond yet." He nods at Ruben who shifts in his seat, clearly resisting the urge to leap off the balcony.

"He banished my mother also," Ruben says, reaching forward to place his glass on the marble coffee table before us.

The fire roars for a beat as the wood pile collapses, sending the embers flying into the room. They float like fireflies in the air.

"Then I am surprised he did not banish you, Elle," Edward says. "It seems he had a habit of exiling powerful ladies."

I bite the inside of my cheek. "He sure wanted to."

Ruben stiffens at this. "I'm forever relieved he is no longer here."

"You killed him, didn't you?" Edward says, his jaw tight as the firelight flecks his face.

Ruben grunts. "Yes. With an arrow."

"I can't imagine such a thing. Nor can I imagine growing up with such an abusive parent." He rubs the scar on his cheek. "I didn't have anyone as a child other than my mother. But she made it clear she loved me, right until the end, when she got sick."

Ruben swallows bodily, gaze pinned on his brother as if he's looking into the mirror, noticing something about himself for the first time. I suppose, in many ways, Ruben and Edward do mirror one another.

As Ruben and I stagger out of the room two hours later, blind from intoxication, Edward stumbles after us, and props open the door. "Shall we meet again tomorrow?" he says.

Ruben flicks his gaze at him up and down. "How about in the Convex Sector?"

"Your new stomping ground."

--

That night, I dream of Theseus, the man from the forest beyond the walls who walked into the burning train. I hear his scream and the sizzle of his flesh as it melted. I see the crazed glint in his eyes. The smell of his skin burning and the feeling of bile burning the back of my throat. His screams. His screams. I awake, throwing the blanket off as sweat drips down my temple and I gasp for air. But then my breath and heart seize. For I swear, a shadowy figure looms in the corner of the room. I scramble to ignite my bedside candle. But when I do, there is nothing in the room other than my thundering pulse and the distant sound of the sirens singing, as if they are calling my name.