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

•capítulo diecisiete // chapter seventeen•

The boy from that night at the villa seemed determined to irritate Malina.

"Teach me," he prompted her for the ninth time that day- not that she was counting. "There has to be a way to learn."

The afternoon light was beginning to wane. The sun was descending beneath the walls of Muros, sky orange and red and a curious sort of pink. Malina made her way through the streets, the boy at her heels. People were closing up shop for the night, heading home until morning.

"You speak Tondan, don't you?"

"I'm speaking Tondan now, aren't I?"

She scoffed. "Then you'll understand me when I say to shut up and stop asking me to teach you. You're not the right kind of person. You have the most terrible accent, by the way."

"But-"

"And for the love of the gods, stop following me! If you ruin this job for me, I swear I'll drown you."

He didn't reply. Malina huffed.

"Can you even understand me?" she asked, turning on her heel to observe him.

The boy blinked, amber eyes nearly the same shade as the sunset. "Speak slower."

She let out a magnificent groan and began to walk away again.

"What kind of job do you have?" he called after her. When she didn't respond, he called out for her again. "Girl! Head of fire! Answer me!"

"My name is not girl," she hissed back. "Nor is it head of fire. Gods. How did you even find your way into this city in the first place without a work permit? Vesennans aren't allowed to live here."

"I am not a Vesennan," the boy told her fiercely. So fiercely, in fact, that Malina's steps faltered. "I am from Altan."

Malina tried to call to memory her knowledge of the Vesennan continent. It took her back to her days with uncle Paolo in the rundown temple she grew up in. He would point at a map with all the names obscured and ask her to name the country, the city, the river, the sea. She'd been good at it once, but she was rusty now. Besides, thinking of her uncle always brought up unwanted feels of guilt, and so more often than not she chose to forego thinking of him at all.

"Right. The land above the Red Wastes. I know of it." She glanced back at him warily. "That explains those braids." She pointed at the strands of his hair that he had so deftly woven together, envious of how the strands shone. She could never achieve such luster with her own hair. "Take them out before someone thinks you're a savage."

He glared. "I am not a savage."

"Try telling everyone else that," she muttered, gesturing at the passersby. They snickered and laughed behind their hands at the boy's odd clothing and long hair. "The least you could do would be to cut that mop off."

"Altanese men do not cut their hair-"

"You're not a man. You're a boy. Be reasonable and leave me alone."

The boy caught up to her before she could turn away again, putting a pale hand near her shoulder. Malina jerked away before he could touch her.

"Listen," he said, bending to look her in the eye. "I need your help."

His tone caught her off guard. "What could you possibly need my help with?" He'd pinned her down with no effort last night. In her mind, that made him nearly invincible.

He leaned in, beads in his braided hair clicking together with his movement. "Revenge."

Malina blinked. Rolled her eyes, though he'd only be able to see the one not covered up with an eyepatch. Walked on.