"Are you trying to kill me?"
Jordan glared up at his tutor from the floor. Every part of him ached. Even for someone with no experience in combat this lesson was going horribly.
"Are you trying to get killed?" Yddris countered, sounding unconcerned. "You're going to have to put more work in than that, boy, I feel like I'm being punched by a kitten."
"Just because you're built like a fucking rock," Jordan muttered, wounded. His knuckles were bruised from how hard he'd been trying, but Yddris was solid muscle and moved like he was made of air; even hitting the target was a punishment in itself. Jordan's coordination had never been terrible, but for all that he was still flailing around the attic with two left feet, missing punches left and right.
"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Yddris replied. "Get up. One more round and then I'll take you to see your sister."
Jordan paused, halfway to his feet. "What?"
"Oh." Yddris's tone was infuriatingly nonchalant. "Did I not mention that yet? I arranged it with Harkenn yesterday."
Jordan, torn between gratitude and anger, just blinked. He hadn't seen Grace since the incident where he'd lost his temper in the castle kitchen. He was as apprehensive as he was excited.
"You have better control now than you did," Yddris said, as if reading his thoughts, "That won't happen again."
"You sound more certain than I feel," Jordan said, wiping dust from his trousers and straightening up. As if in response, he felt a frisson of magic pass over his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He touched it, and then self-consciously ran a hand through his hair. That had changed since he'd last seen his sister, as well. Nika had found him a mirror to shave with that morning, before which everyone had failed to mention that his hair had turned almost completely white without his noticing. He barely recognised himself anymore; his time in Nictaven had left dark circles under his eyes and a pallor that came with not seeing the sun for days on end. He didn't think he would ever get used to the acid green glow of his eyes, or the faint markings that had crept up his neck.
Yddris snapped his fingers, and Jordan jumped.
"One more round," he repeated. Grateful for the distraction, Jordan nodded, bracing his feet apart in the centre of the room. He was wearing only his leggings and boots after an hour or two of training, but Yddris was in all his usual attire and still managed to make it look easy.
"I'll give you a few pointers this time," Yddris said, beginning to circle. "You keep going for anything you can reach. That strategy might work for you sometimes, but you won't get far relying on it. You need to be strategic, especially if your opponent is bigger or stronger than you are."
"And if they have a knife or something?"
"You have a knife, too. This is basic self-defence. For now your only policy concerning knives is to stab and run. If they have the knife, cut the stab part and just run. Do whatever you have to for a quick getaway. Now, weak points," he pointed, "eyes, nose, and throat up here. Groin and knees down there. Got it? Easy to reach, quick to distract."
"What about the stomach?"
"Not a good idea if you don't have the size or strength advantage."
"Right." Jordan nodded. "I got it. All the bits of you I can't get clear on because of that cloak, great."
Yddris laughed. "I'm sure you can make an educated guess."
He lunged. Jordan, taken unawares, cried out and dodged to one side, only to turn and find Yddris behind him. His arm came up a fraction of a second before Yddris's fist connected with his face, so that his own knuckles knocked him in the cheek as he blocked it, muscles straining to contain some of the force. His other arm arced out, aiming for Yddris's neck. His tutor darted back at the last second.
"Good," he said. "Again."
Jordan moved first this time. He ran forward and dodged sideways, his foot connecting with Yddris's knee. The next minute he was back on the floor.
"Ow," he huffed. He rolled over and picked a splinter out of his chest. "What did I do that time?"
"Got stuck," Yddris said. "You went for the inside of my knee but didn't have the strength to pull me off balance, so I had time to grab your foot instead." He held out a hand to help Jordan up. "With knees you want to unbalance your opponent. A good hard kick to the side will do it, just don't let them grab you."
"Kiel's teeth, he looks like you launched him through a window."
Nika climbed through the trapdoor, bringing with him both the smell of food and Ren, as a blur of dark fur that shot through the trapdoor. Jordan's stomach growled as he laid eyes on the two grease-stained parcels in the Unspoken's hand.
"I feel like I got launched through a window," he said. "Is that food for us?"
"I thought you might want something more substantial after training," Nika said, handing one of the parcels to him and the other to Yddris. "I think you've been at it long enough, don't you?"
"Sure," Jordan said, already sitting on the ground with his sandwich unwrapped. Ren made her way over to him, sniffing tentatively. He fed her a slice of meat from inside and took a big bite himself.
Nika chuckled. "Hungry?"
"Starving. Is this one of Vek's?"
"It is. Good guess."
Jordan nodded. It tasted just as good as the first time he'd had it. Nika laughed, and then turned to Yddris.
"When are you taking him to the castle?"
"When he's ready to go. In other words, when he's not looking like I hooked him out of a gutter on my way up there."
Jordan snorted, swallowing his mouthful. "Not my fault your attic's filthy."
"Watch it, boy."
"I'm just saying," Jordan said, with a shrug and his head down so that his tutor didn't see him grinning, "Could do worse than a bit of dusting, that's all."
"I'll bear it in mind," Yddris growled, breaking into his own food. Jordan got the distinct impression he was being scowled at.
After eating he rinsed in the courtyard –a few days before, he had found that to his chagrin, what passed for a bath in Yddris's house was a cold puddle in a tin tub and some grainy soap – and reluctantly pulled his shirt and cloak back on. By the time he'd done up all the clasps and fought with his hair and cowl for the right to see two feet ahead of him – Ren had immediately taken up residence inside his hood and seemed to have fallen asleep – Yddris was waiting by the front door.. There was no evidence that the Unspoken had had any repercussions from the morning of training, whereas Jordan was already stiff and walked like he had poles up his trouser legs.
It was his turn to scowl.
"Be back in time for dinner," Nika said, folding his arms and coming to the door as they stepped out. "Hap and Koen are bringing back sausage and eggs."
"Where are they?" Jordan asked. The two other Unspoken had been gone by the time he woke up that morning, even though Yddris had kicked him awake just past dawn.
"Doing runework on one of the big estates," Nika said, "I forget which one. But estates always part-pay in food."
"We will be." A hand hooked itself onto the back of Jordan's cloak and began pulling him away, ignoring his protests and the indignant squeak from its second resident. "Get a move on, boy."
Jordan shook Yddris's hand off him and drew alongside, reaching into his hood to unhook Ren's claws from the top of his jerkin. His tutor was smoking already; Jordan had guessed from the conspicuous absence of the pipe when they were indoors that Nika might have had something to say about it. He glanced back over his shoulder, but the other Unspoken had already disappeared inside.
He glanced sidelong at Yddris, who had fallen quiet. Ever since they had returned from that day in the ruins, he hadn't spoken as much to Jordan, and when he did it was for the purposes of teaching. The rest of the time, he couldn't shake the feeling that Yddris avoided casual conversation or being left together in the same room if they weren't training. If Nika stepped out, Yddris always seemed to need the toilet very suddenly or disappear upstairs for a smoke on the quiet. Jordan wasn't sure whether it was Yddris making it awkward or him, since he hadn't been able to bring himself to say anything about it either. Every time, the words felt wrong in his mouth and the moment passed. When it disturbed his sleep with vivid dreams, as it did frequently, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to.
"I don't know how much time Harkenn is planning to give you," Yddris said. Jordan got the feeling it was just to break the silence.
"Probably not much," he said, playing along. "I'll get all the important stuff out first."
Yddris glanced at him. There was another pause.
"Laurel's been asking to see you again."
Jordan's face heated. He didn't pull his eyes from the cobbles in case he met his tutor's gaze. He narrowly missed walking into a lamp post. "How do you know that?"
"Because she's asked often enough for Kedrick to mention it to me," Yddris grunted. "I think she's taken a shine to you, boy."
Jordan swallowed, keeping his eyes and thoughts resolutely on the street in front of him. Soon enough, the castle loomed over them, and he was grateful for the short walk. If Yddris was going to resort to dropping heavy hints about awkward things just to make conversation then Jordan would have taken another portal over five minutes more of it. His thoughts flashed to Laurel and away, and his cheeks warmed anew. For the first time ever he was grateful that he was wearing a deep hood.
The streets had been quiet, but in the castle courtyard it was a flurry of activity. Jordan didn't remember there being so many guards on the watchtower last time he had come through here, and there were small squads of soldiers in the courtyard, too, running drills. Servants rushed back and forth with logs, baskets, food and laundry.
"Stocking up," Yddris said, as Jordan faltered in surprise. "The dark season's closing in fast and it's promising to be a nasty one this year."
"Well, shit," Jordan muttered. "Nice welcome."
Yddris chuckled. "You timed your arrival fantastically, I have to admit."
They passed through the bustle. Though there were so many people about, neither Jordan or Yddris were held up; there were no accidental collisions or places where they had to stop. The castle staff moved around them like a current, seeming to pretend like they weren't there.
The foyer was no quieter. The whole place seethed with more staff than Jordan had ever seen. On his previous visits the corridors had been near-deserted save for a few guards, and he'd only seen other household servants when he'd been down to the kitchen to see Grace.
Even from a distance he recognised the lord's butler, Brillan. He was directing operations from the middle of the room, but came straight over as they crossed the threshold.
"She's in one of the guest rooms for privacy," the butler said without preamble. "The lord would like to see you, Yddris. I'll take the boy."
A spark of alarm went through Jordan at the thought that Yddris wasn't going to be with him. As if sensing it, Yddris said, "You'll be fine, boy. Deep breaths if things are getting the better of you. I'll come and get you straight away if anything does happen."
"This way, sir." Brillan's grip on his shoulder brooked no argument. Though Jordan thought he might be able to get out from under the butler's hand if he wanted to, he allowed himself to be led away, focusing on his excitement at seeing Grace again. It felt like months had gone by since he'd seen her last, though in reality it had been a handful of weeks; he wondered if that time had felt as long for her as it had for him. In a brief moment of spite he thought perhaps it hadn't, what with her being holed up in a castle and not having spontaneously exploded with magic at any point. Then he remembered the lashes on her back, the look of misery on her face that day in the kitchen, and all at once felt ashamed of himself for the idea.
Brillan led him along a corridor that ran adjacent to the lord's quarters, and Jordan was reluctantly relieved at how close Yddris would be, after all. It was quiet here, at least, and the polished doors were all closed except one, the stone walls decorated with gently glowing lanterns and portraits of people Jordan didn't know. Finally the butler let go of him, indicating the open door, and without another word turned on his heel and left.
The guest room was small. A tapestry took up one wall, and a four-poster bed indicated that it was intended for single guests. There was a soft rug on the flagstones and the buttery glow of candles gave it a warm, cosy feeling. Despite it, Grace was sat at the breakfast table in the corner as if she was waiting for an axe to fall, her spine ramrod-straight and hands clasped tightly in her lap. Jordan hesitated in the doorway. She hadn't noticed him arrive, her gaze fixed on the tapestry.
He cleared his throat. His sister whipped round, startled, and then flew out of the chair and across the room towards him. He just barely caught her, his muscles still weak and aching from that morning's training. His arm screamed protests as he caught his balance on the doorframe, but he barely registered the pain. Ren wriggled her displeasure inside his hood, but he ignored that, too.
"I missed you," he said.
"I missed you too," Grace said, muffled against his shoulder. "You haven't been to see me in ages."
"I wanted to," he said. "Things got a bit crazy."
She pulled back. Her eyes were wet, but she was scowling. "Are you going to take that hood down or what?"
She shuffled past him and closed the door. Jordan moved further into the room, hesitating a moment before pulling his hood down. He heard a muffled gasp behind him and sighed. "Yeah, I know. I only saw it this morning, too. This is Ren, by the way." He lifted down the shadow runner and tucked her into the crook of his arm.
"Jordan," Grace whispered, approaching and tentatively stroking the animal's head. "Jordan, she's so cute. What is she?"
"A shadow runner," he said, "which means about as much to me as it does to you. Think of a cat crossed with a dog, crossed with a squirrel but make it look like a fox and you basically have a shadow runner."
Grace was barely listening. "Can I hold her? Please."
"Sure." Ren chirruped as she was handed over, but raised no protests. She seemed as content to nap in his sister's lap as she had in his hood.
Jordan took the other seat at the breakfast table and plastered on a smile as Grace finally tore her gaze from Ren. "What about you? Are you alright? Harkenn hasn't..."
"No," she interrupted. "He hasn't had anything to do with me since."
"Good." Jordan nodded, fighting a scowl. "Cuz if he had this would be a different conversation."
To his surprise, Grace laughed. "Like you'd have the guts to go and say something."
He grinned. "I might."
"Sure." She leaned over the table and pulled down the neck of his cloak before he could stop her. He stiffened. "Christ, Joe."
"I know." He gently plucked her fingers from his clothes and squeezed her hand. "I know it's bad." He paused, noticing how tired she looked. "You promise me he hasn't touched you since? In any way?"
He hadn't intended to ask, but Arlen's face flashed into his mind and the words were out before he could stop them. But he had to know. If anything else, he needed to know if Arlen was likely to be lying about everything.
Grace's eyes narrowed. "I said he hadn't, didn't I? Why? What's wrong?"
"I've just," he mumbled, suddenly embarrassed, "heard some things. About him."
"Well if he is some kind of sexual deviant I've not been made aware of it," Grace replied tartly, "and if I had I wouldn't be this calm, would I?"
"No, I guess not. But... Grace, we need to find a way home. And I really don't like that you're here. Even if he's not doing anything, he just...scares me."
Grace fiddled with a corner of her apron. "There isn't a way home, Joe. They told us that already."
"And you're just giving up and believing it?"
"No!" she snapped. "I'm not giving up, I'm making do. When I can read Nictavian I'll scour the library. I really don't think anyone's got any reason to lie to us about it, though."
"I didn't say they lied, maybe they just don't know...."
"And if they don't know, how will we ever find out?"
They glared at each other across the table. Jordan was the first to break it; he hadn't wanted to make this into an argument. At the same time, he couldn't understand Grace's reaction; he had thought she would jump on the idea – at the very least not argue like they'd been trying to get out for years.
He felt his magic rise to the surface. He couldn't tell if its withdrawal was due to his efforts or Yddris's, but as he rubbed the last of the static from his arms he said, "And this?" He reached up and undid the clasps of his cloak, unbuttoned his jerkin and pulled his shirt wide to show the mass of marks and bruises littering his chest. "Just sit back and let this happen? When I go out, people treat me like I'm invisible at best and the shit on their shoe at worst. The other day, I took a child out of the ruins of a house where his family had been killed or left for dead, and a demon had eaten his eyes. And you expect me not to try and get home before it gets worse?"
He re-buttoned his jerkin, ashamed of the horror on his sister's face and the fact that he'd made her cry – again. It seemed like it was all he did well these days.
"I didn't say we wouldn't," she murmured. Though he had done all his clothes back up again, her eyes lingered on his chest. "I know we need to at least look. I just... I think we should manage our expectations, that's all." She faltered. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger. "Even if we don't get home, I do want to get out of the Reach someday." Another hesitation. "With Nova."
"With Nova?" Jordan repeated. Misgivings stirred in his gut. "Grace, what've you done?"
"Nothing to be ashamed of," she said, staring him out.
"Yddris warned you not to get too involved with her," Jordan said. "Remember? Jesus, Grace, that's the lord's slave."
"I'm not sure I trust Yddris's judgement while he's busy trying to traumatise you," Grace snapped. "Surely he could've eased you into it."
"And you've only known Nova for a few weeks," Jordan argued. "Hardly grounds for eloping with a slave belonging to the most powerful man in Nictaven. If you got caught who knows what would happen? And in this case I trust Yddris's judgement a damn sight more than someone who hasn't been outside this bloody castle yet! Maybe he could've held off on the nightmare-inducing shit for a while, but at least I have an idea of how dangerous this is."
"Who mentioned eloping? We're not getting married, Jordan. You think she deserves how she's treated, just because it's dangerous to try and get her out? She's miserable here. He treats her like something you can just throw away."
"Okay." Jordan held his hands up for peace. "Okay. Let's just assume we both have a point on both arguments. I don't want to fight, I hardly ever see you."
He knew the look on her face; the look of an argument left half-finished but set aside for another day. Ever since he could remember his sister had been stubborn; once she got something into her head that she wanted, it was a nightmare to try and talk her out of it. And it wasn't that he thought Nova's situation was right, either. He just wanted to get them both home alive, and there was something about the Angel that unnerved him and that he could never put a finger on. He got the impression that she wasn't nearly as young as she looked, and that she knew more about people than she ever let on. Yddris hadn't warned them that trying to break her out was dangerous; he had warned against the Angel herself and had never expanded on why.
He glanced at Grace's face, set in hard lines and turned downwards.
"You've fallen for her, haven't you?"
Grace nodded. Slowly, she shuffled her chair round and laid her head on his shoulder. "She just seems so lonely."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tried to ignore the chill coming from the rift he sensed opening between them; a distance he was already praying would never get bigger.
Someday he might not be able to cross it again.