I frown back. “Can I help you?”
Without replying, the head wriggles and stretches and suddenly the body it’s attached to comes tumbling out, catching itself with its hands on the hole’s rim before sliding swiftly and neatly to the ground.
It’s a boy.
A very short one.
I wrinkle my nose. And quite dirty by the smell of him. He’s wearing a suit that’s black and red like the Bron guards and soiled from soot and grease. Even though the clothes look about three sizes too big for his small frame, his dark skin and proud set of his shoulders suggest he’s used to wearing those colors.
A Bron stowaway?
“Are you her?”
I cross my arms and stare.
He narrows his gaze and pulls a knife from the back of his oversize pants. “I asked a question. Are you her?”
“Depends on who you’re referring to.”
“The Elemental. And don’t lie ’cuz I already know you’re her because of the—” He juts the blade toward my hair.
Very observant. I sniff and glare at his knife. “Are you here to stab me then?”
“Maybe.” He eyes me. “Maybe not.”
“Well, if it’s all the same, I’d prefer not. All that blood. And what would your parents think? Or have they lost you?”
“They did no such thing.” Fury flashes through his gaze and across his face. He lifts his chin. “I am responsible for myself.”
I try not to smirk. Or acknowledge the fact that, despite my weary mood, I might like this small person. “Yes, I can see that.”
I pick up the cup of water left by someone beside my bed during the night—probably a guard, hopefully a guard—and take off the lid to sip it as the ship shudders and rolls to the right. I take a seat on the cot and continue the bizarre stare-down with this boy who can be no older than eight. “Would you like a seat while you decide what it is you’ve spent the better quarter of an hour climbing through my air vent to do?”
He scowls. “I know what I came to do.”
“Right. Perhaps we can start with our names then before commencing with the knife poking. I’m Nym.”
He shifts his feet but says nothing.
I wait.
A moment longer and he utters a sigh. “Kel. And I just wanted to get a look at you.”
I take another sip of water. “Now you’ve seen me—”
“Is it true?”
“Pardon?”
“That you could’ve done more damage to our army but you stopped?”
I slowly replace the lid and set the cup down. “Who told you that?”
“That’s my business.” He needles his blade toward me in a smooth gesture that says he actually knows how to use the thing. “Now answer the question. Are you more powerful than you showed everyone at the Keep?”
Who in blazes is he and why does he care? I study him harder as he stands there holding his breath, waiting for my reply, because something about this boy seems familiar. Not in looks or size, but in spirit.
It takes another moment for the awareness to dawn that, oh hulls, he reminds me of Colin.
A simultaneous ache and warmth hits my chest, and I swear my heart nearly splits open over this boy whose expression is still puckered in arrogant demand.
“Yes,” I mutter. “And yes, I could’ve.”
“A lot more? Then why didn’t you?” His tone is insistent. Desperate.
“Just because you have power doesn’t mean you have the right to harm others with it. I did what I had to for defense, not damage.”
He nods and it’s so serious, so solemn-like, as if this is somehow the answer he was seeking, although I have no idea how that helps anything. “Are you coming to Bron to attack us?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why are you coming?”
“To be a delegate.” I eye the blade still pointed at me. “How long have you been on this ship?”
“Since the battle at the Keep.”
“You’ve been on here for a week? Hiding in the air vents?”
He pushes the toe of his soft boot into the carpet. “Only certain ones. And not all the time. There are a couple pantries and closets they don’t use often.”
“How’d you get to the battle in the first place?”
A shadow crosses his face. “That’s Bron’s business and not your concern.” Without warning, he sheathes his knife and deepens his scowl. “I have to go now. They’ll be flushing one of the cooling vents soon and I don’t want to get caught in it. But . . .” He glances to the door behind him, which groans as the airship shudders on a wind current. “I warn you not to tell anyone you’ve seen me. Or else.”
I put my hands up and try not to grin. Got it.
“They, uh . . . might not know I’m here.” He turns to jump up twice toward the vent, only to discover he isn’t tall enough to reach the hole’s edge with his fingers. He lunges for it a third time while I watch, arms folded across my chest, impressed at his incredible prowess that is, unfortunately, unmatched by his height.