“Because you care about me,” he says scornfully.
“That would make me stupid, Reykin.”
“You care about what I think of you, and what I might do, and what might happen to me.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Am I? I don’t see you panicking around anyone else.”
“That’s because you’re not paying attention.”
“I couldn’t be more attentive.”
“How was I able to get away from you at the trial grounds, then, if you were so attentive?”
I sit up. His hand reaches out to stay me, but I’m beyond ready to end this conversation. “Do you know where I was,” he asks, “when you slipped away at the training grounds?”
I pause. “I take it you didn’t go to Salloway’s.”
“I went to see a different vendor.” He lifts his hand and gazes at his moniker. In a few seconds, Phoenix glides into the den with a very playful puppy trailing behind it. The tiny beast has a black nose, floppy ears, and white fur with black-and chestnut-colored spots. It leaps and bounds after the mechadome. Phoenix stops in front of us. Reykin stoops and scoops up the furry, wiggling puppy, whose tiny tail wags as he licks Reykin’s face and softly whines.
“Here.” Reykin places the adorable creature into my arms. The puppy immediately tries to shower my face with kisses. “He’s yours,” Reykin says gruffly. “I bought him for you before you did your disappearing act. I know secondborns aren’t allowed pets, but I’ll claim he’s mine.”
I’m unable to speak for a few moments. Every ounce of anger flows out of me. “You got me a puppy?” I lower the long-eared face-licker away from my chin.
“You said you wanted one.”
“When did I say that?” I ask breathlessly. I hold the incredibly soft fur baby to my chest and snuggle my cheek to the top of his head. The puppy begins chewing on my hair.
“You told me when the technician was fixing your ribs. Do you like him? He’s a beagle.”
“He’s mine?” I whisper with a tight voice. My throat suddenly hurts.
“Yes.” Reykin’s voice is soft. “I was hoping he’d help with your anxiety.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I lift my face and accept more kisses from the excited hound.
“What are you going to name him?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur, my eyes blurring with tears. “He’s perfect.”
A smile develops on Reykin’s lips, but only for an instant. Then it’s gone, and his stern, forbidding stare is back. It makes me want to see him smile again. “What about Cudgel,” Reykin asks, “since he’s beating me with his tail?”
“Rogue,” I murmur and rest against Reykin once more.
“Rogue.” Reykin reaches over and pets the little hellion. “Welcome to the family, little brother.”
The puppy puts its front paws on my heart, trying to climb up me. I wince as a sharp pain stabs through me.
“What’s wrong?” Reykin asks.
“Nothing,” I grunt, trying to shift Rogue in my arms so that he won’t stomp on my bruised chest again. My face twists in pain. Reykin takes Rogue from me and sets the rambunctious creature on the carpet. The tiny hound attacks Phoenix playfully.
Reykin reaches his hand out, trying to grasp the hem of my shirt. I block his arm with my forearm. He scowls and reaches out again, saying, “Let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
“Then let me see,” he replies, “or I’ll pin you down and look. Your choice.”
“Pfft, like you could,” I retort. He moves as if I’ve just thrown down a challenge. Leaning away, I thrust up my arms to block him, which aggravates my wounds. “Okay! I’ll show you, but only if you agree not to overreact.” His glare could melt ice. “Okay,” I relent, “so maybe you don’t have the stoic gene. Just try to remain calm.” He nods and stares at the hem of my shirt. “Is that an ‘okay’?” I ask.
“Roselle!”
I sigh heavily. Grasping the hem of my dirty white shirt, I lift it over my head, peeling it off. Above my bra, a dark contusion, shaped like an enormous ink drop, spiders across my skin to my collarbone. Another one covers my bicep.
“What did that?” Reykin reaches to touch me. Gently, he traces the raised welt.
“Fusionmag.” I watch as his long finger traces the wound.
“Fusionmag? How are you alive?” I’m not sure that he believes me.
“I have a really good tailor.”
His angry scowl returns. “What does that even mean?” he demands.
His fingers soothe my abraded flesh, causing goose bumps to break out. I shiver. “It means Clifton Salloway made me clothes with fabric that repels fusionmag and other energy pulses.” I sweep my hair over my shoulder and show him my back. “How bad is this one?”
Reykin sucks air between his teeth. “Who did this to you?”
“It’s not what they did to me. It’s what I did to them.”
“You went to speak to your brother!” he snarls. Reykin is so intuitive, it’s almost scary. I should keep in mind how similar we are. I slip my shirt back on and pull my hair from beneath the collar, letting it spill over my shoulders once more. I shift and face him.
“I went to speak to Gabriel, but it was a setup. Assassins were waiting for me. I think Othala sent them.” It’s not a lie. They were waiting for me, and it was a setup. The fact that I was still successful in my goal of kidnapping Gabriel and bringing him to the Sea Fortress doesn’t have to be mentioned. “The assassins are dead, though.”
“And your brother?” he asks.
“I wasn’t able to talk to him like I wanted.” Again, not exactly a lie, just not the truth.
“Of all the stupid, irresponsible—”
“Don’t tell me that if you found Ransom, you wouldn’t try to speak to him.”
Reykin covers his face with his hands and scrubs it in exasperation. “Uhh,” he groans, “you know that’s not the same thing! My brother isn’t trying to kill me.”
“Why are you so angry? I’m here—I didn’t die.”
Reykin removes his hands. “There are so many reasons why I’m livid right now, I can’t even name them all. And you’re not fine. You’re beaten up. Maybe I’m tired of seeing you hurt.”
“You leave bruises on me all the time,” I point out. It’s true, but it’s unfair, and I know it.
“That’s different! That’s training! I’m making sure you never lose your edge—that anyone who comes at you, you can destroy.”
“I know,” I murmur. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just exhausted.” The puppy attacks my toes, trying to pull off my damp sock. I reach down and lift him in my arms. “Thank you for Rogue.” I lean back against Reykin’s chest, petting my beagle’s floppy ears.
After a few minutes, Reykin’s anger ebbs. His chest softens beneath my cheek. The next thing I know, I’m being lowered into my bed. I must have fallen asleep. The blanket settles over me, and Reykin begins to back away.
“Reykin, are you leaving?”
“No. Go to sleep.”
Bombardment by puppy kisses might be the sweetest way to wake up. I’ve only spent a few days with Rogue, but I’m hopelessly in love with him. I help him off my bed and hurry to change so that I can take him out to the garden. Outside, my Halo stingers wander with Rogue and me around the topiary bushes and shade trees. The secondborn Suns stop supervising the pruning drones to kneel and greet my curious puppy. Having been a pariah most of my life, I appreciate the sudden chattiness and ease with which the secondborn gardeners speak to me. I feel different, like maybe there’s more to life than horror, violence, and lethal power struggles. I think what I’m feeling is hope. It scares me.