This was getting weirder and weirder and not in a good way.
Audrey perched on top of a heap of blankets. “You know, you really don’t have to call me ‘my lady.’ I’m just an Edger.”
George gave her a small smile that lit his angelic face. “I’m just an Edger, too.”
“But I thought Kaldar said you were a blueblood?” That wasn’t exactly what Kaldar had said, but fishing for more information never hurt.
“Our sister married a blueblood. We’re just Edgers. People in the Weird remind us of where we come from quite often. In case we forget.”
Ouch. They must’ve had a bad time of it. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” George told her. “We’re well taken care of. We go to a very good school, we have a large allowance, and Rose, our sister, and her husband love us very much. Someone would dislike us because of all that one way or another. The Edge is a convenient excuse.”
Audrey sat next to him on a quilt. “If you’re so well taken care of, why did the two of you stow away in Kaldar’s cabin?”
“Because of Jack. The Weird has problems with changelings.” George smoothed the sleeping bag in place. “Jack is difficult. He cares about other people, and he’s kind, but he doesn’t always get how people think. And he’s very violent, which scares people. In Adrianglia, changelings like him are sent off to a military school. It’s a very bad place. Jack is in a lot of trouble right now since he almost killed someone, and he thinks that Rose and Declan—that’s her husband—are getting ready to ship him off. He thinks that Declan’s best friend, who is a changeling, can convince them otherwise, but he’s gone on a trip. We’re buying time until he returns.”
She caught the faint hint of disapproval in his tone. “So that’s what Jack thinks. What do you think?”
George grimaced. “Jack is spoiled. Things are hard for him, but he isn’t the only one who doesn’t have it easy. He gets away with crazy things because he’s a changeling and he’s different. Jack could behave better, but he stopped trying. He decided that he’s worthless and that nothing he could do would make any difference.”
George rose and reached for a large cooler sitting by the wyvern. The muscles on his arms bulged. He strained. Audrey got up and took the other handle of the cooler, looking straight ahead without meeting his eyes. No need to make the boy self-conscious.
The weight of the cooler nearly toppled her over. The stupid thing was huge and likely full of ice. Eighty pounds at least. They dragged it over to the patch of clear grass.
George knelt by the cooler, and she sat in the grass across from him. Neither of them mentioned dragging the cooler, as if it hadn’t happened.
“When we were little, Rose worked a really crappy job,” George said. “It made her bone-tired, but she did it because she wanted us to have a better life. You asked me what I thought. I think Rose would work herself into the ground just so she wouldn’t fail me and Jack. My brother misinterprets things. I don’t know what he heard, but I doubt he’s getting sent off. My sister loves him too much, and Declan never came across a problem he didn’t attack straight on. He wouldn’t palm Jack off on someone else. It would mean giving up.”
Talking to George was almost like talking to an older wise adult. At fourteen, she supposed he was almost an adult by some standards, but still, his maturity was startling. Was there a fourteen-year-old boy somewhere in there, hiding behind all of that logic?
“I get why Jack ran away, but why did you?”
George popped the cooler open. “Because he needs someone to look after him. We barely know Kaldar, and Gaston and Jack don’t care for each other.”
She grinned. “You don’t say.”
“Jack baits him all the time until Gaston loses his patience and hits him, and then it’s on.” George rubbed the back of his head. “Gaston hits very hard.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Yes. I don’t take it personally. We are a pain in his . . . head. I came because without me, my brother would do something rash and stupid. Wouldn’t you do the same for your brother?”
Audrey shook her head. “No.”
“Why?” George reached into the cooler and pulled out a big bird. It was black and very dead.
Audrey stared at it. Another bird joined the first one on the grass, then another. What in the world? “It’s a long story, and you probably don’t want to hear it. What are these?”
“The sentries,” George explained. He picked up the first bird and closed his eyes for a moment.
The bird shivered.
Oh, my God.
The bird rolled on its feet. It spread its large wings.
“Go on,” George murmured.
The bird flapped its wings and flew into the woods. George watched it go. “I’m a necromancer. The birds will keep watch, and I’ll know if anyone comes close.”
Wow. They were some pair. One was a lynx, and the other one brought corpses to life.
“I would like to hear your story.” George picked up the second bird.
“My childhood wasn’t nearly as bad as yours, so this will sound like I’m throwing myself a pity party, and I am. To you, my problems might be small, but to me, they’re huge. Funny how it always works that way. Ask a man how much a dollar is worth, and he’ll tell you, ‘Almost nothing.’ Try to take a dollar away from him, and you’ll get yourself a fight.” She smiled.
“You’re right, my problems are the biggest problems ever,” George said. “No, honestly, it’s horrible to be me. I’m rich, talented, and I make girls cry.”
“How do you make girls cry, exactly?”
George turned to her. His blue eyes widened. His lovely face took on a forlorn, deeply troubled expression. He leaned forward, and, in a theatrical whisper, said, “My past is tragic. I wouldn’t want to burden you with it. It’s a pain I must suffer alone. In the rain. In silence.”