“Seduction is using his talent to change his rank!” Siret shouted, his voice carrying with enough force to make me flinch.
Up ahead, I could see Coen and Rome stopping, the setting sun turning them into huge silhouettes as they spun around, threads of yellow and gold weaving over their bodies and highlighting the fact that I really shouldn’t be encouraging them to compete over an imaginary ranking, because they were far too powerful-looking to mess with, just for the fun of it.
“That’s cheating!” Coen shouted back.
“You cheat, you die!” Rome added, in an equally booming voice. Why the hell was he playing into this when he already seemed to know that it wasn’t a real ranking?
I told myself to come clean; to open up that mouth of mine that was always getting me into trouble and tell them all what Yael and Rome were obviously keeping to themselves. Or maybe they weren’t keeping it to themselves. Maybe they had completely disregarded the fact that the ranking had nothing to do with them and everything to do with their dorm numbers, because they didn’t care. Because it was a competition. Because they were making it a competition. Because they clearly wanted one of their brothers to murder me.
I had to come clean. As soon as possible.
We had reached the others by now, and they all seemed to be staring at Aros, waiting for an explanation. It was annoying me, because they couldn’t just turn it into a competition without me agreeing. The whole thing was my idea. They couldn’t just steal it. Plus, Aros was still cradling me like a baby, and for some reason, it was making my temper bubble. I wanted to be standing on my own feet, preferably towering over all of them.
“My ranks, my rules,” I blurted.
“So we can use our—” Rome began, but I held my hand up, palm facing outward, hoping that it would cut him off. Hell no, Crusher couldn’t use his ‘talent’ on me.
He stared at my extended hand for a moment. He seemed confused. It was possible that nobody had ever tried to cut him off before.
“No, you can’t!” I twisted out of Aros’s arms, landing on my hands and knees in the grass, pain shimmering up my body. I quickly pulled to my feet, brushing off my knees. “Nobody is allowed to use their talent on me to change their rank. Because that would be cheating. And like I said: my ranks, my rules.” I realised that I was doing the exact opposite of what I was supposed to be doing, but it seemed like a pretty promising way to prevent the Abcurses from using their talents on me, period.
“We might as well stop here for the night,” Coen muttered, breaking up the stare-off that I had going on with his brothers. “The dweller is getting cranky. She needs to be fed and watered and rested, or whatever dwellers need.”
“You’re getting us confused with bullsen.” I shook my head, insulted at the comparison.
“You don’t need to be fed?” he prompted, his expression blank.
“Food would be nice.”
“And you don’t need to be watered?”
“As in watered-down, like showered? Or given water?”
His blank mask cracked, just barely, but it was enough for me to glimpse the surprise beneath. He didn’t answer me, trading a look with Rome. The others were similarly silent, their faces quickly morphing into the same, locked-down expression.
“You need help showering?” Siret finally asked, evidently the first of them to cave and ask the question that had held them all up. “Dwellers don’t shower on their own?”
“What? No. What? I meant—”
“We’re getting nowhere with this.” Rome cut across me, raising his hand in my face. So, they were competitive and vengeful. I should never have taught him that trick. “The dweller needs to tend to herself. They need regular breaks and sustenance, just like the bullsen.”
“You guys don’t need regular breaks and sustenance?” I asked, folding my arms, and attempting to look down my nose at them.
I knew all too well how much tending they needed. I knew, because I watched people fetch them food, and I collected their laundry.
“We don’t need regular anything,” Rome returned, a laugh in his voice.
“Exactly,” Yael added, his smile matching his brother’s. “Our breaks are never normal, and our food is never normal. That’s how we stand apart from the bullsen and the dwellers. Everything about us is extraordinary.”
“Especially your egos,” I sneered.
“I said ‘everything’, didn’t I?”
Nine