“Why?”
“Because ideas like love lead to chaos, and chaos leads to disintegration. You should learn your Prayer better before you talk about things you don’t understand.” Hen’s face grew hotter as he went on, wishing he could stop but unable to, somehow.
“Love is why you come to see us every full moon,” Kajja protested.
“Keep your voice down.”
She sighed but nodded.
He slowed his pace now there were fewer people the nearer they came to the gate. “That’s different. That’s the duty of love. I also have a duty of love to Kass, yes.”
“No, that’s not what I—”
“I know what you mean,” he snapped. “And I said to stop being childish.”
She looked at her feet and set her jaw. He couldn’t tell if she was angry or sad. Or some combination, more likely.
Then she shouldn’t talk about fairy tales. “Those kinds of love stories are always lessons about why you shouldn’t believe in love,” he pointed out. Yes, some people enjoyed them, even enjoyed putting themselves into such situations in their own imagination. But duty was reliable, admirable, orderly; romantic love was disordered. That was all there was to it.
“I didn’t say I believed in it. I just asked if you loved—”
“I heard you,” he interrupted.
They were quiet the rest of the short way to the gate. He stepped outside with her, where civic buildings and the nearby High City manors rose up against the mountainside, the very top of the Stone City. She’d be fine from here by herself; there was nowhere safer in the city. And yet… “I’ll take you home,” he decided.
She turned down a side street with him, silent. After a few moments, she ventured, “I’m sorry. I just—it’s been a while since I’ve seen you two together. I think your…partnership is very good. For both of you.”
“Yes, that’s the point,” Hen said, but her words had taken some of the heat out of him. “Before Children of the Blood had dedicated guards, there was much more unrest at the Complex. They formed little social factions, exclusionary ones; some of them grew lonely and wasted away, some of them tried to grow power and influence over the others. They couldn’t go out into the City, even once they were old enough, because they weren’t prepared for its challenges and violence. They couldn’t live anything like a life, and it twisted them up inside, sometimes.
“Giving them someone to protect them from themselves and the outside world, someone their very own, changed things for the better. Made it easier for them to focus on preparing for their inheritance.”
“You sound like you’re reciting something,” Kajja said.
“It’s one of the first things they teach us at the Academy. It’s our purpose.”
Kajja nodded and remained silent for a few moments as they walked on. Hendrik slowed his pace to match hers—despite the strange embarrassment she’d induced in him, he wasn’t eager to be rid of her. He wished he could talk to her, explain things to her, but the things he wanted to say were as much a part of him as his blood, his mind, his heart. How could he explain everything he was made for in one short walk through the City to a sister he hardly knew?
When they reached the Mid-District gate, Kajja finally spoke. “Thank you. For inviting me. It was the most interesting day I’ve had in a long time.”
“What about your studies?” Hen wondered. She’d spoken animatedly of them back in their cell.
“I love to read and learn,” she replied slowly, thoughtfully. “But I do that all day every day, right now. Sometimes I crave new things.” A little pause. “Sometimes I dread them.”
“Me too,” Hendrik admitted. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry for snapping. Your question took me off-guard.”
“I know. I didn’t think it would, but now I know that was silly,” she said wryly.
“Our lives are very different,” he allowed.
Kajja said, “I’m glad we get to see you more than most guard families.”
“Me too,” he said. Even if it marked him out as only a few generations removed from the mines, in that moment, he was glad.
They were quiet the rest of the way to their street. Then they clasped hands, and Hendrik said, “I meant it. I really will think about it.”
“Thank you,” she said with a little smile. And then she turned and went inside without another look or word.
*
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Hendrik sighed but stopped just inside the Complex courtyard. Things had quieted down since he’d left with Kajja less than an hour ago, but people—mostly guards, now—still milled about.
“You said we’d talk after drill. That was a week ago. You’ve been running back to your cell every morning since.” Piret stepped up beside him, tossing her curls over her shoulder.
“I know,” Hen admitted. “I haven’t been myself this week.”
“Something up with Kass?”
Hendrik shook his head. “He’s the same as always.”
“Perfect obedient godchild?” She grinned.
When he’s not being an incorrigible brat godchild. “That’s him.”
“Lyla needs to take lessons. I saw him giving some to Dierk and that little pugnacious girl, whats-her-name, earlier.”
“They’re still young. I think it’s too late for Lyla.”
