The force of her emotion startled Hen. Of course, nervousness about marriage was to be expected—a lifelong commitment to start a new household with someone she hardly knew was a daunting prospect. But sex? It was just…sex. It was fun, and if it wasn’t, you didn’t have to have it unless you applied for and were granted a child license, anyhow.
“I said I’d think about it,” Hen said in his strongest guard-voice.
Kass made a face. “Oof. Fine.”
Kajja sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest again. “Fine,” she echoed. “I promise I’ll never ask you for anything ever again if you do it, though.”
Hendrik tried to think of a time she’d asked him for anything before and came up incredibly short. But again, Kajja wasn’t his job, Kass was. She was his sister, but most sisters didn’t even come to visit their guard siblings, let alone want to spend an afternoon chatting with them and their charge. To want to adventure into the Tavern District with them was…
It was unheard of, was what it was.
And yet, the way Kajja’s smooth, pale forehead creased, the way she was curled in on herself almost protectively just then, gave Hendrik pause. Made him think again of her impassioned questions that he definitely couldn’t answer.
Jak—or better yet, one of his younger coworkers who did not already know every intimate crevice and plane of Hendrik’s body—certainly could. And even if she wasn’t his duty to protect, he did like Kajja and want her to get the best start in her new life. If she was nervous about this aspect of married life and she’d come to them for help…
He needed to sleep on it. “Tell us about Kon’s latest projects,” he suggested instead. “What’s he working on in that shop of his?”
Kajja sighed, but some of the tension went out of her. “It’s all clockwork, now, and nothing else. You should see him when he gets in there, bent over some spring or another, swearing and tinkering. It’s kind of sweet, really.”
“Like, the clocks on the towers?” Kass asked, cocking his head sideways.
Slowly but surely, Kajja let herself be led away from the topic that was clearly burning a hole in her mind.
An hour later, the three of them wandered into the courtyard, heading in the vague direction of the gate. There was always a crowd on visiting days; most people didn’t stay longer than it took to drop off an offering basket, but there was a constant stream of them to add to the occasional longer visit. The Guardhall sent extra guards-in-training to back up the Complex guards, too, which meant tower tabards were everywhere.
Increased guard presence didn’t stop some of the younger Children of the Blood from misbehaving, though. Two of them stood just outside their halls, red-faced and yelling at each other while their guards stood staring at their own feet, uncertain.
“What’s going on?” Kajja asked, stopping in her tracks to watch the confrontation.
“It’s nothing, come on.” Hendrik didn’t slow his step. It was bad form to let anyone from outside the Complex see their future gods acting like, well, children.
Even if they were children. All four parties, guards and charges, were 13 at the most. One of the Children of the Blood, a young girl whose name escaped Hendrik just then, shouted, “My guard could beat yours up any day!”
“No, she could not! Mine is taller and stronger!” shot back the other, a boy called Dirk or Derrik or something to that effect. He was one of the kids that Kass liked, so he was easier to remember.
“Hey, hey, you two.” Kass stepped in between the kids and held out both hands, preempting any potential violence.
Because of course he did. Even as he rolled his eyes, Hendrik experienced a swell of affection so overwhelming it almost bowled him over physically. Years ago, he would’ve interfered. Now, he knew better; Kass could handle this, and everyone would be the better for it.
“That’s no way to talk about your guards,” Kass said, pointing to a nearby bench. “Come on, sit down, tell me what happened.”
“She said her guard was better than mine! It’s not true!” said the boy.
Kass pointed again, this time more forcefully, and the kids hung their heads and obeyed.
Their adolescent guards, though relieved, still looked vaguely terrified and very embarrassed. It was difficult to know how and when to interfere, when two Children of the Blood started at each other like that. Hen made a note to ask the masters to give some guidance on the subject as soon as possible.
Kass was already imparting guidance of his own to his little protege, however. “Dierk, of course Anya thinks her guard is the best. And Anya, Dierk should think his is, too. They’re not like toys you can make fight for entertainment. Your guard is your best friend, your family, the person who takes care of you. But you have to take care of them too.”
The kids muttered vague things under their breath. Kass shook his head and turned back to Kajja—who was watching, fascinated—and Hendrik. “Go on, you two. See you soon, Kajja?”
“Hopefully,” she said without glancing Hen’s way.
“You’re good?” Hen asked, though he knew the answer.
“I will be, once these two calm down enough to listen to their elders,” Kass said with a grin that belied his stern words.
Hendrik shot him a smile then composed his face and started walking again. “Come on, Kajja. I’ll walk you out the gate.”
She had to run a few steps to catch up with him, but when she did she lowered her voice and said, “Can I ask you something?”
“I told you I’d think about it.” Hen tried to put as much warning in his tone as he could.
“No, not that.” She rolled her eyes. “About Kass.”
It was all Hen could do not to sigh with relief. “Oh. Of course, yes.”
“Are you in love with him?”
Hen nearly tripped on the cobbles. They were always uneven, had been for centuries, probably, and he knew each one of them by heart after his time treading back and forth on them. What in all the hells was wrong with him? “Don’t be foolish, Kajja.”
“I’m not. I’m serious!” She was wide-eyed again, earnest, and irritatingly compelling.
Hendrik shook his head. “If you want to be treated like an adult then you should stop talking like a child.”
“It’s not childish!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course it’s childish.” Hen shot her a glare. “Or even worse, if it’s not childish, it’s disordered.”
