He gave her a silent nod, and she raised her hand and waved.
“What does he look like?” Speaking behind Barrie, Eight made her jump.
He stood in the doorway, shirtless with his golden skin shining with moon and flame. His hair fell across his forehead, making Barrie want to reach over and brush it away. Brushaway all her doubts and the things she wished she didn’t know.
She concentrated very hard on not wanting to talk about any of that .
“He’s our age,” she said. “Your age, maybe. Wearing a red-and-black mask of war paint and a dark feathered cape. Not what I’d expect a witch to look like.”
“Then maybe he’s a warrior. Or a war priest, or one in training.” Eight’s lips kicked into a lopsided smile. “Yes, I’ve been trying to read up. The Internet’s a wonderful thing.”
“What does your dad say about him?”
“Nothing much except that he’s yours. You’re supposed to protect the island and keep it safe, which is why you see him, and we’re supposed to know what people want so that we can guess their intentions and keep our side of the bargain.”
“What kind of bargain?”
Eight gave a tight and impatient shrug. “Dad claims that’s all he knows.”
“Do you believe him?”
Eight turned to look at her more fully. “What do you mean?”
Barrie took a moment to choose her words, because family relationships were like rubber bands, liable to snap back against anyone who tried to stretch them. And despite the questionable choices he had made, Seven was still Eight’s father.
“The gift has never been interrupted in your family,” shesaid. “So why wouldn’t all the knowledge and the reasons—the whole instruction manual for the bargains the Fire Carrier made—have been passed down to Seven? Since Pru doesn’t know anything, your father is our best chance for finding out the truth.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried to get him to tell me? He doesn’t want me to know.”
“You’re not a kid. Maybe it’s time you stopped asking, and demanded that he give you answers.”
Eight had gone still again, that uncanny stillness he wore like a mantle. The silence filled with the too-loud sounds of frogs and insects and the drum of Barrie’s heart. She waited for him to speak, to yell at her, to tell her to mind her own business.
Instead, he said, “What is it that you are trying so hard to hide? I can’t get a read at all—except that there’s something you don’t want to tell me.”
He crossed the balcony and leaned down beside her. With his forearms braced on the railing and his shoulder brushing hers, they were millimeters and miles apart. When she looked up, his eyes shone green and deep.
Barrie couldn’t tell him. She had already said too much. On the other hand, the fact that he couldn’t read her gave her a little hope. Evidently, she couldn’t lie to him about what she wanted, but she could mask her wants, or at least layer them with other things she wanted.
She turned back toward the river.
“There are these things called boundaries,” she said. “From now on, if I don’t want to tell you something, maybe you could try respecting that. You clearly accept it with your dad. And maybe I don’t even know what I want. People frequently don’t.”
“I can’t help knowing, any more than you can help feeling something lost. What you want is just there , like seeing colors when some people are color-blind.”
“You told me once that you don’t like your dad’s sense of ethics. That he manipulates people—”
“I’m not manipulating you—”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Barrie picked at a shard of cracking paint on the balcony railing and watched the boats drifting on the water. “You told me once that you didn’t want to live the way your father does, using the gift to bend the rules and maneuver people into doing what you want. I know he doesn’t do anything illegal. But what if he did something bad in another way,
“What does he look like?” Speaking behind Barrie, Eight made her jump.
He stood in the doorway, shirtless with his golden skin shining with moon and flame. His hair fell across his forehead, making Barrie want to reach over and brush it away. Brushaway all her doubts and the things she wished she didn’t know.
She concentrated very hard on not wanting to talk about any of that .
“He’s our age,” she said. “Your age, maybe. Wearing a red-and-black mask of war paint and a dark feathered cape. Not what I’d expect a witch to look like.”
“Then maybe he’s a warrior. Or a war priest, or one in training.” Eight’s lips kicked into a lopsided smile. “Yes, I’ve been trying to read up. The Internet’s a wonderful thing.”
“What does your dad say about him?”
“Nothing much except that he’s yours. You’re supposed to protect the island and keep it safe, which is why you see him, and we’re supposed to know what people want so that we can guess their intentions and keep our side of the bargain.”
“What kind of bargain?”
Eight gave a tight and impatient shrug. “Dad claims that’s all he knows.”
“Do you believe him?”
Eight turned to look at her more fully. “What do you mean?”
Barrie took a moment to choose her words, because family relationships were like rubber bands, liable to snap back against anyone who tried to stretch them. And despite the questionable choices he had made, Seven was still Eight’s father.
“The gift has never been interrupted in your family,” shesaid. “So why wouldn’t all the knowledge and the reasons—the whole instruction manual for the bargains the Fire Carrier made—have been passed down to Seven? Since Pru doesn’t know anything, your father is our best chance for finding out the truth.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried to get him to tell me? He doesn’t want me to know.”
“You’re not a kid. Maybe it’s time you stopped asking, and demanded that he give you answers.”
Eight had gone still again, that uncanny stillness he wore like a mantle. The silence filled with the too-loud sounds of frogs and insects and the drum of Barrie’s heart. She waited for him to speak, to yell at her, to tell her to mind her own business.
Instead, he said, “What is it that you are trying so hard to hide? I can’t get a read at all—except that there’s something you don’t want to tell me.”
He crossed the balcony and leaned down beside her. With his forearms braced on the railing and his shoulder brushing hers, they were millimeters and miles apart. When she looked up, his eyes shone green and deep.
Barrie couldn’t tell him. She had already said too much. On the other hand, the fact that he couldn’t read her gave her a little hope. Evidently, she couldn’t lie to him about what she wanted, but she could mask her wants, or at least layer them with other things she wanted.
She turned back toward the river.
“There are these things called boundaries,” she said. “From now on, if I don’t want to tell you something, maybe you could try respecting that. You clearly accept it with your dad. And maybe I don’t even know what I want. People frequently don’t.”
“I can’t help knowing, any more than you can help feeling something lost. What you want is just there , like seeing colors when some people are color-blind.”
“You told me once that you don’t like your dad’s sense of ethics. That he manipulates people—”
“I’m not manipulating you—”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Barrie picked at a shard of cracking paint on the balcony railing and watched the boats drifting on the water. “You told me once that you didn’t want to live the way your father does, using the gift to bend the rules and maneuver people into doing what you want. I know he doesn’t do anything illegal. But what if he did something bad in another way,
Similar Books
