“By a year. Issak was a good big brother,” he tells me softly, and I ache for his loss.
The name sparks something in me, and my brow folds in question. “Was Issak a common name?” I ask curiously, I’ve heard it twice now, which suddenly seems odd to me.
Zeph shrugs like he’s never really thought about it. I make a note to ask Wekun when I get back. I lean a shoulder against the wall and quietly try to give Zeph as much time in this place as he needs. I’m curious as to why he brought us here, but I realize that it may not have been a conscious decision, but more of a fleeting thought our new ability grasped onto somehow.
“Lazza had a tainted mind even when we were young. People don’t like to admit that about eyas, but sometimes you can see the rot early.”
I drop my head and nod in understanding. I had limited contact with Lazza, but I could definitely see that. I didn’t sense an ounce of compassion in him either of the two times I was in his presence.
“Issak found a nest of sparrow hatchlings in the training yard one day. He didn’t say much after we were taken away, but when he found the little creatures, and it was clear the parents weren’t coming back, he became single-minded in caring for them. I can see now that he was working through what had been done to us, maybe shifting his loss and hurt onto the tiny birds, but every day I saw more and more of my brother come back.”
Anguish throbs through me, because I can see where this story is going. I shove away from the wall and move toward Zeph as he stares at his hands blankly and continues.
“Lazza didn’t just kill them, he tortured them. Unlike his parents, however, he didn’t have the power to force Issak to just sit and watch like he had to with our mother and father. When Lazza broke that last little hatchling’s wings and then started in on its feet, Issak snapped. It all happened so fast; I should have helped him, but I was just so stunned. I didn’t move, not to help the little sparrows or my brother, and then…”
“They killed him,” I finish, and Zeph nods.
“I thought he’d be scared, and that was in his eyes when I pulled him into my lap and tried to stop the bleeding while also trying to get us away from the riots. But there was so much anger in his eyes too, anger and...relief. I’ve never stopped fighting since. Not against the Avowed, my past, the Ouphe...you.”
Zeph looks up, his golden, honey-colored gaze fixing on mine, and I’m taken aback by the regret I find in it. “I don’t know if I’m capable of putting aside the fight. It’s what’s kept me going for most of my life, but I don’t want to fight against you, little sparrow. I don’t want to destroy what we should have as mates.”
I stare into Zeph’s eyes as his confession sinks into me. His stare is filled with conviction, but I can see that he’s adrift too. That he’s just as lost as I am when it comes to figuring out how we all fit together. I question if what he’s saying is enough, enough to build on, to try to start fresh, but I need more than words. I need the kind of proof that only comes with time. I need to see the day-in-day-out kind of effort his conviction is promising me.
“Okay,” I concede after a while of us studying each other and trying to read into the other’s gaze.
“Okay,” he repeats, a questioning lilt in his tone.
“Okay,” I confirm, my eyes and resolve sure. I exhale, and the concern and anxiety that felt like it had settled in my marrow abates. I look over and trace the lines of the window. An idea occurs to me, but I need to figure out how to get out of this room. “Come with me,” I tell Zeph as I move closer to the window.
Crap. It isn’t the slide open kind.
I reach for a lone chair that’s been propped in the corner and grip it by the back. I bring it up like I’m ready to hit a home run.
“What are you doing?” Zeph shouts out, grabbing for the chair and pulling it out of my hands.
“We have to get out of here somehow, and I don’t know how to use the slipping thing properly yet,” I defend.
Zeph reaches over me to a handle on the right-hand side of the window. He gives it one good twist, and what do you know, the whole frame opens out into the night, like a door.
“Oh,” I chirp in surprise, “...that’s a cool trick.”
Zeph shakes his head and snorts, and I just shrug as I call on my wings. The black as coal appendages shove out of my shoulder blades, and I bite back the smile that wants to take over my face when Zeph’s wings immediately pop out too.
“Show me Lazza’s house,” I ask as I climb out of the window onto a branch that’s as thick as a car.
Zeph doesn’t say anything as he follows me out, but he does step around me to take the lead. I expect him to question why I want to see it, or to maybe shut down at the thought of having to go back there, but he just walks out on the limb until the air is clear of branches below him, and then jumps off.
It’s like watching a graceful diver leap out into the air, ready to twist and flip his way into a perfect score. He spreads his arms like he was made to do nothing more than ride the wind, and his ebony-dipped wings flare out powerfully to catch a current that forces him to arc up into the air.
I
