She’s smart. She’ll find you. She’ll deal with the impostor, too. He smiled for a moment as he thought, She’s too stubborn to let anything stop her. Not even losing her mind holds her back much.
*
Avena couldn’t sleep.
Not since Fingers gave Bran the watch. Their soft talking had roused her from exhausted sleep. She lay on her back, the hard floor providing an uncomfortable bed. She rolled onto her side, and she spotted the impostor. A dark figure crouched in the dark. They’d covered the lantern with Fingers’s gambeson, wrapping the padded garment around it. Only a sliver of light bled out, a razor-thin strip of light spilling across the ruby floor.
She glared at the dark figure. The impostor.
Fingers’s sawing snores rumbled through the kitchen. The thing that had killed two of her friends now stood watch over her. Avena didn’t like having her life resting in the monster’s hands. Bitter rage and grief swirled through her. Thoughts of pregnant Jilly and motherly Joayne danced through her mind.
She’d have to tell both women the truth. I did nothing about this thing, and now Bran is dead. She focused on him with such intensity, wishing her eyes could become flaming columns and immolate him. Give me ruby jewelchines for eyes, and I’ll roast his foul flesh!
The figure shifted. “Avena?”
She didn’t answer.
“Avena, is something wrong?” It crept towards her. His features grew sharper as he stepped out of the shadows. Bran’s boyish face, smeared in places with dust but wiped mostly clean, became visible. He wore only a loose linen shirt, his gambeson stripped off. He crouched by her. She could smell his sweat. “Avena?”
“Yes?” she hissed.
“You’re staring at me like you’re mad,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Her anger flashed hot through her. She felt like an igniter activated, heat sparking to life inside of her. She bolted upright and glared at the youth before her. “You want to know what’s wrong with me?”
“Well, yeah,” Bran said, wounded pain in his voice. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“What?”
“I asked who you really are!”
“I’m Bran.” He smiled. “Who else would I be?”
“No, you’re not Bran!” Her voice echoed through the room. Fingers’s snoring stopped. “You murdered Bran just like you murdered Smiles! Who. Are. You?”
“I’m Bran,” he said again with complete confidence.
She balled her right hand into a fist and pressed the activation button. The emeralds on her glove flared to green life as she threw her punch. Bran gasped in shock. She struck him before he could pull back. The shattering of his jaw resounded through the room. He stumbled back and fell, pulling the gambeson off the lantern.
White light flooded the room, shining with the Colour of Elohm’s Honesty.
Bran’s jaw rippled white. The bone popped as it set back into place. He worked his jaw, grimacing for a moment. Then he was whole again. He rubbed at his face and gave her a sullen look, full of shocked pain.
“Bran couldn’t do that!” Avena hissed. She grabbed her binder and stood up. The amethyst flared to life. “What are you?”
Fingers sat up, his face half-shadowed.
“Tell me! Who are you? Who made you?”
Bran shrugged. “I’m No One.”
“You killed him, didn’t you?” Her voice cracked. Grief fed her anger, the emotion shining through her soul. An ugly light.
“I became him.” The impostor smiled in that boyish fashion. “I am Bran.”
“No, you’re not!” She leveled her binder at him. “You’re a thing posing as him. You were planted here to protect Dualayn by the Brotherhood!”
The impostor grimaced. “Yeah, but I don’t like it.” The thing spat. “I hate Dualayn for what he did to you, Avena. And to Kaylin. She used to be stern, but she slipped me sweetmeats and pastries when I was a child.”
“You are not BRAN!” Avena boomed. Her rage echoed around them. She didn’t care about the consequences. “Don’t talk like you are.”
“Avena,” he said with such sincerity in his voice. He pled with his eyes, staring at her like a youth who knew he was in trouble but only wanted to earn forgiveness.
The look in his eyes, like the pair of them were friends, offended her. This wasn’t Bran. This wasn’t the boy she’d watched growing up. “Stop pretending you are him! That you have any feelings for me! Drop this act!”
“I do care for you. I saved your life, remember?” His head cocked. “I pushed you clear of the carriage. It hurt real bad when it hit my head.”
Fingers stood and drew his binder. He activated it.
“You don’t care for me!” she snarled. “You just saved my life because it was part of your mission.”
“My mission is to protect Dualayn. I saved you because you’re my friend. You—”
She swung the binder at him as hard as she could. It hissed through the air, emeralds blazing on her gloves. He moved back with a blur of speed, retreating faster than Bran—a human—could. His face twisted with pain. Emotion shone in his eyes.
“I’m your friend, Avena,” he said. “I’ll always be your friend.”
“You killed my friends!” she rushed at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. He retreated and hit the wall.
She slammed her binder down. His cheekbone shattered as the purple bond snapped around his face. His flesh went white and modeled like clay. He kept staring at her as she drew back the binder.
“You murdered Bran just like you murdered Smiles, didn’t you?” She swung again.
CRACK!
His arm snapped. Bone broke through the skin and pressed against his linen sleeve. The binding gripped his torso, pinning his limbs to his side. She sobbed with incoherent rage as
