CHAPTER ONE
Ninian
Moonlight clung like moisture to the abalone walls of the cave, and the sound of lapping seawater echoed over itself in so many whispers. Ninian’s feet disturbed puddles as he walked carefully, one hand outstretched to touch the age-polished wall.
He cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Evening, people.”
In the back of the hollow, three shadows moved. Two stayed behind while the other stepped forward into the vague light that penetrated the cave from the rising moon. “Ninian. You’re late.”
No matter how many times they met, no matter where, no matter when, Ninian was always startled by her voice. Something heavy about it made it intoxicating and warm, and that violently mismatched its owner. Ninian tucked his hair behind his ear. “So?”
Brígh stepped nearer, and Ninian resisted the urge to move back. He kept his chin high while Brígh scowled with distaste. “Doran.” Brígh snapped her fingers, and one of the shadows behind her placed a pouch into her hand. After weighing it in her calloused palm, she tossed it carelessly to Ninian. “There’s your cut.” She turned away and settled back into the shadows. “Dawn tomorrow, wait at the southern dock. Someone will give you your assignment.”
Ninian traced his teeth with his tongue, letting out a disappointed breath. The southern dock lay on the opposite side of the city, through the Inner Maze, near the farms. Beyond the farms rose the enormous cliffs that barricaded the Maze’s peninsula from the higher mainland, and from Brígh’s meeting spot, Ninian would actually be able to see them: there’d be no buildings to block the view at that remote edge of the Maze. The docks were irritatingly far away—he’d have to leave in the middle of that night, a night which had already begun to slip away. “The rock between your ears is in a good mood today, Brígh,” he sighed. “Meeting in such a pretty part of nowhere, granting me a whole three hours’ rest.” His lip twitched. “It’s generous, really,” he added, and watched Brígh’s scarred face twist at his sarcasm. “For someone who won’t even grant herself a bath.”
The smack to the side of his head didn’t come as a surprise, but it still sent him stumbling to catch his balance on the obsidian-smooth wall. Brígh twined a handful of his russet hair in her fist, taking advantage of its length to grip it well, and yanked his head down so that her face was level with his. “Remember your place,” she growled quietly.
Ninian swore, but didn’t allow his expression to show pain. “Got it, got it. Southern dock, dawn tomorrow.”
Brígh released him, waved a hand languidly, and Ninian understood that he was dismissed. Careful not to slip, he made his way out of the cave and back into the night.
His feet carried him homeward without much direction from his mind. The danger of being out after dark, especially with money in his pocket, propelled him on.
“Ninian!”
Ninian almost jumped out of his skin, and he whirled around. It took him a moment to process the voice, and by the time he did, it was laughing.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Like hell you didn’t,” Ninian gasped. “In ainm dé.”
Áed stepped out of the shadows where evidently he’d been waiting, and his eyes caught the moonlight. Those eyes, even after years, still ran tingles over Ninian’s skin, and Ninian felt goosebumps prickle on his arms as his love’s crimson irises glimmered in the dark. “Well?” Áed said, slipping an arm around Ninian’s waist. “Did she pay you?”
“Uh-huh.”
Áed seemed to sense Ninian’s mood. “Something wrong?”
Ninian shook his head. His cheek still stung, and his scalp did, too. “Brígh got to me, that’s all.”
“What happened?”
Ninian sighed, and Áed released him in order to face him. “She’s just rude.”
Áed laughed softly, and Ninian lost his train of thought for a moment. He didn’t think Áed fully recognized his heart-stopping effect on Ninian; frankly—and perhaps this was foolishly romantic, a concept borrowed from a book and never returned—Ninian thought he’d be happy enough if he could simply live and die with Áed beside him. “We can’t all have your manners, Nin,” Áed said. “Has she said who you’re up against next?”
Ninian shook his head, re-focusing. “No, I’ll find out tomorrow morning. Then probably fight that night.”
With a sigh, Áed settled back into Ninian, who put an arm around him again. “I wish there were another way.”
“There’s not.” Ninian felt Áed stiffen slightly and knew he’d spoken more intensely than he’d meant. “I fight their fights; I get a bit of the spoils. It’s fair.”
He could tell without looking that Áed was pursing his lips with disapproval.
Ninian let out a breath. “It feeds us, love. What would I do instead?”
Áed was quiet for a moment. “We could leave.”
“We can’t leave.” Ninian knew where Áed wanted to go, and the beauty of the idea only made it more painful. Even if the journey were easy, and even if Ninian were willing to risk their meager lives for something uncertain, they couldn’t leave.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
Ninian couldn’t leave. His gang was not particularly forgiving of deserters—he doubted he’d even make it past the border of the city—and Áed had made it clear that he and Ninian were in it together. Gods, Ninian loved him.
“I know that,” Áed huffed. Then he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry, Nin. I’ll drop it.”
Ninian gave his attention to the stars above them, to Áed’s warmth beside him, and to the rhythm of their feet on the ground. Tomorrow was a dangerous day, just like any other, but Ninian had learned long ago that dread changed nothing for the better. The fight would go well or badly, he would win or lose, and life would go on.
Or it wouldn’t.
CHAPTER TWO
Áed
It was a no-holds-barred sort of fight, which meant, quite simply, that Áed stayed out of it. This was frustrating, because Ninian was losing badly. Áed leaned back against the crumbling red brick of the tenement behind him and ran a crooked hand over his mouth as he took in the shouts of “Fight! Fight!”
“Ay, that’s right,” someone in the crowd yelped. “Knock his nose in, Morry, go on!”
“Shut up, you amadán,” his buddy screeched, and Áed sighed. Morcant would wear the idiot’s entrails as a scarf if he heard the poor fool call him ‘Morry.’ The amadán in question must have been completely drunk.
“Come on, Ninny,” Áed called, contributing his voice to the melee for the first time. “If you don’t quit, he’ll kill you.”
“He’s already killing me!” Ninian gasped, and Áed winced in sympathy and shook his head.
One of the gigantic street torches overhead flickered and rained a shower of orange sparks over the grimy, chanting crowd. Áed looked up with a touch of worry—if that fire went out, the nighttime blackness would be nearly complete. It would probably break up the fight, which meant that Ninian’s nose might be spared the trip to the cobblestones, but it also meant they would probably have to feel their way back to a lit street.