Áed had to stifle a small, out-of-place laugh. “He has a couple broken bones, so I gave him some skee.”
Ronan’s brow furrowed as he took in Ninian like an interesting insect. “Oh.” He glanced up, all big eyes, to Áed again. “Is he alright?”
“He should be fine.” That could never be a promise, but Ninian had taken worse.
Ninian finally managed to get hold of an apple slice, and he grinned at Áed before popping it into his mouth. Ronan giggled. “What a dope. Can I have some skee?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you want to act like a dope? Take another slice for yourself and go on back upstairs.”
Ninian needed to eat, so Áed offered him the apple slices and watched carefully to make sure he ate them. When he was done, Áed sank back into his chair and sighed as silence settled over the flat. A few minutes later, he heard Ninian snore.
Áed pushed himself up and found his way in the dark to the window, where distant clouds churned lightning over the sea. As usual, part of Áed’s mind hovered on the city beyond the fringes of the Maze, beyond the sparse, salt-soiled little farms, beyond the unscalable cliffs. Ninian, with his ancestral memory, had told stories of the White City; he described people living in tidy houses, not tipping, ramshackle towers, and streets full of food, not garbage. Áed had wanted to travel to the top of the cliffs for as long as he could remember, and once he and Ninian had adopted Ronan, he’d wanted it even more. The first time Áed had mentioned this to Ninian, Ninian had shaken his head. “People try to go, love, but the ones who come back say it’s impossible. And the rest don’t come back at all. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Why would they come back?” Áed had retorted. He would not be discouraged—the White City had become a comfort to him. After all, no amount of hoping could change the Maze, but the White City’s promise reliably loomed just beyond the horizon.
Ninian had said nothing, and the argument had died. They couldn’t leave, and that was just a fact: Ninian was too entrenched in his gang, and Áed would not leave him. The fact was, hardly anybody left the Maze anyway. To chase a pretty story felt like foolishness when scraping by was hard enough, and the towering cliffs jutting up from the lowland presented another deadly discouragement. People told themselves that their lives were as good as they could ever be.
It just wasn’t right.
CHAPTER THREE
Áed had already eaten a little breakfast, woken Ronan, and made a halfhearted attempt to get the blood out of Ninians’s shirt before Ninian even opened his eyes the next day.
Still in his armchair, Ninian moaned. “Gods, Áed, close the curtains.”
“We don’t have curtains, amadán.” Still, Áed ambled over to drape his blanket over the top of the window. “How’s your chest?”
Ninian groaned. “Overshadowed, in fact.”
Áed blinked in alarm. “By what?”
Ninian groaned again, the sound painful and dull. “My head.”
Áed raised an eyebrow. “Your head? I didn’t think you hit your head.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then—”
“I am never,” Ninian said with a stone face, his voice taking on the tone of a vow, “touching that nasty skee of yours again.”
Áed blinked, and then found himself laughing. “Oh, Gods,” he chuckled. “You are such a lightweight.”
Ninian grunted, but for once didn’t seem to be in the mood to spar. “I haven’t forgotten my orders. I’m staying put with Ronan today.”
Áed rolled his eyes. “Be nice.”
“I’m always nice,” he groused, eyes flicking up to glare at his partner’s face. The partner in question raised an eyebrow.
“There’s bread for breakfast. I think you need it.”
“I need a hell of a lot more than bread.”
Turning from Ninian, Áed shook his head to wake himself up a bit more. His sandy blond hair was disheveled and sticking up every which way, but at least it was too short to get truly tangled, as Ninian’s could. He’d never given much thought to his appearance, because that was for people who didn’t live in the Maze, but he still gave it a habitual brush with his fingers.
As Áed was fetching the brickish loaf from the cupboard, Ronan poked his sleep-ruffled head through the door. “Got any food?”
Áed said, “Yes,” at the same time Ninian muttered, “No, go away.” Áed rolled his eyes to glare at Ninian, who just sunk more deeply into his chair.
“Why is there a blanket over the window?” Ronan asked curiously.
“Because I’m sick of looking at the Gut,” Ninian snapped, crossing his arms and then grimacing and uncrossing them.
“He’s hungover,” Áed explained. “And cranky.”
Ronan raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be upstairs all day.”
“At least you know what’s good for you,” Ninian growled.
“Don’t mind him,” Áed interjected.
“Mind me,” Ninian countered.
“Shut up, Ninian,” Áed and Ronan ordered simultaneously, and Ronan laughed his little-boy laugh and hustled over to cut up the bread.
“Gods, I hate both of you,” Ninian groaned.
✽ ✽ ✽
Áed headed out after grabbing a stale chunk of the bread. He had work to do. Ninian’s fight money—which only came when Ninian won—provided income, but not enough to support three people. What’s more, when Ninian was properly injured, his gang wouldn’t give him another fight until he had healed enough to have a chance at winning. They all still had to eat in the meantime.
Work opportunities, however, had never presented themselves particularly willingly to Áed. With his hands ruined, Áed couldn’t even join a gang; he’d tried when he was younger. Ninian had been horrified at him for even considering the possibility, and, thoroughly discouraged from that route, Áed had given up. Now, he scavenged for Máel Máedóc, bringing the man useful rubbish from the street that the shopkeeper could sell.
Áed did plan on scavenging that day, but before he began combing the alleys for abandoned coats and cracked bottles, he had something else in mind.
He turned down a side street, hands in his pockets, heading for the docks.
The sound of the sea had just barely begun to reach his ears when an arm caught him gruffly around the shoulders, pulling him into an uncomfortable sideways hold. He tensed, hands clenching in his pockets, but his assailant only laughed with delight. “You! Been wondering when you’d come back here, ye bastard!”
Áed squirmed out from under the man’s arm. “Yeah.” He straightened his battered jacket, casting a wary glance at the man and taking a step to the side. “Guess I couldn’t stay away.”
The man, undeterred by Áed’s tone, clapped him on the back heartily. “You’re back for more, eh?” He leaned in closer, conspiratorially. “Won’t get me so easy this time.”