Page 12 of Stalk the Sky

“Your…cousins?” Stickyfingers swung his gaze from Rokyd to Lucien to Fieran, a furrow between his brows.

“We’re brothers.” Rokyd threw an arm over Lucien’s shoulders. “Can’t you tell?”

The two of them couldn’t look more unlike brothers. Besides a general similarity in height and burly build, they had no resemblance to each other or to Uncle Julien and Aunt Vriska.

“But…” Stickyfingers gestured vaguely. He might have grown up on the streets of Aldon in a family of crooks, but even he had enough sense not to point out the obvious.

Rokyd and Lucien shared a look before Rokyd laughed.

Fieran worked to suppress his grin. The two of them took far too much pleasure in people’s confusion.

Lucien leaned his elbows on the table. “We’re adopted.”

“Ah.” Stickyfingers gave a nod, as if that explained everything for him. “So you aren’t brothers by blood.”

Maybe not so much sense. But at least Fieran’s cousins weren’t easily offended. Not these particular cousins, anyway.

“Well, we are. Kind of.” Lucien held up his left hand, showing a faint scar across his palm.

Rokyd held up his own left hand, which had a similar scar. “Troll adoptions involve blood. Most troll ceremonies do. We’re considered their children by blood just as much as if we were born of their blood.”

“Huh. Sounds…messy.” Stickyfingers wiggled his hand on his fork, as if imagining what a troll ceremony might entail.

“Tell them the whole story.” Fieran spoke around a bite of fish. No matter how many times he heard it, he always got a kick out of listening to Rokyd spin the tale.

Rokyd’s grin widened as he, too, leaned his elbows on the table. “Well, you see, my ma is not exactly the maternal sort. She was not about to put up with pregnancy and squalling babies.”

“I do not blame her.” Aylia gave a little shudder of her own. “Babies are rather terrifying.”

“Exactly.” Rokyd nodded to her. “After my da and ma married, they were given Akarak Stronghold and the nearby village as their home in Kostaria. When Mongavaria poisoned grain and killed thousands of trolls, Akarak was hit particularly hard.”

Fieran quickly shoveled in the last of his food while he listened to the familiar story.

Stickyfingers, Lije, and Tiny leaned forward, their food forgotten and growing cold. Pip chewed more slowly while Merrik took a moment to finish the last of his fish.

“Kostaria is a bit different than Escarland. Orphans aren’t sent to an orphanage. Instead, it’s the responsibility of the village to take in those they can.” Rokyd’s voice kept a steady rhythm. “The rest are raised as wards of the warrior family of the nearest stronghold, usually trained to be low-level guards in the household when they grow up.”

“So you were a ward of Prince Julien and Lady Vriska?” Lije blinked, his face twisting as he tried to put it all together.

“I was supposed to be, yes.” For the first time, Rokyd’s voice went a hint rough. “My entire family except for me died in the poisonings. I went a bit feral after that, living on the streets of Akarak and not allowing anyone to get near me. When Da and Ma finally cornered me to get me off the streets and into the stronghold, I bit Ma’s finger so hard I drew blood. In that moment, she decided that I belonged with her and Da. Not just as a ward but as a son.”

“Because you bit her finger?” Lije’s forehead scrunched. The fish on his plate had to be stone-cold by now.

“Yep. She still has the scar.” Rokyd grinned, his eyes going soft.

“What did your da think of that?” Stickyfingers seemed to remember he had food and scooped up another bite.

“Oh, he was thrilled. He loves children, and he was more than happy to turn his parental instincts toward giving love to those who wouldn’t have a family otherwise.” Rokyd shrugged and gestured to Lucien. “It worked out well. Da got children; Ma got to skip over the baby stage. Not the solution for every couple in their position, but it worked for them. That’s where he came in.”

“I have Aunt Essie to thank for my joining the family.” Lucien tipped his head in Fieran’s direction. His face and tone had less of Rokyd’s lighthearted tone, a hint of the memories he wasn’t revealing simmering just below the surface. “I was in an orphanage in Escarland that Aunt Essie supports with her charity work. I had become something of a bully, and those at the orphanage were at their wits’ end when it came to me. Aunt Essie asked Da and Ma to meet me, and that was that.”

“And then there’s Sathrah.” Rokyd’s gaze flicked to something past Fieran, his smile widening.

Lucien’s gaze, too, focused on something—or someone—behind Fieran, his grin returning. “Oh, we definitely can’t forget about Sathrah.”

Fieran swiveled on the bench as a female troll warrior stalked to their table, her skin an exceptionally dark gray and her hair tinted a very light shade of brown that was unusual in trolls.

She gripped the back of Pretty Face’s shirt as if he were a kitten she had by the scruff of his neck. Pretty Face’s nose dribbled blood as he alternately tried to stem the bleeding and tug on his collar to keep from choking. His toes barely touched the ground as he was frog-marched to their table.

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