Page 22 of Ira

“Why is that do you think?” he asked, sounding so genuinely curious that I couldn’t deflect.

I hummed thoughtfully, wondering how much to say. I’d already told him more than I’d told anyone, but Verner had an aura of calmness about him that I seemed to draw on instinctively. That made the idea of telling him more and more and more about myself, even the parts I usually tried to hide away, to be not a wholly unappealing prospect.

If I wasn’t fundamentally broken and incapable of having a relationship, Verner would have been my first choice. My only choice.

But I liked him too much to inflict myself on him.

“I love the other ex-Hunters, you know. All of them. They’re so kind, and they understand me to a certain extent, but… well, only to a certain extent.” I flailed slightly, trying to think of a way to convey what I meant in terms that would make sense to Verner. “The others… it’s not like they grew up in the equivalentof palace life or anything, but they were definitely from a different kind of Hunter family than I’m from. The only one who can really relate on that front is Verity.”

We were both from working-class immigrant families, though she’d lost both her parents young while I’d only lost one. We processed our experiences very differently, though.

Verity took nothing seriously, which meant nothing ever mattered enough to hurt her. I took everythingtooseriously, and held it all at arm’s length so it never had a chance to.

“I understand that concept,” Verner said slowly. “As you may have noticed, the shadow realm is far from perfect in that respect. I regularly see it with our lieutenant, Selene. She doesn’t have the highborn background the Shades in her position traditionally require. She didn’t grow up the way most of us grew up.”

“Right—it’s similar to that. We’ve all been banished for various reasons, but some of those banishments were crueller than others.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s not a very cheerful story.”

His shadows flickered, though I wasn’t entirely sure what the movement meant. “Yes, I gathered that.”

The dryness of his tone had me suppressing another rogue smile. What would it be like to have that gift? To just bring people joy with your presence? Even as a kid, I’d been “quiet” and “serious” and “wise beyond my years.” I’d never made people laugh.

“My father died right after my sister was born. I was five. He had a heart attack—one day, he was there, the next, he was gone. My father’s family blamed my mother—I don’t remember any of this, but she always told us how awful they were. Her brother was living in the US with his family and insisted we move over from Jaipur and join them.”

“And you did?”

I nodded, though he wasn’t looking at me. “He helped with money and stuff. We lived with him for a while, until my mom finished her training and was working as a dental assistant, though she was always having to give money to her brother to pay him back for helping us get over there. At that point, I was seven years old and fully responsible for my younger sister, Latika.”

“That’s very young,” Verner murmured.

“It was. Too young. I potty trained Latika. Taught her to ride a bike. To tie her shoes. Made her dinner every night. Helped her with her homework. It was a lot.”

We were both quiet for a long moment. I suspected that Verner hadn’t understood half of what I’d said, but he was politely listening anyway.

“We were inducted into the local Hunters group when we moved,” I said guiltily. “They helped with our visas and stuff. They taught us English, taught us how to act, and what clothes to wear. My uncle was already a member, of course. Obviously, I feel a lot of guilt about that part of my life now, but as a kid, that was my main support network. I just wanted to fit in with the kids in my class, I listened to everything they told me without question.”

“Of course,” Verner agreed readily. “No child is responsible for participating in that organization—that was a choice made for them. Leaving, though, breaking away from all you’ve known, that is the difficult part. That is what takes bravery.”

I grimaced at the sky. “I wish I could tell you that I was brave, but I was kicked out. It was life-ruining at the time—I was shunned by everyone I knew, kicked out of my home, and cut off from my sister. Now, I look at it as a blessing, for the most part. Leaving would have always been the right choice, but would Ihave been brave enough to make it if it hadn’t been decided for me? I’m not so sure.”

Verner hummed. “I suspect you’re much braver than you’re giving yourself credit for. You found a way to survive when the Hunters turned their back on you. And you came here—that was no small feat.”

That was true. Those first twelve months after leaving were a blur in my memory—I’d been operating purely in survival mode. That I’d built a life for myself—though it hadn’t been a very glamorous one—was my greatest accomplishment.

“There was a man. A Hunter,” I began slowly, scarcely believing that I was saying the words out loud. I’d never said them to anyone before. If I had my way, I’d never have to speak them out loud again, but I was willing to move out of my comfort zone for Verner. “He was old enough to be my father. That’s how I saw him—a mentor of sorts, an adult that I could talk to. He wasn’t on the Council, but he was close to it. He was an authority figure. My mom was always tired from work, and my uncle didn’t like to be bothered. We weren’t good for my uncle’s reputation, I think.”

Verner was as still as a statue next to me. I had the odd notion of wanting to move closer, to press our arms together, but I quickly dismissed it.

“The man… The Hunter man”—I couldn’t bring myself to say his name—“insisted that I not tell anyone about our friendship. In hindsight, I can obviously see how suspicious that sounds, but I was seventeen.” I smiled wryly at my own stupidity. “I think the lie I told myself was that it would upset his kids. That they might feel jealous that their dad cared about me too. We were in the same training group.”

“What happened, Meera?”

It was faint, but I picked up the barest hint of a shake in Verner’s voice. His shadows rippled again, the movement far sharper and less fluid than usual.

“Are you angry?”

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