He’s so close now, I can feel the heat of his thigh on mine. I try not to shiver from the contact.
“On my first deathshriek raid, I vomited so much that I fainted,” he says. “By the time I woke, the raid was already over.”
“What?” I turn to him, astonishment building. This is the first time he’s told me this. We’ve talked about his time at Jor Hall, but never this.
“Disgraceful, isn’t it?” He shrugs. “There I was, covered in my own vomit, when they woke me.”
“How old were you?” I ask, curious. Despite the time we have spent together training, I still don’t know much about Keita’s earlier life – but then, he doesn’t know much about mine. We both have secrets we want to keep.
Keita pauses now, his eyes far away. “Eight,” he finally replies. “I was eight.”
My eyes goggle. “Eight?” I repeat. Keita is seventeen now, which means he’s been raiding deathshrieks for nine whole years. “Why would anyone take a child on a raid?” I ask, appalled.
“I insisted,” he says with a shrug. When I turn to him, he explains. “The deathshrieks had just attacked my home, killed my family – my mother, my father, my brothers… I wanted to avenge them. It’s not easy, going from being the youngest to being an orphan in the blink of an eye.”
My stomach lurches, everything making sense. Now I understand why Keita’s so desperate for revenge, why he isn’t as carefree and joking as the other boys. If everyone I’d ever loved had been murdered all at once in such a horrible way, I’d be closed off too.
He smiles thinly, a sad, bitter expression on his face. “In the end, I couldn’t even stay conscious for the beginning of it.”
I’m so horrified, I place my hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t tell you.” He shrugs again. “It’s all right, I suppose. You don’t become lord of Gar Fatu without someone dying first.”
“Gar Fatu?” I echo. I remember distantly Keita’s introduction on our first meeting, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Gar Fatu is the name of the region where Father served during his military tour. Then: “Lord of Gar Fatu?”
I’d always thought Keita could be aristocratic, but an actual lord? And of Gar Fatu, of all places? Gar Fatu is the last stronghold guarding the border between Otera and the Unknown Lands, one of Otera’s most strategic castles. Why is he here with us instead of at court, doing whatever it is fancy lords and ladies do? His family is one of the important ones, the nobles. At least, it was. They’re all dead now, which is why he’s here.
When I look up at him again, he’s giving me a rueful smile – an expression that isn’t reflected in his eyes.
The sight of it wounds me. “Don’t do that,” I say abruptly.
“Don’t do what?”
“Pretend like everything is all right when it’s not. Make horrible jokes to hide your pain. I know what it feels like to lose a parent. To lose your entire family. You don’t have to pretend with me. Never with me.”
Keita seems startled as he looks down, his golden eyes peering into mine. Finally, he nods. “I won’t do it again,” he agrees.
“You swear it?” I extend my little finger to him just as I used to with my mother, until I realize what I’m doing. I quickly retract my finger.
To my surprise, he picks my hand up, intertwines his little finger with mine.
“I swear it,” he says and nods.
We sit there, fingers intertwined, as the night air cools around us. The rest of the camp seems to recede in the distance – the other alaki milling around, the recruits huddled together around a board game to calm their nerves. Finally, the silence becomes too much. I awkwardly remove my finger, clearing my throat as I do so.
“Did you go on any raids after?” I ask. “After the one where you vomited, I mean.”
Keita taps his feet against the ground. “Countless,” he says. “That’s why I was assigned to Jor Hall. I’d seen more deathshrieks than all the jatu there combined, even though I was only a recruit, so they decided I wouldn’t be out of my depth overseeing a few alaki. Then they decided to send me to the Warthu Bera. It was a much more fitting match for me, they said. I had to give up my rank, though. Now I’m just a lowly recruit, like the rest of them.”
“You’re much more accomplished than I ever imagined,” I say, impressed. “I’m glad you’re my uruni.”
Keita grins, a glimmer of teeth shining behind his lips. The breath shallows in my throat, my whole world suddenly hanging on that expanse of white.
“Just wait till we finally go on the campaign and I spend days without washing. My odour will impress you more than anything you’ve ever smelled in your life,” he says.
I giggle, charmed despite myself. “Stop joking, Keita, I—”
“Apt words, alaki.”