Page 55 of The Bones of Benevolence

“You and Tobyas had me to yourselves since the day you arrived in Eserene. Does it upset you that I’m spending time with someone else?”

“Aunt Berna, no.” I rubbed my chin with my palm, uncomfortable at the accusation in her stare. “I’m…happythat you’re happy. I just don’t ever want him to hurt you. But I’m always kind to him, right? Always.”

She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging, face softening slightly. “Youarealways kind to him. That’s one of my favorite things about you. You’re kind even to the people who you feel don’t deserve it.”

Of course I was. It was a promise I told my mother I’d keep. She told me the world wouldn’t always be kind to me, but I could be kind to the world. The world wasnotbeing very kind to me right now, and some days it was hard to be kind to the world.

“Do you feel he deserves kindness?” My words were small as I surveyed her face.

She gave a soft smile. “I do. He’s a good man, Cal. I just wish he could simply court me instead of stringing me along,” she said sadly, slowly returning to packing the salted meat into paper. She paused as I watched her cock her head in thought. “Promise me something.” She turned to me again, a fragility to her expression I’d never seen before.

“Okay.”

“Promise me, that when the time comes, you won’t string someone along. You’ll be intentional in your actions when pursuing someone, rules and laws be damned. Can you promise me that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that when you meet someone one day and find yourself with feelings for them, you won’t make them wait around for you.”

I gulped, surveying the look on her face. It seemed an easy enough promise to make. Members of the Royal Guard couldn’t marry, anyway. I’d never have the opportunity tostring someone alongas she’d said.

“Of course. I promise.”

She smiled, walking from the counter to plant a kiss on my head. “I love you,” she said against my hair before pulling back to look at me. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of the man you’re becoming. I’m proud of the big brother you were and always will be.”

I closed my eyes. I hoped I could prove her right one day, that I could be a good man. As she cleaned up the countertop and I blankly stared at a page about how kelpies rose from the sea, I thought of all the ways I’d prove Tobyas wrong — and prove Aunt Berna right.

Chapter 22

Eleven Years Ago

I looked over my shoulder, sure that someone was going to catch me and drag me to Aunt Berna for a tongue lashing. But no one stared at another person in a brown cloak walking through the district of Sidus on an early winter morning.

She always told me to stay away, that where I was headed was dangerous, that people were attacked in the streets for the cloak off their back or the coin in their pockets. But two and a half years of training with Tyrak had given me the skills I needed to survive a quick walk through the poorest district in Eserene. I was strong, tall, and easily able to defend myself should I need to. Tyrak had begun to train me to use a dagger, so I had some idea how to use the blade tucked into my boot.

The streets began to grow noticeably more destitute as I walked, the rough cobblestones looser and fewer as packed dirt streets took over. A fine dust hung in the air despite the dirty snow that lined the streets, and even as I held my sleeve to my nose, I felt it cling to the insides of my nostrils and stick to my throat. Houses got smaller and more dilapidated. People looked more haggard. Even the accent of the people changed. Prisma’s words were soft and rounded. The people here spoke in jagged, rough accents, their voices louder and hoarse with dust.

Inkwell.

I didn’t know what I was doing here. Didn’t really have a plan. Maybe I wanted to see if it was like where we lived in Taitha, if the people were just as poor.

They weren’t. They were much, much poorer.

Huddled figures littered the streets, gangly people doing their best to shelter from the early winter cold under threadbare cloaks. There was so muchnoise. People yelled. Coughed. Begged. Rickety carts bumped through the streets. Rats skittered underfoot. Loose shutters blew in the frigid wind. Even in the cold air, the stench was overwhelming, and I shivered at the thought of what it would smell like when the snows melted and the sun was beating down.

Lord Castemont had told me a little about Inkwell. He led a small group of Low Royals to bring handouts of bread and meat for the neediest people in the district every so often. I’d always admired that. It wasn’t a task given to him by King Umfray. It was something he did because he wanted to help those who needed it most.

He’d been good to us, always there to lend a hand, always there to comfort Aunt Berna on the days she missed Tobyas the most. Those days were growing fewer and further between each day, but the Lord didn’t leave. He’d keep her company while I trained with Tyrak, which, these days, was almost constant. So I supposed I was coming around to the Lord. I guess.

He still hadn’t gained the approval to court my Aunt Berna, even after two years of petitioning the High Royal Court. It’s not like it made a difference, though — the two of them acted as nauseatingly in love as if they were in an official courtship. It was just a part of life by now, a part I had unfortunately grown used to.

What I hadn’t gotten used to was the fact that no one so much as looked my way as I entered Inkwell. Gaunt faces trudged by as I turned onto Gormill Road, the main road in the district. The anonymity was actually kind of nice. I was so used to being gawked at by strangers that saw me. First for my height. Then for the unusual color of my eyes when they got a closer look. But in Inkwell, no one batted an eye at the cloaked giant walking down Gormill Road. Everybody was focused on something more important. Survival.

Between the shops and homes that made up one side of the road and the city wall that made up the other, the air felt lighter. Far less imposing than it had on the side streets. Gray daylight shone on the people walking through. Old women clutched wicker baskets. Men hauled crab traps and fishing poles on tired backs. Small children tugged on their mothers’ cloaks.

No one tried to rob me. No one threatened to hurt me. No one did any of the things Aunt Berna said they would do if I ever set foot in Inkwell.

They were all just people. People trying to make it through. Put food on the table. Keep their families warm and sheltered. Aunt Berna had been wrong. The people of Inkwell weren’t dangerous. They werehuman.

---