Calaster Goforth was tired and bored but nobody cared at all except him. His eyes had glazed over at some point during the discussion, fixed on Eadric's expressive hands. They were restless, his hands; their movements were eerily refined, almost spiderlike. Certainly not human. Certainly not.
Those ashen, overlong fingers did a few deliberate pirouettes before Cal realized that Eadric had noticed his disinterest. A glimpse of bottomless eyes yielded laughter. "If you're fond of those eyelids, you'll keep them open," Eadric advised. "Can't have you drifting."
A wintry gust breathed through the bedroom, teasing the lantern. "Excuse me for seeming under enthused," Cal said. "I'm actually rather fond of Gladius."
"No accounting for taste."
"And he'll have my hide if we fail."
Eadric lounged in the chair opposite, an arm draped over the back. "I told you," he replied. "I have a plan. I always have a plan. Even my plans have plans. Quit brooding."
"But it's treason, Eadric. And I disapprove of Peter."
He blinked, owlish. "You don't like him?"
"It's not a matter of like or dislike. It's just a bad fit."
After a moment, Eadric shrugged. "I won't know until he's marked."
Flippant, as usual. Calaster should have expected it. "What about the other one?"
"Anathema," Eadric scowled. "Ethos is incorrigible. He's too skittish, too hard to pin down. He's like a deer or a rabbit or some similarly obnoxious vermin."
"I wasn't talking about Ethos."
A wrinkle formed in Eadric's brow. "The jackal?"
Cal nodded. He sat forward on the edge of the bed, hands clasped. "I had the privilege of meeting her the last time Wolfgang called me north," he explained. "She left a strong impression."
"She's volatile. I like her. Ronen would kill me if I chose her."
"Ronen's dead, thanks to you. And Anouk is a grown woman now."
Eadric's beady eyes drifted. "She reminds me of Syan."
Calaster heaved a sigh. "I'm tired of you shitting all over my candidates, Eadric," he grumbled. "I need to know if your affiliation with the Battlefrosts is going to continue being an issue."
A mild threat, but a threat nonetheless. Stillness pervaded the room. Eadric mirrored him and sat forward, aligning his sinister fingers. "Ethos is afraid of her," he said. "He sees her in his dreams. This, of course, means she'll be involved regardless of our decision."
Cal studied him. "Why is he afraid of her?"
"Is attraction not frightening?"
Cal didn't know what to say to that, so he glanced outside. "It's sundown," he said. "What's the plan if he gets difficult?"
"He won't. It'll be over the moment he steps in the door." Eadric rose from the chair, hand gliding over its weathered top rail. "He only has himself to blame," he said. "I tried to warn him. Attachments are the traps that our enemies ready beneath us."
Cal purposefully kept his voice low. "You told him that?"
"Not in so many words. I did warn him, though."
Quiet, at first. It wasn't lasting. "Why?"
Cal thought for sure that Eadric would snap at him. He didn't. "Ethos isn't long for the world," he explained. "The future, the past, the present… it's all muddled together in there. Frankly, I'm impressed he can form a sentence." His expression changed. "He's never seen past winter. He understands why, as I now do. There's no harm in having given advice to a dead man."
Cal frowned at him. "This winter?"
"This winter. He'll be lucky to have a month left in him." His arachnic fingers drummed along the chair. Mindless. Uncertain. "Which means the other Battlefrosts will shortly be getting their feet wet," he said, and he made for the door. "I'll have a better grasp of it once Ethos calms down."
Cal stood grudgingly, old bones protesting. "Are the other two aware?"
"Not unless he's told them since this morning."
"But you doubt that he has."
Eadric glanced. His notorious smile took a caustic twist. "Trust is arguably his greatest failing," he answered. "He has no faith in people."
"Don't you prefer it when they're jaded?"
"Yes," he said. "But it's possible that I sympathize."
Cal followed him into the hallway. "How abnormally considerate of you."
Eadric laughed, a pale ghoul of amusement. "Don't misjudge me, boy," he replied. "Doomed souls have always resonated with me. I'm never kind."
Boy. Eadric was in rare form. "He's with the tono."
Eadric didn't ask how he knew. He slowed in the corridor, black eyes gleaming. "It could easily be a bluff," he mused. "He's of a questionable enough constitution."
"And if it's true?" Cal asked. "What then?"
He scowled a bit. "Brute force bores me, but I'll have to put an end to the game if he returns with a murder of huntsmen. There's nothing more annoying than being outnumbered." Eadric groaned as if the very thought had provoked him. "Why must everyone resist me?"
"People don't like to be exploited, Eadric. That may come as a shock."
They descended the stairs. A glow from the fire had spread to the living area. Una was kneeling by the room's forward window. Elegant. Slender. Her turned back seemed smaller than it normally did. Cal had to say her name several times to garner any kind of response.
Dazedly, like a drunk, Una glanced over her shoulder and greeted, "Calaster."
Ozwell was seated in the chair in front of her, head tilted back, his face in her hands. His pale blue eyes were wide as could be. "Una," Cal repeated, wise enough to stay put. "What are you doing?"
She smiled for him, dazzling, and said, simply, "You know how I am."
"That man's not right in the head, Highness. If you have questions, come to me."
Her gaze moved to Eadric. Her dazzling smile dispelled. "Eadric Haraldson," she observed, rather nastily. "Another face to hide behind. Monster."
"How fascinating," Eadric said, on approach. "Have you already forgotten that you tried to have your own father murdered?"
She sneered, "As if you know."
"Oh, I do. I've gained a fresh perspective." Eadric slowed. He was very quiet for a long, unsettling moment. Perhaps to make a point. "You're not indispensable," he said. "I'll do to you what I did to your grandfather if you've made Peter useless to me."
"I've done what was necessary."
Cal descended the last few steps, catching her eyes. "You've started a treacherous cycle, princess," he said. "You hide the damage by doing more, delaying and worsening the inevitable."
She insisted, "The honest route is no good, Calaster."
Cal mourned the man he'd been in his youth. "It's shameful."
She bristled, but Ozwell quickly seized her wrist, looking briefly like he wasn't sure why. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, the confusion in his eyes disappeared and turned a bright, unspeakable green. "Some people don't deserve absolution," he said. "But you're not one of them."
Una held his hand. "How can you be so sure?"
Ozwell smiled a little. A checkered glimpse of teeth. "We'd want nothing at all to do with each other if none of us ever made mistakes."
"You're nicest when I want it the least."
"Only a woman as stunning as you could possibly be so insecure."
Like it hurt, she asked, "You think I'm stunning?"
"Of course I do. I'm not blind."
"Well, you don't nearly say it often enough." Reminded, perchance, that they weren't alone, Una glanced over her shoulder at Eadric. Her eyes flashed with dislike before quickly returning to Ozwell. "I can hold them off," she said. "Tell me what to do."
Ozwell's gaze had followed hers and lingered across the room. "I'm already gone," he said. "You can do as you like. It won't matter."
Peter entered the house at that moment. Whatever he'd been up to beforehand had him flushed, but he wasn't so far gone as to overlook the sight that awaited him. He stopped at the threshold and took a step back when all eyes leapt to him at once. The silence was thick. A creature bayed somewhere in the gathering darkness.
Cal stepped forward. "Is he with you?"
Resolved to his task, Peter bent to retrieve some gear he'd left by the door. "He's gone rogue," he muttered. "I couldn't stop him."
Calmly, Eadric asked, "Do you know where he went?"
Peter angrily slung the bag over his shoulder. He turned. "You're Eadric, right?"
Eadric didn't hide his derision. "In the flesh."
"Aye, then he's off to get himself killed thanks to you."
"Me?" Sidelong, Eadric pouted over at Cal. "Am I that repulsive?"
"You backed him into a corner, Eadric. You should have known he'd react poorly." Cal addressed Peter from the foot of the stairs before Eadric could form a reply. "It's going to be okay, Peter," he promised. "Did he say where he was going?"
"Oldden." Peter's eyes jumped away, wide with a mix of worry and anger. The side of his face was all turned red. "I should've done something."
Grave again, as if by a switch, Eadric made his approach. "Peter," he said, and just as easily won the room. "I want you to slow down and listen to me carefully."
Una leapt to her feet, jaw set. "Don't," she snarled. "Peter's off limits."
The snarl sounded all wrong, coming from such a pretty face. Exhaustedly, Eadric glanced back at her and said, "You're not supposed to fall in love with the people you're assigned to."
"The assignment was just a reason to stay. I was never loyal to you."
"Wrong. You were plenty loyal." Eadric fully turned to face her, but stopped when she braced to attack. "Do you actually believe a day went by that I didn't know where you were, what you were doing, or who you were with? You? Sole heir to Karna?" His lip curled in disgust. "Imbecile. You betrayed them just by being there."
Eyes wild, she answered not. The notion was frightening, yes.
After a pause, after a sigh, Eadric gave a shrug. "I'm annoyed again," he said, like he somehow couldn't believe it. "But I suppose there's plenty to salvage." To Peter, he asked, "What else?"
Peter had gone dark. His eyes only reacted when Una glanced at him. But still he said nothing. As she stared, hopeful, hurt, afraid, he backed out through the open door and disappeared into the night.
"Stay." The last had been Ozwell; he'd risen to prevent Una from making chase. Cal hadn't even seen him move. "Leave him be," he instructed, speaking reason. "It's too soon."
She pointed after Peter and cried, "But I need to tell him."
"Tell him what? That you're sorry?"
Her hand fell. "I am."
"I know. But it's too soon."
Eadric was staring hard at Ozwell, and spoke when the latter took notice. "It's impossible to ignore you when you're being this conspicuous."
Rather tamely, Ozwell asked, "Have we met?"
"What are you after?" Eadric demanded. "What's in Oldden?"
A small, subtle smile. "I'm going to find your body and set it on fire."
Eadric advanced on him. "Your family reunion must not have gone according to plan."
The smile faded. No need to confirm the obvious. Ethos gently moved Una aside as if to remove her from the line of fire. Defiant, he warned, "I know who you are now."
"Statistically unlikely. I'm up there with Rumpelstiltskin."
"You're Sutter Bonesteel. You're from the old world."
Eadric laughed outright at him. "Did the tono tell you that?"
"They did," Ethos said. "They also said you were nicer in the early days."
A wave, dismissive. "Rubbish. I was never nice."
"But I see you're not denying the rest." Ethos crinkled his nose. "Someday I'd like to know exactly what it was that made you such a foul excuse for a human being."
"Then I suppose I should foil your brilliant scheme to find me. My existence requires a proper sit down." With just the tip of his finger, Eadric reached out and touched Ozwell's chest, stirring confusion in those commandeered eyes. No longer smiling, he said, "Know your place."
Ethos underwent no visible change. No shift in expression. No anguish. No pain. An explosion of bright crimson blood simply showered the room behind him, thicker bits sticking to wall and sliding. His honest lens of confusion persisted.
Poor boy. He didn't understand what had happened.
His legs failed him rather quickly. Eadric guided him back into the reddened chair. "Easy does it," the hellborn sighed. "I'm guessing you ended up here by accident. Am I right?"
"Oubi," Ethos replied, blinking rapidly. "Una was— I thought she was going to— "
"Ah. So you were protecting Ozwell. How blandly noble of you." Eadric went in for a closer look and swiftly burst into laughter. "Gods alive," he leered. "Are you stuck in there?"
Unfocused, Ethos felt for the wound in Ozwell's chest. "Hurts."
"Yes, I'm sure. In like a penny, out like a pizza."
"What's a pizza?"
"Never mind that. But it's amazing that you can still move." No reply. Eadric snapped his fingers, testing for a reaction. Curiously, he asked, "Are you still here?"
Ethos took a mild oath. "So annoying."
"I can tell you how to get out."
"I don't do what you do."
"No, surely not. Nobody does what I do. But advice is advice and I certainly hope you're not so damaged as to experience a dying breath out of spite."
Cal kept his eyes on Una, fearing she might intervene. She was frozen in horror, knuckles white, hands fisted as if to fight. He found it likely that she'd never seen bloodshed before— let alone a geyser of it, hot and masking half of her face. "Stop playing with him, Eadric," Cal cautioned, lest the scene escalate. "It's ugly. If you're not going to help him, finish the job. You're cutting into my bath time."
Eadric scowled over at him. "Don't you ever lighten up?"
"No. And I don't share your idea of fun."
"But he's so much like me."
"Yes, and the fact that you're standing there tormenting him speaks more to your character than it does to his." Cal gestured about. "My home is a mess. I'm tired."
Una lunged, exposing a knife in the folds of her sleeve. Metal flashed. Eadric took a hit to the shoulder. More blood spilled, darker this time; its rotting stench overpowered all else. He foiled her second attack barehanded, cleanly taking the blade through his palm until she was close enough to seize.
She let out a rare cry of panic, and Cal had to employ an iron will to remain in place, perfectly still, while Eadric coerced her into a chokehold. Breathing obstructed, she clawed at him blindly, lips parted, desperate for air. Her feet kicked— frantic, at first. But then she slowed.
Eadric knelt with her, careful not to slip on the rug. "You really were the ideal," he told her, and it sounded like he meant it. "Calm, for now. Enough struggling."
Ethos watched, flesh ashen. "Please don't kill her."
"Oh, don't be boring. You know I won't."
"I can't help it. It looks like you're killing her."
Eadric spared him an irritated glance. "Aren't you dead, yet?"
"I think I'm missing some of my spine." Hearing himself aloud, Ethos despaired. "Not mine," he remembered. "Oubi's. I'll have to avenge him."
"You're not an avenger, Ethos."
"Be gentle with her neck. I like her neck."
And that was all he managed to say before the color vacated his eyes. Eadric seemed untroubled by it; he went about business, taking Una's nonresistance as a sign to dump her onto the floor. "Set me on fire, he says," he grumbled. "Impertinent cub. He'd better pray I don't find him first."
Cal asked, "Shouldn't you be more concerned about this?"
"I'm plenty concerned," he replied. "He's probably following Alyce's scent. He suspects that I'm in league with her, using her to smoke him out."
"Did you tell her the truth, then?"
"No. I can't. That girl hates me as much as she loves me. There's no telling what she'd do." Eadric sat against Ozwell's leg and pulled the knife out of his hand. He sighed, "I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry. Go home, Eadric."
"I suppose I should." With a groan, he let his head roll back. He stared up at the ceiling for a while before speaking. "You'll look after my corpse, won't you?"
"Do you think it'll keep the night?"
"Very funny."