2. Killian

CHAPTER TWO

KILLIAN

B rett was happy for the first time since we'd gotten word about his father's illness. Rosaline was happy, despite her youth and innocence being ripped at by the viper Clio and her equally poisonous father, Memnon, thankfully both of whom were dead. Paris, while I knew him rather less than the others, was happy, and the beautiful, pleasant young man who made my friend happy deserved that. Paris's sister Helena was happy, flirting with Minerva, the two of them seeming like there was no one else present at the wedding, turned toward one another, eyes wide with excitement and speaking fast.

Me? I wasn't so thrilled.

I didn't mind leaving the wall for short periods, to attend meetings of the clans. I certainly didn't mind attending the wedding of a dear friend, or seeing Brett so damn happy.

What I minded was seeing Otus, shamed head of the Falcon clan, speaking to Paris's brother Hector.

Not that I was jealous. Jealousy was a strange creature, foreign to the Crane Clan, that I'd never experienced. No, I didn't like Otus speaking to Hector, but it was more because it was Otus than because I didn't want Hector speaking to men.

Even handsome men.

That bastard Nestor had spent almost an hour flirting with him the day before, and it had been funnier than anything else. Especially since Hector had been adorably oblivious to the Duck's ardent efforts.

But Otus wasn't flirting. He didn't want Hector. What he wanted was to sow discontent. He'd been an ally of that murderous bastard Memnon, and while he didn't have Memnon's killer instinct, he still wanted to twist his dagger in whatever way he might be able to.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Hector broke away from him, looking pale and wan, his eyes darting around the crowd. Oddly enough, he headed straight for me.

He didn't greet me when he reached me, just blurted out, "Paris doesn't have to go to the wall, does he?"

I stared at him blankly for a moment, confused. Paris on the wall? The boy was getting married. Why would he be coming to the wall? Even if he'd been younger, he'd never been the type of person the clans sent to spend a year on the wall. He was the type of person the clans sent someone else to proxy for on the wall. Someone like Brett, who'd spent nearly five years fighting at my side, four of which had been taking the place of four other members of the Hawk Clan. Or Orestes, who'd been on the wall almost a decade. Admittedly, his was more because he wanted to be there than because he had specific clan members to proxy for.

I shook the thoughts from my head and looked back to Hector. "No, of course not."

"But the Falcon said he did," Hector countered. Fuck, but he was cute when he looked at me like that, all suspicious and maybe even a little annoyed. "He said everyone spends a year on the wall."

"Well," I said, lifting my hands defensively and nodding, "I wouldn't say it's wrong, exactly. Nemedans all either spend a year on the wall, or someone does a proxy year for them."

"So he's right." Hector was breathing hard, like he was considering panic, then he stopped and looked at me. "What's a proxy year?"

I motioned toward where Brett was sitting with Paris. "Brett did Rosaline's year, so she wouldn't have to go. People sometimes do it for family. But really, you don't have to worry about it. You?—"

"Are you saying we're not Nemedans?" he demanded, his back going straight and annoyance glinting in his golden-brown eyes.

Fuck, but I wanted to kiss him. He was something else, even the first time I'd seen him, trapped in bed and suffering, but full of steely resolve. His hair had spread dark against his pillow, his beard unkempt, and still, he'd compelled me.

Instead, I shook my head. "Of course not. But it's sort of... a coming-of-age thing. Most people do their year on the wall when they're twenty, and Paris is past that."

I wasn't sure how else to say, simply, that I didn't expect it. Technically, yes, they should probably all three spend a year on the wall. But I thought maybe Hector and his family had been through enough, having paid their dues by the misfortune of being born in Urial. Hector had almost been poisoned to death by his own people, for fuck's sake. So yes, I was ignoring the rules for their sake. Because they were unique among Nemedans, having come from elsewhere, there was no precedent.

It wasn't as though I would get in trouble for it. My clan was the one people did those years for.

Hector wasn't budging, though. He shook his head, looking like nothing so much as a bull about to charge. "If all Nemedans spend a year on the wall, then we'll do our duty. But... but proxy years."

"You can have three of mine," I offered, easily. I'd been on the wall since I was a child. My mother had first taken me up when I was ten.

His eyes narrowed even more, into slits. "I will spend three years on your wall. When should I come?"

A chill ran down my spine. Paris... well, he was the sort of man who someone proxied for on the wall, but I didn't doubt he'd make my life hell if I put his brother's life in danger. Somehow, I suspected that if I tried to tell Hector no, he'd do the same.

So slowly, I nodded. "Okay. Well, you can come whenever you like. You're always welcome in Crane lands. If you and your family decide that you're going to spend three years on the wall, I will place you. However, I'm going to need you to do me a favor first."

The anger turned to suspicion, but he nodded. "What?"

"You're going to have to tell your brother that I told you this wasn't necessary, so he doesn't murder me in my sleep." I turned and gave Paris a bright smile over Hector's shoulder, and he was giving us a suspicious glare that looked rather like Hector's. Clearly, he knew something was going on.

But it wasn't going to be my problem.

Except that I already knew it was, because Hector was going to make it my problem. I sighed and headed over to get another mug of mead.