32. Brett

He was angry with me. That was the only answer.

Right?

I'd never been as unfamiliar with the shift as Paris was now. I'd known almost since birth that it was possible, and someday I'd be able to do it. So with the confidence of a child who knew no other path, when the time had come, I'd simply shifted.

Paris had gone on instinct. He hadn't failed or faltered, hadn't struggled to fly like even I had the first time.

But I hadn't warned him.

I had betrayed him.

So he was perched on the back of a chair at the end of the table, glaring at me, instead of trying to shift back.

"Do you think he doesn't know how?" a nervous Rosaline asked. "I don't know how to help. We don't learn about it in school. We just... watch and do."

Because it wasn't a teachable skill. It was instinct. Even if I had told Paris it was possible, that wouldn't have helped him do it. The only way to learn shifting was by shifting. The same with flying.

Not that any of this removed my culpability. Even if I couldn't have told him how, I could have told him that it was a fact. That he could now become a bird. Shown him my own hawk to demonstrate that I wasn't just drunk and making up stories. That responsibility still fell firmly on my shoulders, and it always would.

I'd been too afraid to do it. Afraid he'd run straight back to Urial and tell them, and it would start a new war we had to fight.

But again, it didn't matter if I had a good reason. I'd lied to him by omission and left him groping in the dark.

It was unforgivable.

"This is the most depressing cresting I've seen in my life, and I've been on the wall for a Crane's cresting," Orestes announced, pulling out a chair at the dining room table and crashing into it with a yawn. He turned to meet Paris's eye, treating him not only as though he were seated in human form, but as though they'd already been introduced. "They do it on the wall. Drag those little adolescent Cranes up into danger and show them the carnage of war for the first time. Tell them that this is their war now. It's now their solemn duty to protect Nemeda from the southlands, and their lives belong to the land. The blood of the land, they call themselves. From the land the Cranes came, and to the land they belong."

Paris blinked, over and over, clearly shocked, even in his new form.

Orestes, like the barbarian he was, but his feet up on the table. No surprise, since he'd spent a third of his life in Crane lands, and the Crane never stood on formality. Comfort was more important to them than manners, since life could end at any moment, and suffering for the sake of people's silly rules was pointless.

But as much as he had no manners, Orestes was also wily, like any Eagle. He knew what he was doing. "See, the southlanders know about us. Some time ago, one of them was infected with Avianitis, found his wings, and went home to tell them all about it. They came and demanded birds for all of them."

Paris gave a full body shudder. No surprise. He knew what it meant, even if he didn't remember much of the illness. I'd told him of its toll.

"I don't know if they didn't believe us, or if it just didn't matter, and they were fine with most of their population dying of the fever, so long as they got what they wanted." He shrugged, letting his head loll back against the chair back, and sighed. "Either way. It didn't matter that it would kill them. It didn't matter that we don't control the illness, not really, and couldn't just give them what they wanted. They decided if they couldn't have the winds, neither could we, so they were going to kill us all. So we've been at war with them for generations now. And the Crane, being the clan on the border, spend their entire lifespan fighting the southlands' pointless war. Lives wasted on a fight that has no resolution."

Rosaline shivered and pulled her blanket tight around herself. "I heard that before the war, the Crane Clan were artisans. Metalcrafters without match in all the world."

Orestes nodded, and without thought, so did I. Everywhere in Crane lands, there were signs that their people had once been incredible artisans. At the pinnacle of the Crane fortress on the wall, was a shining metal bird with a wingspan bigger than any two houses. It seemed light and perfect despite being made of metal, as though at any moment, it would take off and fly away. I hated to imagine how much of their wisdom had been lost during the years of war. A people who had been capable of such creation, now wallowing in a war forced on them. It almost made me want to cry.

Clearly, Rosaline felt the same, because she was wiping her eyes with the corner of the blanket. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Paris. I... I should have. We do trust you. You're one of us. I was just... I was just afraid."

"You should be less afraid," Orestes told her, gruffly, meeting her eye. "The matter of my sister is closed. The challenge has been made and lost, and that's the end of it."

Paris gave another full-body shake, like he had something to say to that, and narrowed his eyes at Orestes. I didn't know what that meant, but maybe he was still annoyed with the fight.

"That was my fault," I announced. "I thought we could just do it, get it finished, and not have the whole damned town watching."

Orestes shook his head. "I love you like a brother, Hawk, but you're out of your mind. They had to see it. Had to see me being the villain, so that if anyone ever asks, they thought I meant to end you. What's the point of me challenging if I wasn't going to try to follow through? My father knows I love you like a brother. I told him so when he suggested Clio marrying you. I don't know what the damned old serpent had in mind when he arranged it, but he knew I approved of the match. If he had the slightest notion I let you off with no fight, he'd demand another challenge."

And wasn't that a horrible idea?

We sat around discussing things for a while, sometimes speaking directly to Paris, to make it clear that he was a part of the discussion, even if he wasn't taking an active role, but eventually, both Orestes and Rosaline were drooping, ready to nap after the eventful early morning, so I suggested we all take a break and rest before lunch.

As much as I didn't want to leave Paris on his own, well... what the hell else was I going to do?