"Enough," he said. "Taunt me about anything else. Not her. Understand?"
Brendan lost his cocky edge, and there was a flare of anger in his face, quickly damped. He nodded. "Maybe I'm just out of sorts, you having got a girl to comfort you, and me having nothing but mocking you for it," he finally said. "You remember what I left behind in Alexandria, don't you?"
Jess had forgotten, but Brendan had spent months there, wooing a young woman who worked for the Archivist . . . a lovely, intelligent woman whom he'd professed not to care about. But there was something he recognized, twin to twin: heartbreak. When his brother had left Alexandria, he'd left his chance of happiness behind, too.
"When all this is over, go and find her," Jess said. "I imagine she'll forgive you. Everyone does, for some insane reason."
"Even you?"
"Even me, Scraps." Jess patted him on the cheek, none too gently; it was half a slap, and then a scuffle when Brendan retaliated, and soon he had his slightly younger twin in a headlock. He marched him to the breakfast room door and sent him packing with a boot in his ass, and when he turned back, he saw Glain still placidly eating her egg.
"Brothers," she said, and shook her head. He grinned and slid into the seat across from her with his toast and coffee. "Unbearable creatures. Though at least mine were straightforward. It must be close to hell, having one nearly as clever as you. Like watching an angel struggle with a demon."
"I'm no angel."
"I didn't say which of you was which, did I? Shut up and eat, Brightwell."
"You seem uncommonly cheery."
"I'm not. All this"-Glain gestured at the hall, the tapestries, everything-"makes me itch. How long before you and Thomas have that press built and working?"
"We'll start today," he said.
"Good. Because I don't half trust all this. Or you."
Jess sat back and stared at her, because he hadn't expected that. It was blunt, and utterly serious. "Why?"
"I can see you thinking. And I know that look, Jess. It's not a good thing. You and Dario, whispering together-that isn't good, either."
Jess ate his toast and tasted none of it. She was waiting for an answer. He didn't have one to give.
Glain didn't take that well. She stood up, pushed her plate away, and came to loom over him, one hand on the back of his chair, one pressed flat against the table. "Don't," she said. "Don't lock me out. You can't trust Dario."
"I don't," he said. "I don't trust anyone." He sat back and looked up into her face. He could see the look that came into her eyes. "Disappointed?"
"Angry." She almost growled the word. "Furious that after everything we've been through, you're this stupid. And you're not doing this."
"No?" It hurt, looking into her eyes this way. Seeing everything he liked about her. Everything he knew wasn't going to agree with him. "What exactly am I doing, Glain?"
"I'll be watching you," she said. Her voice had gone low and calm, and it reminded him of how Santi got still and strangely happy when things were the worst. "And if it comes to it, I'll break your bones to convince you not to be ridiculous. Because that's how much I like you, Jess: I'll hurt you to save you. Count on it."
She shoved his chair forward, bruisingly hard, and then she was gone, abandoning her breakfast to stride out with hard thuds of boots against wood. Jess pushed himself back from the table, rubbed his sore ribs, and finished his toast.
He'd hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but he wasn't much surprised. Glain was observant and decisive, and he was going to have to take that into account. She expected no better from him, though she hoped for it.
The only one he was absolutely certain he could fool, when it came down to it, was Khalila, and only because of all of them, she was the one who trusted without reservations. He remembered her in the cell in Philadelphia, claiming them as family. For her, trust, once given, was unbreakable without real proof of betrayal.
///
He wished he didn't have to break that trust so completely.
But you must. So let it begin.
He drained his coffee and went in search of Thomas.
The workshop they'd been given was set up in the vast old carriage house, where a blacksmith's forge had been replaced with a more modern furnace, something capable of producing high-tempered metals. Jess found his friend hard at work already, which didn't surprise him at all.