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“Never mind, ignore that.”
Or answer it.
What were they? Sebastian had been asking himself that for days, but as he came to the door to the kitchen, he realized that answering that question was his responsibility now. Leon had come clean about where he stood. The question now was, where did Sebastian stand?
“Sebbie!” His father’s surprised greeting derailed Sebastian’s train of thought, and Sebastian gladly let it wreck, too overwhelmed to consider it. “You’re up early.”
“Morning, Dad.” Sebastian smiled at his father, who stood barefoot in the kitchen with a cup of klak, his hair sleep-mussed, but his eyes bright, just as he had for as long as Sebastian could remember him. Sebastian hopped onto one of the stools by the counter and tapped his own forehead. “Apparently, Leon can’t sleep in here. He’s been up all night.”
His father’s face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. It didn’t occur to me.”
Sebastian shrugged. “How would we have known?”
“Well, your mother’s downstairs getting the body ready.” His father topped off his mug and nodded toward the drawing room and their most used tunnel. “We can go now.”
“Is the staff coming today?” Sebastian asked as they walked back down the hall.
His father shook his head. “No, we’ve told them that Sarah’s come down with something. We should have the house to ourselves.”
“Ask him if there’s been any word from the capital,” Leon ordered.
Sebastian cringed. He’d momentarily forgotten about that, so caught up in Leon’s presence and their situation.
“Have you heard anything from the Resistance?”
“A little.” His father nodded, opened the drawing-room door, and motioned for them to precede him. “Martha got in touch.”
“Martha made it?” Relief flooded out of Leon.
Relief that Sebastian mirrored, though to an admittedly lesser degree. “Martha’s alive?”
“She made it out through the tunnels with at least a dozen others.” His father opened the armoire and its false back, then started leading them down the stairs into their own tunnels. “The capital’s been lost. All it took were a few Klah’Eel shock troops. But the Resistance is very much intact.” He threw them a surprisingly devious look over his shoulder. “I’d have loved to see the look on Klah’Eel command’s faces when they realized Leon Hess got away after all.”
Sebastian snickered. “You’ll have to record a speech, Leon. We’ll beam it out to every station we can reach. They’ll shit themselves.”
Leon seethed with righteous anger, and Sebastian could imagine him so clearly, standing straight and solid with a cold and determined look on his face. “Good.”
They turned down a different corridor than the one Leon and Sebastian had come up, and after a few paces, got to a door. His father pulled it open and motioned them inside. “Here we are.”
“Sebbie!” His mother smiled at him from over a prone body on a gurney. “You’re up early.”
Leon felt amused as he poked at Sebastian. “How late do you normally sleep in?”
“As late as I can,” Sebastian replied shamelessly. “You should try it sometime.”
“Give me back my body and maybe I will.”
Sebastian laughed and entered the room. “I’m going!”
His mother raised her eyebrows. “Something funny?”
“Leon’s just being impatient.” Sebastian shrugged a shoulder, but then his parents exchanged a look, and he frowned. “What?”
His mother gave him a placating smile. “Nothing.” She gestured to the body: a young man with a jagged scar from the edge of his right jaw to the tip of his left collarbone that must have been his undoing.
“How did he get like this?” Leon radiated discomfort, amplifying Sebastian’s. “Your parents didn’t—”
“No.” Sebastian shook his head quickly. “We don’t do that anymore if we can help it, haven’t for generations.”
