All I know of Inviernos is bloodshed and cruelty and rage and..." Her voice trails off as tears fill her eyes.
"And me," Storm says softly. "You know me.
Storm leans towards her and says in a teaching voice, "Joyans consider it is rude to express one's true opinion unless it is unequivocally flattering."
Her brow furrows. "Then how do the express anything at all?
Weren't you scared?" I ask.
"Yes. But it was a good scared."
"There's a good kind?"
"Oh, yes." Her voice drops so low I have to strain to hear. "Orlin made me scared all the time. Scared I would starve. Scared I would get too cold. Scared he would hurt me again or get so mad he'd throw me to one of the men. That was nasty bad scared." She pauses, scuffing her boots against the floor. "But you never hit me, even though I'm your slave... You always feed me. You call me my true name. Now when I'm scared, it's not because of meanness. And today, I chose my own scared. It's always a good scared, when you get to pick it your own self.
Tag: elisa red-sparkle-stone
Do you realise what you've done?" he says.
"I believe I just succeeded in using magic to pass your gate," I say. "Doesn't that make me an animagus?
Storm explains, "Joyans find Invierno names complicated and incomprehensible."
I glare at him. Storm and I were going to have a conversation about 'complicated and incomprehensible" versus 'over-wrought and inefficient'.
I could heal you-"
"No," he says, sharply enough that it startles me. "Everyone is dead. Gavin, Jedro, Melita... All gone. My life, my friends. I lived for the blink of an eye. But I've been dying for a very long time.
Belén shrugs. "It's a perfect plan."
"As easy as falling in love," Mara adds.
"Foolproof," Hector agrees.
I don't deserve such friends. I blink against the sting of threatening tears and say, "All you Joyans are filthy liars.
I love you, too," he whispers in my ear. "Wholly. Madly."
"Does that mean you'll marry me?"
"I suppose.
Don't be daft, I love you."
He grins, "You've never said.
We have a saying. My people call it 'choosing the path of fewest lashes.'"
"That's terrible," I murmur; half to myself.
"You mistake 'terrible' for 'different,'" he says. "You have a similar say, do you not? 'The lesser of two evils'?
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