He hated blood. He hated the strange, salty odor accompanied by the ghost of metal against his tongue, hated the way it tainted everything scarlet as it oozed past. He hated bleeding even more—there was nothing more sickening than seeing the disgusting essences keeping his body alive suddenly leaking outside.
A prick of pain drew him from the depths of his mind. He blinked, his eyes landing on the dagger and whetstone in his lap as he refocused onto the world around him; icy wind sliced past his cheeks and whistled through the courtyard, tangling itself between the branches of the wilting jacarandas and stoic statues. A bead of crimson balanced perfectly on the tip of his finger, slowly growing as he stared. He pressed his thumb into his finger pad. The bead swelled.
“Brother!”
The boy jerked, blood breaking from its orb-like shape and dribbling into his palm. He raised his head pointedly as a little girl jumped from behind a nearby statue. “What is it this time?”
“You cut your finger again!” The girl scampered towards him, waving a handkerchief clutched in her grubby fist. “Here, to stop the bleeding.”
A scowl darkened the boy’s brow.
“I don’t need your help,” he snapped.
His tone barely diminished the girl’s bursting excitement. She pouted, skidding to a halt as she reached him. “Of course you don’t, silly! You’re Brother Khanh, and you never need anyone’s help.”
Khanh raised an eyebrow. “You dare mock me?”
“I’m not mocking you. It’s only true!” The girl giggled. She thrusted the handkerchief towards him again. “But even so, a bit of help could always make things easier, right?”
Pressing his lips together, Khanh stared at the cloth. An embroidered snake stared at his glistening palm, peeking out from behind a shimmering, golden fan.
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Recognition of the design flashed across his narrowed eyes, and his jaw stiffened.
"Did Lord Nirin send you?" he snarled. The cut on his finger and his reddening palm sat forgotten; only the boiling blood pumping furiously between his ears mattered now. "What a nice present you've given me, Little Mai. Did you think I wouldn't notice the designs so delicately embedded into the cloth?"
As his lip curled in a sarcastic laugh, the girl's smile began to fall. Confused, she glanced at the snake, then back at her brother. "I don't understand. Papa said you would like it-"
"What are you, a dog?" Khanh sneered. "All you do is follow him around and obey his every command. Do you simply believe everything 'Papa' tells you? Don't you ever try to think for yourself?"
Mai stepped backward. Her brother's rage didn't make sense to her, and if anything, scared her more than anything she had seen before. She whimpered.
Khanh stood up, his dagger clutched in his bleeding hand. "Little Mai, why don't you give this scrap of cloth to your older brother," he taunted, pitching his voice lower as an imitation of their father, "who only lives and breathes for nothing more than the ridiculous symbols I've had the maids sew?"
He swaggered forward towards his trembling sister, head held mockingly high. "I'm sure this will help him well in his hours and hours of training." His voice swelled with sardonic venom. "It's not like that delinquent son of mine does much else, unlike my cute little Mai, who has all the time in the world to do whatever she'd like."
A sudden gust of wind forced its way between the two siblings, and the handkerchief broke free from Mai's grasp. The cloth fluttered to the ground.
With a heavy stomp, Khanh crushed the snake into the dirt. He leaned forward, ignoring the tears pooling in the little girl's eyes.
"Go back to your Papa," he growled, "and don't even think about coming back here."
He reached down and snatched the handkerchief from beneath his foot. As he shoved the filthy cloth into his little sister's hands, he leveled his dagger in front of her chest.
"If you do," he said, "you might get hurt."
Color drained from Mai's face. Then, without sparing another second, the little girl turned and ran.