After hours of listening to insults and bodies colliding with furniture and each other, it had finally stayed quiet downstairs long enough for Kiran to breathe. She was not looking forward to the pitiful looks she would get tomorrow from the neighbors who shared a wall between their two homes. Who needed pity? Didn’t keep food on the table or ox dung in the fireplace, and certainly didn’t have the power to shame her parents into behaving. At least her family was on the end of the row. Only one set of nosy asses to ignore.

Kiran let her eyes close once her mother’s mournful cries faded enough for her to sleep. She was warm, at least, thanks to the pelts she’d finished stitching together into a blanket a few days ago. Everything good in her life were things she’d managed to cobble together, with very few exceptions. As she fell asleep, one of those exceptions started rapping on her shutters.

That sound brought deeper relief than the silence ever could. Kiran smiled in spite of the circumstances as she tossed off her covers and quickly stole to the window just a few steps away. She knew Ryland would not be there so late if he wasn't having a bad night, but after listening to her mother and father wail for what felt like years, she couldn’t help but be glad for a little purpose.

She unlatched her shutters, catching them with practiced hands before the icy wind could throw them against the house. Kiran then maneuvered to give her friend a hand. “Hurry up,” she whispered.

Ryland scrambled over the sill, half falling to the floor in a pile of limbs. He was well practiced in making the climb up to her second-story window, so he was usually much smarter about taking his time and planning his landing.

Tonight was not a good night. Not for anyone, it seemed.

“Shhh!” Kiran latched the shutters back, then went for her candle and flint next to her cot. “What’s going on, Ry?” she whispered as she ignited the wick and listened for her parents.

The gangly youth said nothing as he pushed himself to sit up against the wall under the window. His rough, rushed breath that pushed through his teeth and nose spoke loudly enough.

Not good. Kiran turned and brought the candle up to see what had dragged him halfway across Fort Salité tonight. Looked like Ryland’s right eye was starting to swell, and it was the sort of red just underneath that would absolutely be turning black.

“Spirits,” she hissed in a whisper. Kiran grabbed the earthenware cup she kept near her candle and opened her window again long enough to fill it with snow and leave it on the ledge to chill through. Hopefully Ms. Lila or Vael were awake to see.

Then Kiran slipped down to sit near Ryland, her toes toward the wall and close to his hip, and she waited for the anger to settle enough for him to talk.

Tears streamed down his chilled face, even if he refused to outright cry. When he did finally speak, it was from frothing lips. “Fucker….”

“No shit,” she said, her impotent ire on the rise. “What was he on about this time?”

Ryland shook his head. His answer was short, biting, and it was all he could do to keep himself from screaming. “He hit her.”

Kiran’s face fell from active concern into a deceptively placid place of quiet disgust. Mr. T’Vair was deep into his cups tonight, apparently. “She okay?” Did Ry’s mother need Ms. Lila first?

Ryland shrugged as he turned his head. “Don’t care,” he hissed. He sucked in his cheeks. “…Sh’told me to apologize.”

Apologize? Kiran needed to check her own impulse to yell before she spoke. “What did you have to apologize for?” She glanced at the door to her room. They hadn’t been caught in years—she really didn’t want this to be the night.

“Because I shoved him, and then he fell over a chair!” Ryland opened his eyes as he looked up to the ceiling in flaming rage, then set one shaking hand over his eye. “He was gonna kill her, he…”

“Serves him right,” Kiran spat as she got back up. She retrieved the mug from the window, pressed it into his free hand, and then guided him to set it against his undereye. There was still some bruise cream left in the pot Ms. Lila had given her, but it wasn’t going to touch that shiner.

Ry did as he was wordlessly told, but he clenched his teeth as he did. “He can fucking die for—”

“Rylan’!”

He froze, and his entire face dropped wide open as he heard his father’s echoing scream. The drunk didn’t always come looking for him. When he did, though, it was never safe to answer.

Kiran stilled, doing her best to keep her wrenching stomach from affecting her face or posture. She knew she wasn’t succeeding, but if she could manage to be calmer than Ryland, it was worth the effort. “You covered your tracks?” she whispered, and she breathed a little easier when he nodded.

“Rylan’!” His father continues to call, his booze-grated voice carrying over the fort. Degenerate was gonna wake everyone at this point. Ryland and Kiran’s fathers would have made a perfect pair if they didn’t hate each other for seeing their own reflected vices.

The two youths sat in silence, waiting for the calls to stop. They didn’t end cleanly though. Instead, they were interrupted by pounding on the door of the house just across the alley that separated Kiran’s row of connected homes from the next.

~~~

The yelling had already started pulling Vael from his sleep, but the pounding on the door startled him the rest of the way. He sat up with a soft gasp, then he covered his mouth. His uncle. Had to be. Nobody else had the indecency. Ma would take care of it, but if the drunk really was at their doorstep, then Ryland was in trouble.

Vael shifted from under his covers, and he let out a trembling breath as his toes instantly felt the chill. No time to be delicate, though. He ran for his chest on the opposite wall and pulled out a pair of pants, a knit sweater, and one of his older, tighter shirts. It would do in a pinch to keep the stupid sacks on his chest in line.

By the time he came down most of the stairs, his mother was at the door in her nightclothes, her right foot just behind it so her brother couldn’t force it open further than a crack. She held a long hunting knife behind her back. “I said he isn’t here.” Ma kept her voice low and even as if she were talking down a bear.

Vael’s uncle was about as good as listening as a beast, unfortunately. “Then where is he?!”

“I don’t know. But he isn’t here.”

“Damn it, Lila!” He banged on the door with the heel of his hand.

Ma’s grip on her knife tightened. “Petir, you are going to wake Vael."

“I don’t care what your fag little—”

Now the knife came out, just enough for him to see. “Go. Home. Petir. I will see you in the morning.”

The brute growled, but he stomped off. Ma closed the door on her brother, leaned against it, and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath.

Vael descended the last few steps. “Ma?”

His mother opened her eyes, and she instinctively moved the knife behind her. “…Get the basket, please, sweetheart.” And she turned back around to bring the bar down to barricade the door.

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Neither Ma nor Vael needed to check for any of Kiran’s signals. If Ryland wasn’t there already, he would be soon. Vael hurried back upstairs to the storage closet and grabbed the big, upright basket fitted with straps, threw it on his back, and rushed back down with it. His mother was already working on filling wooden travel bowls with the stew she always had going on the hearth, so he set the basket down to help fit them with their lids and tie them in place. Anything to keep busy. Anything to keep from thinking about what state he’d find his cousin in.

Didn’t help enough. “Mama, can’t Ryland just live with us now?” It wasn’t fair. The T’Vair family name was respected, so his uncle could get away with being a horror? Their ancestors couldn’t possibly approve of this.

“Not until his father stops coming ‘round here,” Vael’s mother said. “We’re all three of us safer if his father doesn’t know where he gets off to.” The fire highlighted the peaks of her face, which emphasized every crease she’d earned from hard living in the fort. She was still beautiful, though. The sun had blessed her heart with its warmth and her instincts with its fire. Whatever he might be, he did hope to grow up to be as much like her as he could while still being himself.

Anger rose up in Vael’s throat, not for the first time. “Why doesn’t the Watch do anything?” Uncle Petir was one of them. A captain, no less. Surely they couldn’t approve of behavior like this.

His mother looked at him, and she pressed her lips together in a sad smile. “It takes hard men to do what he does, Vael. Not everyone is brave enough to stand up to hard men.”

“You are.” Vael finished knotting a third bowl of stew.

She handed off the last bowl for him to tie cord around. “Well, it’s not easy to be brave, sweetheart. Takes practice. When you’re done with that, go get a few pairs of socks. Kiran probably needs new ones, too.”

Vael nodded, and he made quick work of the knot while his mother went on gathering contents for the basket. He then ran upstairs, fetched three pairs of the thickest, newest socks his mother had made, and hurried to get them into the basket.

Once it was loaded up and Vael had his snow gear on and a hearth brush in hand, his mother helped Vael into the basket. “Stay there tonight, if it’s safe,” she said as she tightened the straps. “Just remember you’re due at the forge in the morning.”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Tell them to open the window if there’s danger. Don’t set out any lights.”

“I will.”

Then she unbarred the door and looked out for a long while, making sure the streets were quiet. When she was satisfied, she let Vael out, then closed and barred the door again.

It wasn’t easy, walking backward so he could brush away his steps from the snow with a full basket, but he wasn’t new to the task. It didn’t have to be perfect, just enough to keep obvious steps from showing up before they could be filled in. He glanced up as he heard his mother open the window upstairs so she could keep watch. That made him feel better. Fear, anger, disgust—despite it all, her calm reminded him he couldn’t put those ahead of the duty he needed to perform. And he would see it done.

As soon as he got to Kiran’s building, he climbed up the ladder built into the side in case of fire. A big ask in the biting cold and while wearing gloves, but Vael wouldn’t shirk. He would be brave. Then, now, and every time after.

~~~

Ryland startled, even though the knock on the rafters above was soft and short. He can’t have found me, it has to be Vael, he told himself as Kiran got to her feet. He better not get caught. It’s your fault if Vael gets caught, he’s just a kid. You’re just a kid, but you can take care of your own damn self—

“He’s gone, Ry.”

Kiran’s voice snapped him back to reality in a way that just being aware of his surroundings could not. Ryland let his eyes fall closed as she helped Vael inside. He’s gone, Ry. He’s gone. Reminders helped. But only a little. The knot in his throat remained strong, even if he could breathe through it now. He knew there wouldn’t be consequences for crying in front of Kiran and Vael, but he was a man, damn it. More of a man than his father.

The chill of the snow carried up by the wind rushed in as Kiran helped Vael through the window. His cousin had brought the big basket this time, looked like. “Hey,” Vael grunted as he made footfall and got help from Kiran to remove his load. “Your dad’s a prick. Pretty sure Ma will actually stab him one of these days.” He settled down next to Ryland and put an arm around his shoulders.

“Really wish she would,” Kiran sneered as she took the basket to the floor and started going through its contents. The first things to come out were bowls of stew and a couple of large loaves of bread. Thank whatever ancestors decided to actually do their jobs for once—Ryland was starving. “I don’t care if he’s the captain,” she went on as she doled out the food. “The whole fort’d be better off.”

“Only if I get to watch.” Ryland scowled at the walls, but he took the bowl of stew when it was pressed into his hands. Maybe he should stay there a couple days. He knew how to get in and out of Kiran’s house safely. Her parents made it easy, obsessed as they were with each other, and Kiran never minded the company.

“Ma said I could stay over tonight.” Vael untied his travel bowl’s string as he settled his shoulder against Ryland’s. The kid didn’t like seeing pain, but he’d been learning how not to draw more attention to it, much to Ryland’s relief.

Thank the ancestors. You don’t need anyone fussing over your stupidity. Ryland set the mug of melting snow to his eye again as he clenched his jaw shut.

While Vael kept talking about needing to make sure he got to his apprenticeship in the morning, Kiran poked Rylan’s leg. He looked her way and was met with her raised eyebrow and a finger pointing to his stew and the hunk of bread she’d just handed him. Yeah. He wasn’t any less hungry. Just more…too much. He set the mug down and started in on his late dinner. “Thanks…” The gratitude was for everyone: Kiran’s reminder, Vael’s delivery, Aunt Lila’s care, even the ancestors who’d gotten off their dead asses to cover all their backs.

Kiran pulled a large leather bladder of goat’s milk out from the basket and set it on the floor in easy reach of all of them, then smiled as she discovered three pairs of woolen socks. “Here.” She threw a pair onto Ryland’s legs for him to put on later. Then she smiled more as she dug out a candle. Nice touch. Kiran’s parents would notice if she needed a new one too soon. It was how they’d been caught the last time. They didn’t care much about what happened in that house as long as things stayed quiet and cheap. She set it aside under her bed, then pulled out the last of the basket’s contents. “…Looks like Ms. Lila sent new stories.” Kiran nudged Ryland’s booted foot with her bare one.

Ryland immediately looked over his bowl of stew to see a truly precious commodity—a thin book bound with loose leather and sinew. One of the few things being part of a respected family of war heroes had ever gotten him that he actually wanted was the chance to learn to read. Anyone wanting to rise in the ranks in this Kyarian fort needed to learn different types of communication, for internal affairs and correspondence with the nearest city of Veriki down south. That came with the perks of finding entertainment in the odd bound story traders would bring up. Ryland couldn’t always find ways to afford such things, but his aunt had apparently been thinking of him with the last caravan. And she’d thought of sending it to him now. When his unattended thoughts were at their worst, insisting he didn’t deserve this sort of love. His eyes started burning.

Kiran settled in on Ryland’s other side with the book and her supper. “Who’s turn is it?”

“I think I’m up,” Vael replied, holding out a hand for it.  “We wanna start from the beginning or pick and choose?”

“We can check the titles, see if anything jumps out.” She handed it over to Vael over Ryland’s head.

Rylan nodded. It was all he could manage. Any sound coming from his tightening throat would give him away.

While Vael flipped through the story collection, Kiran fixed Ryland with a look. He tried to appear like he didn’t notice. You don’t need a lecture. You know you’re pathetic. Ridiculous to think. Kiran never lectured. But there was a first time for everything, by his estimation.

Not today, though. She set her food aside, picked up the socks she’d set on his legs, and moved down to relieve Ryland of his muddy boots.

Ryland watched her for a moment, as if he’d left his body and was observing her work on some project or craft. As she got his first boot off, though, he remembered himself, and he leaned forward to get rid of the other. “Sorry,” he managed to croak out.

Kiran swatted at his hand, and she finished her task with a wry smile. “S’fine. Eat.”

Ryland stopped, sat still, and then hugged himself. …And his lips started to quiver. She was safe. Safe from his parents, and safe from himself. She'd keep him warm and calm him down as much as she could. He would survive tonight.

Vael wrapped an arm back around his shoulder, pulling him gently over to rest against him.  “Hey, it’s alright, cousin,” he whispered.

Kiran nodded, patted his newly socked feet and scooted to sit next to Ryland again. "We've got you, Ry." She snaked an arm behind him and put her head on his shoulder.

And that was it. Ryland broke down, covering his face with his hands as he cried hard, but as quietly as he could…

Eventually, he calmed down enough to be quiet and exhausted. The three of them made a haven of the corner of the room, gathering Kiran’s blankets to get comfortable, grateful for their new socks, and enjoying their warm food while Vael read out loud. Ryland kept his snowy mug to his eye when he could, while he still had strength in his arm to hold it up, and he demolished his portion of stew and bread and milk. He stayed awake as long as he could, cuddled between the family he wanted and the family he chose.

Someday, they would actually be safe. He’d make certain of it. Lila wouldn't have to threaten assholes with a knife. Vael wouldn’t have to run and watch his back as he snuck into other houses in the middle of the night. Kiran wouldn’t have to be silent and hidden and cover for them all. And Ryland…he’d be done with the pain. The idiots who abused power. The idiots who let the powerful be abusive. He would put an end to it. Someday.

That was what carried him through to sleep as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier...