With the mood restored, I asked again, "Is anyone else brave enough to request something from my childhood?"

Sagan said, "I have one."

I smiled at her, always happy to answer her questions. The look she gave Korac beforehand wavered my certainty a bit.

Sagan asked, "What was Nox like as a brother? You've given a few examples, so I'm not exactly looking for a memory. Maybe a summary?"

"Tell us, Superman. What was he like?" You're poised over the coffee table. Those bright eyes are full of so much... need. You need the answer to this question. You need to know what Nox was like from his little brother's perspective.

I wish you needed anything else from me.

The room waited for me to respond, holding a collective breath.

"Sagan?"

Like the young soldier I'd trained, she straightened at my call. "Yes?"

I pointed at the furthest volumes where Tameka had returned the first. "Grab volume three and read the entry on page seventeen."

Sagan's eagerness was infectious, banishing some of my anxieties about the topic. Then she read, "Today, I counted how many times father grabbed my brother by his robes. Eight. Yesterday it was ten. And tomorrow it will likely be more of the same. All day, father pulls Nox by his clothes with hateful words.

"'Come here, heathen.'

"'Look at me when I speak to you.'

"'Never turn your back on me, or do I need to teach you some respect?'"

Still lingering on the ladder, Sagan lowered the tome to peer at me. Her violet eyes were filled with sadness as she said, "This is awful. How old were the two of you here?"

The eyes in the room ping-ponged between us.

I said, "In that entry, I was eight and Nox was fourteen. We know from his Verse that he underwent full Weapon conversion at seven and easily defeated father shortly after. But, knowing Umbra as we do, the King of Cinder still threw his weight around. While Nox rarely rose to the bait and could easily dispense of father with... Korac, how would you describe the look he coined just for Umbra?"

"Embodied retribution."

"Elegantly put."

Sagan smiled at both of us before asking, "So, what happened?"

I gestured with my hand for her to turn the page. "Go to volume six. Page one hundred and twenty."

"Heathen, I forbid you to go!" Umbra shouted at my brother's door.

Nox, who had lingered in the doorway, turned his back on father.

I spied them from a tunnel between our chambers and dreaded the consequences of my brother's actions. Only fidgeting with the splinter of the nacre around my neck kept me silent.

Like always, Umbra reached out and grabbed his son's robes, jerking Nox back into the hall—

Lightning fast, Nox slipped out of them, twisted them around our father's neck, reared back, strangled him.

I hid myself further, as my brother followed our father to the stone floor. The latter gagged and hacked for air. The former was ice cold and so very done—

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"Release your father, my son."

I peered at mother, trembling in the hallway after having her sleep disturbed. To my surprise, Nox glared at her and tightened his hold on Umbra's throat.

Nox said, "I grow tired of his hands on me."

"Then stop wearing your robes," Savis offered this as if it made utter sense. Not as if she were excusing Umbra's part in the conflict. "Your father will have no purchase on you."

The next thing Nox said only made sense in hindsight of him discovering her rebellion, her willingness to have me murdered, and Nox usurping Umbra's throne. "Sensible, as always, Lady Savis. Yes. Let me disgrace this family with my lack of decorum to better reflect the savagery contained within these walls." He let Umbra go and never wore a shirt again.

Sagan asked Korac, "Did you know about this?"

Korac took another drink before answering, "I knew before I arrived on Cinder, he'd refused to wear top dress. That he detested fabric on his skin. I tried often to coordinate armor and other such things between the three of us, and I knew not to include a shirt for Nox.

"In fact, the only time I can recall him wearing one..." Korac glanced at me, and I waved him on. "Was when Rayne came to the fortress for their dance, Nox had dressed in a silk shirt I'd tailored to fit him should such an occasion arise. Still, he refused to button it."

Preteen you is staring at your notebook and all the words I can't see from across the room. It's almost as if you're searching them for meaning. After another moment passes, you mutter, "Why did he bother?"

I wince, and the preschooler version of you kisses my cheek. "All better."

If only it were that easy.

Back to my study, Korac requested, "Tell them about your first drunken night."

I wasn't entirely sure why I'd share that one—

He raised a brow at me.

Oh.

Fine.

Nox and Korac raided Umbra's stash of Reipon spirits to get me drunk. I was fourteen. Too young, of course, but... We floated on our backs in some spring we found while caving in Li Mountain. Somehow, the conversation drifted toward our future partners. Ideal attributes and such.

I entertained this theory that Icari sought characteristics in partners, male or female, which best reflected a lack in their present lives. A thirst for something out of reach.

I asked, "What would you seek in someone, Nox?"

My brother splashed me, getting water all over my face. When I glared through soaked lashes like a drowned rat, he caved. "Fine. Fine. I would want someone..." The pause wasn't pensive. It was heavy. A little sad, and now I know why. His voice was so quiet when he said, "Someone kind and brave."

Korac snorted into his bottle. "They'd have to be."

We laughed like hyenas. Unnecessarily loud with the echo, but all in good humor.

When Korac didn't volunteer, I went next. "Someone brilliant and extraordinary."

Korac glanced at me with... something. It prompted me to ask, "What about you?"

He shook his head. Before taking another drink, he said, "Not touching that one."

Nox respected our guard's privacy, but I had a burning need to know, which I didn't fully understand. "What? Someone exceptional? Gorgeous? What is it, Korac?"

Staring at the ceiling, he muttered, "Someone forbidden."

Well, that stopped my prodding. What kind of answer was that?

Korac kissed Sagan before saying, "An accurate one!"

"Twice so."

Astute observation, Rayne. I'm glad someone else caught it.

Karter asked the next question. "In my son's Verse, he asked you to confirm the frequency of Nox's happiness. How often you could remember him smile."

Para patted Karter's leg with an expectant look on her face. A few faces waited for the answer.

I sighed.

"Why, Superman?"

Because I don't want to think of my brother as a tragedy that I should forgive after he was my enemy for so long.

"Can you forgive him?"

Can you?

You don't answer the question. Neither version of you. Instead, both of you say, "End on a happy note."

I did. I told them the truth. "His smiles weren't common, but if I could get one out of him, I felt like the hero. I'd saved my brother with every grin, smirk, or chuckle."

"I'll drink to that," Korac said, as he toasted me.

The entire room toasted.

Stealing smiles from adversity. A trademark of the Shadow.