Grasping at Shadows [1.1/5] (Suikoden II, Jowy and the Highlanders)
back to part one
Luca slams both fists onto the table, and it groans so loudly that Jowy thinks it'll crack. "How many times?" Luca roars, sends his chair crashing to the floor as he stands. Jowy flinches at the sound but stays where he is, out of Luca's path and hopefully enough out of his sight. "How many times has he gone up against a pack of Toranese dogs-"
"Your Highness," Kiba says, "I believe they enlisted aid from-"
Bad move, Jowy thinks, just as Luca shouts, "Shut up!" He moves faster than he has any right to in armor that heavy, and seizes Kiba's cloak before Kiba gets out of the way. "Are you defending that sack of shit to me?"
Kiba's forehead shines, the skin under his beard reddening. "Your Highness, this is unseemly."
Luca snarls and shoves Kiba towards the toppled chair, though apparently not hard enough to knock Kiba over the way he knocked over it. That's strange. Jowy would expect Luca to lay Seed or Culgan or Rowd out flat for addressing him like that, but Kiba merits different treatment, at least slightly. Why? He should look into that-but not now, because Luca looks ready to rip the tent from its moorings and set the canvas on fire.
"How many times did Solon Jhee fight that fat idiot and his squealing little herd of swine and disgrace himself?"
"Two, your Highness," Kiba says, and closes his eyes.
"And it would have been three if that one hadn't cut that cunt's throat and saved us the trouble." Luca jerks his thumb at Jowy, and Jowy draws himself as upright as possible, breathes in deep and slow and even. His fists are curled again. Damn it. Why hasn't he trained himself out of that yet?
The tent flap rustles before Luca has a chance to look Jowy over any further, but Jowy doesn't dare sigh in relief. "Your Highness," a messenger says, not rising from his deep bow, "there's another report from the front." He holds it out to Luca, the paper quivering, and cringes when Luca snatches it from his hand.
Luca's barely begun to scan the report before he crushes it in his fist, his teeth bared and almost frothing, and try as he might Jowy can't look away. "You're telling me that Solon Jhee lost to some kid? The Second Highland Army ran away from some damned kid with a flag?"
The blood drains from Jowy's fingers, and his pulse roars too loudly in his ears to make out Luca's next string of curses. It can't be. No. He told Riou to leave, to take Nanami and Pilika somewhere safe, and he wouldn't drag them into danger. He wouldn't. He can't.
"I should cut you down right here for handing me this piece of crap." Luca unsheathes his sword, the messenger grips his shaking knees, and Jowy steels his jaw, forces himself not to look away. "Go. Bring me your commanding officer, and then I'll decide what to do with your worthless hide."
The messenger scurries out of the tent and almost tangles himself in the flap on the way out. Luca watches him leave, snorts, starts to pace around the perimeter. "A kid," he says, his sword still out. "Some snot-nosed little shit. If Solon Jhee lost to that, he's not fit to lead a pig to a pisshole."
There were other people Riou and Jowy's age at the mercenary fort. There might even have been a few younger. And Viktor let Riou lead a company, but surely he wouldn't give him charge of an army, would he? Something cold and ugly crawls up Jowy's spine.
Rowd bursts in, wild-haired and out of breath, and it's easier to resist the urge to punch him when Luca might well do the job for Jowy. "Your Highness," Rowd says, "another bird just arrived from General Seed. He confirms-" Rowd looks at the paper crumpled in the dirt, swallows. "Uh, the previous report. Highness."
Luca growls like a mad dog, and Jowy's shoulders tense before he can stop himself. "I'm going to grab that kid's neck," he says, and grips Rowd's to demonstrate. Rowd chokes, and Luca's fingers tighten. "And I'm going to wring until it snaps. Like this."
Kiba cuts in, says something about hearing more of Rowd's report before throttling him half to death, but Jowy's only half-listening. The Rune pulses through his arm, under his skin, in his ears, drowns out the racing of his heart.
"Get out," Luca tells Kiba, and if Kiba's bow is almost short and sharp enough to be rude, Luca doesn't say anything about it. His fingers uncurl from Rowd's throat, and Rowd barely has time to gasp before Luca says, "Who is this kid, and why does he have an army?"
Rowd cringes as though he's already expecting Luca to strike him. It's pathetic, and Luca must think so too, from the way he huffs out something between a dry laugh and a snort. But then Rowd jerks his chin back and straightens, new color in his cheeks, and tries to burn a hole through Jowy with his glare. So much for staying unnoticed, Jowy thinks, and stares coolly back at him. And if Jowy's knees lock, if his tongue dries out, if sweat gathers inside his boots-well, neither of the other two men has to see it.
"Ask him, your Highness," Rowd says, and jabs his finger in Jowy's face. Jowy steels himself not to blink. "Northwind's commander's that boy who snuck into our camp with him. Riou's his name, and he and that one over there have been thick as thieves since I met ‘em."
It really wasn't supposed to happen like this. No. He can't panic. He needs to steady himself. If he freezes, or trembles, or agitates the Rune-it isn't worth dwelling on the consequences, that'll only make things worse. Jowy lowers his shoulders, lifts his head, and it takes everything in him not to flinch when Luca says, "Take your sniveling little messenger and leave my tent." He might be speaking to Rowd, but his glare settles on Jowy, and Jowy's gaze drifts to the gleaming edge of Luca's blade.
Rowd shoots Jowy one more scowl before hurrying out, and Luca advances, and if Jowy runs, he's dead.
"So you know that kid, is that right? How many secrets have you been keeping from me?" Luca rams the hilt of his sword under Jowy's chin, forces it up. "Tell me why I shouldn't have my men pry them out of you."
It's hard to form words like this, but he has to. "I didn't think that was a secret."
"Ha! Then why didn't I know about it?"
"You did know, your Highness," Jowy says, forces down a wave of irritation. "You saw us both at the fort, and you saw us both at the camp. He got away the second time. I didn't. And he wasn't commanding anything then."
"He is now. Did you plan that out with him?" Luca grins. It looks more like a grimace. "You kill the sow of Muse, that friend of yours takes her army, then you kill me and take mine. Heh. It's all perfectly stupid. Just like a pair of kids."
"I already told you I can't kill you."
Luca snorts, clocks Jowy across the temple with the hilt of his sword. Jowy's vision only slips out of focus for a moment, so Luca can't have meant it to do real harm. Luca's keeping him alive. For now. "Of course you can't. And watch how you address me."
"I didn't plan anything with him, either, your Highness," Jowy says, and wills away the memories of that night-and of a night not long before that one, when moonlight shone into the cell they shared with Nanami and Pilika, and Riou-
Gods, now isn't the time.
"I thought he'd left the City-States," he continues.
"He's their spy. Why would he?"
He wasn't a spy, Jowy wants to scream, but that argument isn't going to help him and it's pointless now, considering. He breathes, steadies his hands. "It doesn't matter why he would, your Highness, since he hasn't."
Luca laughs at that, and moves his sword a hair further away from Jowy's temple. "And what are you planning now? Will you betray your family and your country again, and run off and join him?"
"No, your Highness," Jowy says, and it's true. His throat stings. He swallows, pushes that down too. "He saw me kill Mayor Anabelle. He wouldn't take me back after that."
"Not if he has more brains than the gods gave a goose," Luca agrees. "Ha. You're not the easiest boy to trust, are you?"
"I suppose not." Jowy runs his knuckles over the bruise blossoming under his chin. It's not as tender as it could be. "Put me under watch if you like, your Highness, but I'm not working for Jowston-" Damn it, he can't choke now. "And I've cut any ties I had with their command."
Have you really," Luca says, and turns Jowy's face from side to side as though he's inspecting it. Jowy wants to hack that hand off at the wrist, and he needs to stop thinking about that before his Rune encourages him to do it.
"If you met that brat on the battlefield, what would you do?" Luca asks. "I bet you wouldn't have the balls to run him through."
He can't afford to ask himself that question, no matter how clear the image is in his mind: Riou's hand over the wound, blood seeping through his fingers, his eyes-no. But his Rune hums at those images, warms to them in a different way than it warms to threats. This is slower, tingling, craving. He might be able to use that. Jowy holds out his right hand and says, "You know what this is, your Highness."
"Yes. What about it?"
"The enemy commander has its opposite." Enemy. It stings his tongue. "If they meet in battle, it's in their natures to try to destroy each other."
For a moment, Luca is silent, and Jowy braces himself. Then Luca throws back his head and howls with laughter, and even if Jowy doesn't understand what's so funny it's better than being beheaded, so he keeps his mouth shut.
"Ha ha! It's Han and Genkaku all over again! This is priceless." His laughter trails off, and his smile curls up at the corners. "That old man was too soft on Han. He's too soft on everyone. Pah. If you sneak off to meet with that kid, or if you spare his life, I'll kill you. Understand?"
It wasn't supposed to come to this. "Yes, your Highness."
"Good. You're dismissed. And get Windamier in here. He and that son of his haven't shamed themselves in battle yet. They might still be of some use."
It's a strategy meeting, that's clear enough, and it's one Jowy isn't invited to. He needs to change that.
But it might be better if he doesn't witness this one. He's not sure how much attention he could pay to it.
***
Telling himself not to think about Riou is like telling himself not to think of pink dragons. The images pop into his head whether he wants them there or not, and the harder he tries to push them away, the harder they are to get rid of. Forbidding himself from thinking about that night makes it even worse.
He flops onto his side, dangles his arm off the edge of his cot. He isn't the only one in the tent anymore; three other soldiers share it with him, though only one of them's asleep now. Does that mean they trust him more or trust him less? It probably means Luca's decided that this is a more effective way of keeping him under watch. It's fine. Jowy's not stupid enough to sneak off now, and he doesn't know who in the high command might not have sworn themselves fully to Luca's service. Kiba, obviously, but Jowy doubts Kiba's the type to go behind Luca's back. As for the rest of them-well, he needs to prove himself before he can win anyone's support, and he hasn't had much opportunity to do that yet. Can he create that opportunity? He sighs. What does Highland need?
At least thinking about this keeps his mind off Riou.
-damn it.
Jowy tries to run through what he's learned about the Highland Army's strengths and weaknesses, the goals it hasn't achieved and the fissures in its ranks, but all he sees is Riou riding at the head of a battalion, Riou breaking through his shyness enough to address his troops, Riou tilting his face up to the moonlight. Riou's too kind for war. Riou would never knife anyone in the back. Jowy doesn't want him to. He and Nanami and Pilika should be across the border in Toran now, or somewhere further than that, somewhere even Luca Blight wouldn't march. Why are they putting themselves in danger like this? Why do they think Jowy left-
No, that isn't fair. They have no idea why Jowy left, Pilika least of all. He turns over, buries his face in his pillow. Maybe Riou agreed to take command so he could strike back at Jowy himself. Maybe Riou's Rune is whispering to him the same way Jowy's is, urging him to stand his ground and defend and protect. Maybe Jowy's being incredibly stupid and self-centered right now, but better now than when he's in front of the high command.
Maybe he shouldn't have waited so long to kiss Riou.
They were both staring up at the moon that night in Muse, the kind of moon that secret lovers met under in the stories Mother liked to read-though Jowy was trying not to think about those-and Jowy was already telling Riou at least half the things he'd promised himself never to share. How he spent hours trying to think of what to say to Riou and Nanami before they first met. How he had to fight down something sharp in his throat every time Nanami and Riou ran into Genkaku's arms and he laughed and carried them on his shoulders. And Riou's chin rested on his shoulder, and Riou's fingers twined with his, and his eyelashes almost glowed in the moonlight, and Jowy realized, somewhere, that getting entranced by Riou's eyelashes meant he should move away before he made a complete idiot out of himself.
He didn't move, though, and Riou turned his chin up and smiled in that way of his, more with his eyes than with his mouth. And then that mouth was on Jowy's, and thinking back on it Jowy's still not sure which one of them moved first, and that almost hurts more than knowing would. Riou's lips were chapped at the corners but still soft underneath that, and when he sighed into Jowy's mouth the sound warmed him all the way down his spine. Jowy had pulled and tugged on Riou's hair before then, when they'd wrestled or fought, but he'd never run his fingers through it like that, never stroked it and felt Riou shiver.
Then Pilika woke up, and they sprang apart. Jowy put Pilika back to bed. He shouldn't have woken her up in the first place. Riou said nothing, so Jowy curled up on the cot and tried to sleep, too. And the next morning, and in the days after that, well, they didn't have much time to talk about it. Things were complicated enough.
It doesn't matter anymore. Jowy clutches his pillow closer; his knuckles brush against the hilt of the knife, where he's decided to store it for now. The way things are, he's more likely to kiss Holy Hikusaak than he is to kiss Riou again.
The other soldier in the tent gives a tremendous snort, and Jowy could almost kiss him for the distraction. He tucks himself under his blanket and listens deep inside himself for the pulse of his Rune, lets that lull him to sleep.
***
The soldiers assigned to keep an eye on Jowy aren't being particularly subtle about it, which makes him suspect that he has at least one other tail who isn't making himself known. He'll need to figure out who that is soon, but he's not stupid enough to step out of line before he's earned anyone's trust.
So Jowy drills with Culgan and Seed, takes his meals in the mess when he isn't waiting on the high command, volunteers to assist the surveyors and rune sages and blacksmiths when they're shorthanded and he has an hour to spare. He even digs the fire-pits one evening. If the soldiers are surprised to see him-a nobleman's son, a convicted spy, Luca's adjutant, or whatever the prevailing opinion of him is-doing honest work, they at least don't seem to resent him for it. Jowy tries not to make a show of it. He asks questions when he needs to know what a tool's called or which scrolls go where or how high to stoke a fire, but otherwise does what he's supposed to.
Riou might not have spoken up much but he could get people to talk to him for minutes on end if he looked at them right. Jowy doesn't have that kind of ease with people, but he catches some of the men nodding when he finally scores a hit on Culgan or burns a target to the ground on his first try. Whispers still follow him when he walks through the camp, but their tone starts to shift. What they've seen him do might finally be starting to carry more weight than what they've heard about him.
There's only so much time he can spend among the enlisted men, though, with all that Luca has him doing. Luca may not be in the field now, but no matter how loudly he complains about that fact, he has more than enough to keep him busy. He reads every report the Highland Army's scouts and generals send, for one. He drives his dagger through some of them when he finishes reading them, but he reads them all. And he supervises his elite corps' drills every morning. How the White Wolves survive some of those drills Jowy doesn't know, but none of them complain about it afterwards. Jowy's responsible for briefing Luca on conditions within the army twice a day, once a few hours before noon and once at sunset. He learns what Luca does and doesn't want to hear soon enough, because Luca cuts him off with, "I don't care about that crap."
"Yes, your Highness," Jowy says, and makes a mental note to ask Seed why the armorers seem to be shortchanging the Third Company. "The prisoners of war from Muse-"
"Did they escape?"
"No, your Highness."
"Did they kill any of our men?"
"No, your Highness."
"Have they spread some disease to the rest of the camp?"
"No, your Highness."
"Then who cares?" Luca drains the last of his wineglass, slams it back down on the table. "Pour me more of this. No. Something stronger. This is almost water."
Jowy selects a better bottle and starts to pour when Luca grabs the hilt of the knife in Jowy's belt, and Jowy's glad he manages not to slop wine all over the table. "So you do still have it," he says.
Just in case, Jowy sets the bottle back down. "Do you want it back, your Highness?"
"Keep it. You've earned it, haven't you? Heh." Luca lets go of the hilt, pours the wine himself. "You never did tell me how it felt to kill that sow."
Jowy fights the urge to look down. "Different, your Highness," he manages. It's the only one he can admit to that's still true.
"Different from what?"
"Different from meeting her on the battlefield," he says, and searches for the right words to explain how.
He doesn't have to. Luca snorts and says, "Bullshit."
"What?"
"Bullshit," Luca repeats, matter-of-factly, and knocks back his drink. "Your enemies are your enemies whether you face them on the field or not. Stab them in the back, stab them in the front, what's the difference? They're dead either way."
Jowy shakes his head; Luca's watching him intently, his eyes sharp as a hawk's, but he hasn't drawn his sword or moved to stand yet. "But soldiers know they're putting their lives in danger, and they've agreed to do it. Civilians, children-"
"-should learn how to defend themselves if they're so afraid of dying. Why should the weak feel
safer than the strong?"
"So children should die for the crime of being children," Jowy says before he can think better of it, and Luca narrows his eyes, tightens his grip on his glass.
"Children die all the time, boy," he says. "Children suffer and scream and bleed, and half the time it's at each other's hands. The world's not kind to children. Why the hell should I be?"
Because they're innocent, Jowy wants to say, but his tongue locks in place. He remembers the children who used to chase him and Riou down, sticks in hand. One of them hurled a rock at Riou's temple once, and the gash on his head took so long to heal even with a Water Rune speeding it along. Riou's skull could have fractured if that rock had hit him differently, and the children would have been scolded for it, but they'd have kept chasing after Jowy all the same.
But what Luca's talking about isn't the same as that. It can't be.
Luca smirks, rising, and Jowy needs to stop being startled at how quickly he moves. "Do you know how your precious brats can save their little hides? Go on, guess."
Luca's going to tell him he's wrong, regardless of what he says, so he might as well keep his mouth shut. It's easier that way.
"No? I thought you had more ideas than that." Luca bares his teeth. "Fine, I'll tell you. If they survive, it's because they've learned what power is."
Power. Jowy closes his eyes and the word chimes in his head, resonates to match the steady thrum of his Rune. "What kind of power, your Highness?"
When he opens his eyes, Luca stares at him like he's grown an extra head-and claps Jowy on the shoulder hard enough to make his knees tremble, laughing all the while.
"What kind of power?" he repeats. "Ha! Damn it all, boy, don't tell me you forgot! Power's simple. Power is this-" He holds his gauntleted fist a hair away from Jowy's cheek, and Jowy fights not to flinch. "And power is this," he continues, indicating the sword at his side. "Power is death, boy! Power is holding pitiful lives in your hands and deciding whether you'll crush them or not, and there's not a damned thing anyone else can do about it."
Jowy swallows, and Luca circles him as though he's caught the scent of blood. "Your allies, your enemies, it's all the same," he says. "Either way, they die at your command."
No. There has to be more to it than that.
"But that's only true on the battlefield, isn't it?" Jowy asks, and tacks on a "your Highness" before Luca's scowl deepens any further.
"It's true everywhere. Pah. What, do you think it's any different at court? Those worms don't bow and scrape out of honor or loyalty or any of that crap. They do it because they're too weak to slice off that old man's head, and they know it."
Then why haven't you sliced off his head? Jowy thinks, but knows better than to say it. Saying it would mean his death. But staying silent for too long could mean his death, too, if Luca gets impatient, because even if Luca can't kill his father he can kill Jowy so easily, whenever he wants to. How is Jowy supposed to stop that? By killing Luca first? That's too simple, isn't it?
Is it?
How strong does he need to be to kill Luca Blight?
"Think about it," Luca says. "And then tell me how it felt to kill her."
***
Solon Jhee doesn't scream when they drag him off to die. He must have known it was coming. Out of the corner of his eye, Jowy sees Seed grimace; Culgan says nothing, but holds himself more stiffly than usual. Jowy files that information away. He can't act on it now, obviously, but if Seed and Culgan aren't Luca's men...
"First, we'll take Greenhill," Luca says, turning to face them again. "Will someone here volunteer for command?"
Greenhill. What does Jowy know about Greenhill? It's surrounded by thick forest, and its walls are even harder to breach than Muse's, if some of the soldiers' gossip is to be believed. Most of its soldiers are militia, and any one of the Highland companies surpasses its defenders in number. But size isn't a guarantee of victory. Solon Jhee learned that.
The tent is silent, and Luca snarls. "Is there a worthy general anywhere among you?"
It's an invitation.
Jowy accepts it.
---
--
on to chapter two
.
Luca slams both fists onto the table, and it groans so loudly that Jowy thinks it'll crack. "How many times?" Luca roars, sends his chair crashing to the floor as he stands. Jowy flinches at the sound but stays where he is, out of Luca's path and hopefully enough out of his sight. "How many times has he gone up against a pack of Toranese dogs-"
"Your Highness," Kiba says, "I believe they enlisted aid from-"
Bad move, Jowy thinks, just as Luca shouts, "Shut up!" He moves faster than he has any right to in armor that heavy, and seizes Kiba's cloak before Kiba gets out of the way. "Are you defending that sack of shit to me?"
Kiba's forehead shines, the skin under his beard reddening. "Your Highness, this is unseemly."
Luca snarls and shoves Kiba towards the toppled chair, though apparently not hard enough to knock Kiba over the way he knocked over it. That's strange. Jowy would expect Luca to lay Seed or Culgan or Rowd out flat for addressing him like that, but Kiba merits different treatment, at least slightly. Why? He should look into that-but not now, because Luca looks ready to rip the tent from its moorings and set the canvas on fire.
"How many times did Solon Jhee fight that fat idiot and his squealing little herd of swine and disgrace himself?"
"Two, your Highness," Kiba says, and closes his eyes.
"And it would have been three if that one hadn't cut that cunt's throat and saved us the trouble." Luca jerks his thumb at Jowy, and Jowy draws himself as upright as possible, breathes in deep and slow and even. His fists are curled again. Damn it. Why hasn't he trained himself out of that yet?
The tent flap rustles before Luca has a chance to look Jowy over any further, but Jowy doesn't dare sigh in relief. "Your Highness," a messenger says, not rising from his deep bow, "there's another report from the front." He holds it out to Luca, the paper quivering, and cringes when Luca snatches it from his hand.
Luca's barely begun to scan the report before he crushes it in his fist, his teeth bared and almost frothing, and try as he might Jowy can't look away. "You're telling me that Solon Jhee lost to some kid? The Second Highland Army ran away from some damned kid with a flag?"
The blood drains from Jowy's fingers, and his pulse roars too loudly in his ears to make out Luca's next string of curses. It can't be. No. He told Riou to leave, to take Nanami and Pilika somewhere safe, and he wouldn't drag them into danger. He wouldn't. He can't.
"I should cut you down right here for handing me this piece of crap." Luca unsheathes his sword, the messenger grips his shaking knees, and Jowy steels his jaw, forces himself not to look away. "Go. Bring me your commanding officer, and then I'll decide what to do with your worthless hide."
The messenger scurries out of the tent and almost tangles himself in the flap on the way out. Luca watches him leave, snorts, starts to pace around the perimeter. "A kid," he says, his sword still out. "Some snot-nosed little shit. If Solon Jhee lost to that, he's not fit to lead a pig to a pisshole."
There were other people Riou and Jowy's age at the mercenary fort. There might even have been a few younger. And Viktor let Riou lead a company, but surely he wouldn't give him charge of an army, would he? Something cold and ugly crawls up Jowy's spine.
Rowd bursts in, wild-haired and out of breath, and it's easier to resist the urge to punch him when Luca might well do the job for Jowy. "Your Highness," Rowd says, "another bird just arrived from General Seed. He confirms-" Rowd looks at the paper crumpled in the dirt, swallows. "Uh, the previous report. Highness."
Luca growls like a mad dog, and Jowy's shoulders tense before he can stop himself. "I'm going to grab that kid's neck," he says, and grips Rowd's to demonstrate. Rowd chokes, and Luca's fingers tighten. "And I'm going to wring until it snaps. Like this."
Kiba cuts in, says something about hearing more of Rowd's report before throttling him half to death, but Jowy's only half-listening. The Rune pulses through his arm, under his skin, in his ears, drowns out the racing of his heart.
"Get out," Luca tells Kiba, and if Kiba's bow is almost short and sharp enough to be rude, Luca doesn't say anything about it. His fingers uncurl from Rowd's throat, and Rowd barely has time to gasp before Luca says, "Who is this kid, and why does he have an army?"
Rowd cringes as though he's already expecting Luca to strike him. It's pathetic, and Luca must think so too, from the way he huffs out something between a dry laugh and a snort. But then Rowd jerks his chin back and straightens, new color in his cheeks, and tries to burn a hole through Jowy with his glare. So much for staying unnoticed, Jowy thinks, and stares coolly back at him. And if Jowy's knees lock, if his tongue dries out, if sweat gathers inside his boots-well, neither of the other two men has to see it.
"Ask him, your Highness," Rowd says, and jabs his finger in Jowy's face. Jowy steels himself not to blink. "Northwind's commander's that boy who snuck into our camp with him. Riou's his name, and he and that one over there have been thick as thieves since I met ‘em."
It really wasn't supposed to happen like this. No. He can't panic. He needs to steady himself. If he freezes, or trembles, or agitates the Rune-it isn't worth dwelling on the consequences, that'll only make things worse. Jowy lowers his shoulders, lifts his head, and it takes everything in him not to flinch when Luca says, "Take your sniveling little messenger and leave my tent." He might be speaking to Rowd, but his glare settles on Jowy, and Jowy's gaze drifts to the gleaming edge of Luca's blade.
Rowd shoots Jowy one more scowl before hurrying out, and Luca advances, and if Jowy runs, he's dead.
"So you know that kid, is that right? How many secrets have you been keeping from me?" Luca rams the hilt of his sword under Jowy's chin, forces it up. "Tell me why I shouldn't have my men pry them out of you."
It's hard to form words like this, but he has to. "I didn't think that was a secret."
"Ha! Then why didn't I know about it?"
"You did know, your Highness," Jowy says, forces down a wave of irritation. "You saw us both at the fort, and you saw us both at the camp. He got away the second time. I didn't. And he wasn't commanding anything then."
"He is now. Did you plan that out with him?" Luca grins. It looks more like a grimace. "You kill the sow of Muse, that friend of yours takes her army, then you kill me and take mine. Heh. It's all perfectly stupid. Just like a pair of kids."
"I already told you I can't kill you."
Luca snorts, clocks Jowy across the temple with the hilt of his sword. Jowy's vision only slips out of focus for a moment, so Luca can't have meant it to do real harm. Luca's keeping him alive. For now. "Of course you can't. And watch how you address me."
"I didn't plan anything with him, either, your Highness," Jowy says, and wills away the memories of that night-and of a night not long before that one, when moonlight shone into the cell they shared with Nanami and Pilika, and Riou-
Gods, now isn't the time.
"I thought he'd left the City-States," he continues.
"He's their spy. Why would he?"
He wasn't a spy, Jowy wants to scream, but that argument isn't going to help him and it's pointless now, considering. He breathes, steadies his hands. "It doesn't matter why he would, your Highness, since he hasn't."
Luca laughs at that, and moves his sword a hair further away from Jowy's temple. "And what are you planning now? Will you betray your family and your country again, and run off and join him?"
"No, your Highness," Jowy says, and it's true. His throat stings. He swallows, pushes that down too. "He saw me kill Mayor Anabelle. He wouldn't take me back after that."
"Not if he has more brains than the gods gave a goose," Luca agrees. "Ha. You're not the easiest boy to trust, are you?"
"I suppose not." Jowy runs his knuckles over the bruise blossoming under his chin. It's not as tender as it could be. "Put me under watch if you like, your Highness, but I'm not working for Jowston-" Damn it, he can't choke now. "And I've cut any ties I had with their command."
Have you really," Luca says, and turns Jowy's face from side to side as though he's inspecting it. Jowy wants to hack that hand off at the wrist, and he needs to stop thinking about that before his Rune encourages him to do it.
"If you met that brat on the battlefield, what would you do?" Luca asks. "I bet you wouldn't have the balls to run him through."
He can't afford to ask himself that question, no matter how clear the image is in his mind: Riou's hand over the wound, blood seeping through his fingers, his eyes-no. But his Rune hums at those images, warms to them in a different way than it warms to threats. This is slower, tingling, craving. He might be able to use that. Jowy holds out his right hand and says, "You know what this is, your Highness."
"Yes. What about it?"
"The enemy commander has its opposite." Enemy. It stings his tongue. "If they meet in battle, it's in their natures to try to destroy each other."
For a moment, Luca is silent, and Jowy braces himself. Then Luca throws back his head and howls with laughter, and even if Jowy doesn't understand what's so funny it's better than being beheaded, so he keeps his mouth shut.
"Ha ha! It's Han and Genkaku all over again! This is priceless." His laughter trails off, and his smile curls up at the corners. "That old man was too soft on Han. He's too soft on everyone. Pah. If you sneak off to meet with that kid, or if you spare his life, I'll kill you. Understand?"
It wasn't supposed to come to this. "Yes, your Highness."
"Good. You're dismissed. And get Windamier in here. He and that son of his haven't shamed themselves in battle yet. They might still be of some use."
It's a strategy meeting, that's clear enough, and it's one Jowy isn't invited to. He needs to change that.
But it might be better if he doesn't witness this one. He's not sure how much attention he could pay to it.
***
Telling himself not to think about Riou is like telling himself not to think of pink dragons. The images pop into his head whether he wants them there or not, and the harder he tries to push them away, the harder they are to get rid of. Forbidding himself from thinking about that night makes it even worse.
He flops onto his side, dangles his arm off the edge of his cot. He isn't the only one in the tent anymore; three other soldiers share it with him, though only one of them's asleep now. Does that mean they trust him more or trust him less? It probably means Luca's decided that this is a more effective way of keeping him under watch. It's fine. Jowy's not stupid enough to sneak off now, and he doesn't know who in the high command might not have sworn themselves fully to Luca's service. Kiba, obviously, but Jowy doubts Kiba's the type to go behind Luca's back. As for the rest of them-well, he needs to prove himself before he can win anyone's support, and he hasn't had much opportunity to do that yet. Can he create that opportunity? He sighs. What does Highland need?
At least thinking about this keeps his mind off Riou.
-damn it.
Jowy tries to run through what he's learned about the Highland Army's strengths and weaknesses, the goals it hasn't achieved and the fissures in its ranks, but all he sees is Riou riding at the head of a battalion, Riou breaking through his shyness enough to address his troops, Riou tilting his face up to the moonlight. Riou's too kind for war. Riou would never knife anyone in the back. Jowy doesn't want him to. He and Nanami and Pilika should be across the border in Toran now, or somewhere further than that, somewhere even Luca Blight wouldn't march. Why are they putting themselves in danger like this? Why do they think Jowy left-
No, that isn't fair. They have no idea why Jowy left, Pilika least of all. He turns over, buries his face in his pillow. Maybe Riou agreed to take command so he could strike back at Jowy himself. Maybe Riou's Rune is whispering to him the same way Jowy's is, urging him to stand his ground and defend and protect. Maybe Jowy's being incredibly stupid and self-centered right now, but better now than when he's in front of the high command.
Maybe he shouldn't have waited so long to kiss Riou.
They were both staring up at the moon that night in Muse, the kind of moon that secret lovers met under in the stories Mother liked to read-though Jowy was trying not to think about those-and Jowy was already telling Riou at least half the things he'd promised himself never to share. How he spent hours trying to think of what to say to Riou and Nanami before they first met. How he had to fight down something sharp in his throat every time Nanami and Riou ran into Genkaku's arms and he laughed and carried them on his shoulders. And Riou's chin rested on his shoulder, and Riou's fingers twined with his, and his eyelashes almost glowed in the moonlight, and Jowy realized, somewhere, that getting entranced by Riou's eyelashes meant he should move away before he made a complete idiot out of himself.
He didn't move, though, and Riou turned his chin up and smiled in that way of his, more with his eyes than with his mouth. And then that mouth was on Jowy's, and thinking back on it Jowy's still not sure which one of them moved first, and that almost hurts more than knowing would. Riou's lips were chapped at the corners but still soft underneath that, and when he sighed into Jowy's mouth the sound warmed him all the way down his spine. Jowy had pulled and tugged on Riou's hair before then, when they'd wrestled or fought, but he'd never run his fingers through it like that, never stroked it and felt Riou shiver.
Then Pilika woke up, and they sprang apart. Jowy put Pilika back to bed. He shouldn't have woken her up in the first place. Riou said nothing, so Jowy curled up on the cot and tried to sleep, too. And the next morning, and in the days after that, well, they didn't have much time to talk about it. Things were complicated enough.
It doesn't matter anymore. Jowy clutches his pillow closer; his knuckles brush against the hilt of the knife, where he's decided to store it for now. The way things are, he's more likely to kiss Holy Hikusaak than he is to kiss Riou again.
The other soldier in the tent gives a tremendous snort, and Jowy could almost kiss him for the distraction. He tucks himself under his blanket and listens deep inside himself for the pulse of his Rune, lets that lull him to sleep.
***
The soldiers assigned to keep an eye on Jowy aren't being particularly subtle about it, which makes him suspect that he has at least one other tail who isn't making himself known. He'll need to figure out who that is soon, but he's not stupid enough to step out of line before he's earned anyone's trust.
So Jowy drills with Culgan and Seed, takes his meals in the mess when he isn't waiting on the high command, volunteers to assist the surveyors and rune sages and blacksmiths when they're shorthanded and he has an hour to spare. He even digs the fire-pits one evening. If the soldiers are surprised to see him-a nobleman's son, a convicted spy, Luca's adjutant, or whatever the prevailing opinion of him is-doing honest work, they at least don't seem to resent him for it. Jowy tries not to make a show of it. He asks questions when he needs to know what a tool's called or which scrolls go where or how high to stoke a fire, but otherwise does what he's supposed to.
Riou might not have spoken up much but he could get people to talk to him for minutes on end if he looked at them right. Jowy doesn't have that kind of ease with people, but he catches some of the men nodding when he finally scores a hit on Culgan or burns a target to the ground on his first try. Whispers still follow him when he walks through the camp, but their tone starts to shift. What they've seen him do might finally be starting to carry more weight than what they've heard about him.
There's only so much time he can spend among the enlisted men, though, with all that Luca has him doing. Luca may not be in the field now, but no matter how loudly he complains about that fact, he has more than enough to keep him busy. He reads every report the Highland Army's scouts and generals send, for one. He drives his dagger through some of them when he finishes reading them, but he reads them all. And he supervises his elite corps' drills every morning. How the White Wolves survive some of those drills Jowy doesn't know, but none of them complain about it afterwards. Jowy's responsible for briefing Luca on conditions within the army twice a day, once a few hours before noon and once at sunset. He learns what Luca does and doesn't want to hear soon enough, because Luca cuts him off with, "I don't care about that crap."
"Yes, your Highness," Jowy says, and makes a mental note to ask Seed why the armorers seem to be shortchanging the Third Company. "The prisoners of war from Muse-"
"Did they escape?"
"No, your Highness."
"Did they kill any of our men?"
"No, your Highness."
"Have they spread some disease to the rest of the camp?"
"No, your Highness."
"Then who cares?" Luca drains the last of his wineglass, slams it back down on the table. "Pour me more of this. No. Something stronger. This is almost water."
Jowy selects a better bottle and starts to pour when Luca grabs the hilt of the knife in Jowy's belt, and Jowy's glad he manages not to slop wine all over the table. "So you do still have it," he says.
Just in case, Jowy sets the bottle back down. "Do you want it back, your Highness?"
"Keep it. You've earned it, haven't you? Heh." Luca lets go of the hilt, pours the wine himself. "You never did tell me how it felt to kill that sow."
Jowy fights the urge to look down. "Different, your Highness," he manages. It's the only one he can admit to that's still true.
"Different from what?"
"Different from meeting her on the battlefield," he says, and searches for the right words to explain how.
He doesn't have to. Luca snorts and says, "Bullshit."
"What?"
"Bullshit," Luca repeats, matter-of-factly, and knocks back his drink. "Your enemies are your enemies whether you face them on the field or not. Stab them in the back, stab them in the front, what's the difference? They're dead either way."
Jowy shakes his head; Luca's watching him intently, his eyes sharp as a hawk's, but he hasn't drawn his sword or moved to stand yet. "But soldiers know they're putting their lives in danger, and they've agreed to do it. Civilians, children-"
"-should learn how to defend themselves if they're so afraid of dying. Why should the weak feel
safer than the strong?"
"So children should die for the crime of being children," Jowy says before he can think better of it, and Luca narrows his eyes, tightens his grip on his glass.
"Children die all the time, boy," he says. "Children suffer and scream and bleed, and half the time it's at each other's hands. The world's not kind to children. Why the hell should I be?"
Because they're innocent, Jowy wants to say, but his tongue locks in place. He remembers the children who used to chase him and Riou down, sticks in hand. One of them hurled a rock at Riou's temple once, and the gash on his head took so long to heal even with a Water Rune speeding it along. Riou's skull could have fractured if that rock had hit him differently, and the children would have been scolded for it, but they'd have kept chasing after Jowy all the same.
But what Luca's talking about isn't the same as that. It can't be.
Luca smirks, rising, and Jowy needs to stop being startled at how quickly he moves. "Do you know how your precious brats can save their little hides? Go on, guess."
Luca's going to tell him he's wrong, regardless of what he says, so he might as well keep his mouth shut. It's easier that way.
"No? I thought you had more ideas than that." Luca bares his teeth. "Fine, I'll tell you. If they survive, it's because they've learned what power is."
Power. Jowy closes his eyes and the word chimes in his head, resonates to match the steady thrum of his Rune. "What kind of power, your Highness?"
When he opens his eyes, Luca stares at him like he's grown an extra head-and claps Jowy on the shoulder hard enough to make his knees tremble, laughing all the while.
"What kind of power?" he repeats. "Ha! Damn it all, boy, don't tell me you forgot! Power's simple. Power is this-" He holds his gauntleted fist a hair away from Jowy's cheek, and Jowy fights not to flinch. "And power is this," he continues, indicating the sword at his side. "Power is death, boy! Power is holding pitiful lives in your hands and deciding whether you'll crush them or not, and there's not a damned thing anyone else can do about it."
Jowy swallows, and Luca circles him as though he's caught the scent of blood. "Your allies, your enemies, it's all the same," he says. "Either way, they die at your command."
No. There has to be more to it than that.
"But that's only true on the battlefield, isn't it?" Jowy asks, and tacks on a "your Highness" before Luca's scowl deepens any further.
"It's true everywhere. Pah. What, do you think it's any different at court? Those worms don't bow and scrape out of honor or loyalty or any of that crap. They do it because they're too weak to slice off that old man's head, and they know it."
Then why haven't you sliced off his head? Jowy thinks, but knows better than to say it. Saying it would mean his death. But staying silent for too long could mean his death, too, if Luca gets impatient, because even if Luca can't kill his father he can kill Jowy so easily, whenever he wants to. How is Jowy supposed to stop that? By killing Luca first? That's too simple, isn't it?
Is it?
How strong does he need to be to kill Luca Blight?
"Think about it," Luca says. "And then tell me how it felt to kill her."
***
Solon Jhee doesn't scream when they drag him off to die. He must have known it was coming. Out of the corner of his eye, Jowy sees Seed grimace; Culgan says nothing, but holds himself more stiffly than usual. Jowy files that information away. He can't act on it now, obviously, but if Seed and Culgan aren't Luca's men...
"First, we'll take Greenhill," Luca says, turning to face them again. "Will someone here volunteer for command?"
Greenhill. What does Jowy know about Greenhill? It's surrounded by thick forest, and its walls are even harder to breach than Muse's, if some of the soldiers' gossip is to be believed. Most of its soldiers are militia, and any one of the Highland companies surpasses its defenders in number. But size isn't a guarantee of victory. Solon Jhee learned that.
The tent is silent, and Luca snarls. "Is there a worthy general anywhere among you?"
It's an invitation.
Jowy accepts it.
---
--
on to chapter two
.