none too pleased to see Liv. Kip wondered why Liv had used the slave’s name, then. He thought you were only supposed to do that with slaves with whom you were friendly.
From deep in the chamber, they heard Gavin’s voice, deep and scratchy from just waking, “Ummgh, give me a—” Whatever else he said, it was lost in bass and pillows. A moment later, all the windows banged open and light streamed in from all sides, nearly blinding everyone, and eliciting a loud groan from the Prism on his bed.
“That’s brilliant magic!” Liv said. “Look at that, Kip!” She pointed at a dark purplish-black strip of glass around the glass walls that encircled the whole chamber.
“What are you—Are you forgetting why we’re here?” Kip asked.
“Oh, sorry.”
Gavin was squinting at them. “Marissia, kopi, please.”
The woman bobbed. “First closet, third from the left.” Then she left.
“Kopi’s in the closet?” Gavin asked. “What the hell? Who puts kopi—and why aren’t you serving me?” The door closed behind her. “And where’s my favorite shirt—oh, closet. Damned woman.”
“Clearly a morning person,” Liv said under her breath.
Kip snorted before he could stop himself.
Gavin had been looking down as if feeling trapped, but now he shot Kip a look. “This had better be important.” He threw off his covers and walked toward the closet. He wasn’t wearing anything.
Kip had seen Gavin’s forearms, with hemp ropes for muscles, and he’d known his father was lean, but seeing his whole body was half awe-inspiring and half a slap in the face. Kip’s shoulders were as broad as Gavin’s, and his arms were probably as big around as Gavin’s, but even now—not after exertion, not filled from hard labor—but now, after sleeping, Gavin’s body was one smooth curving muscle meeting another, over and over, without an ounce of softness anywhere. Apparently sculling and skimming around the entirety of the Seven Satrapies did that to a man.
How did I come from this?
Next to him, Kip grew aware of Liv staring, openmouthed. She didn’t avert her eyes, even as Gavin had to rummage through the closet.
“Liv,” Kip said under his breath.
“What?” she asked, glancing away, her cheeks bright. “He’s the Prism. It’s practically my religious duty to give him my full attention.”
Gavin, who’d seemed oblivious to them, grabbed some clothing and said, without looking at them, “Ana, staring is rude.”
Liv blushed harder and sank into herself, horrified.
“Her name’s Liv,” Kip said.
“I know her name. Now what is it?” Gavin demanded, pulling on a dazzling white silk shirt with gold piping.
The door opened behind Kip, and Marissia and Commander Ironfist stepped into the room. Ironfist stopped at the door, while Marissia brought in a tray with a silver service on it and three cups. She poured a dark, creamy, steaming brew into one cup and handed it to Gavin, whose pants and sleeves were still unlaced. “Commander? Kip?” Gavin asked, motioning to the other cups. “I think Liv is quite alert enough already.”
Liv looked like she wanted to fall through the floor. Kip grinned.
Ironfist helped himself to the kopi while Marissia took over dressing Gavin. Kip picked up a cup too. But as he picked up the carafe, his hands started shaking so badly he couldn’t even try to fill his cup.
“Someone tried to throw me off the balcony,” Kip said.
It was like the words made it real. One moment ago, he’d been joking with Liv, thinking about how unlike his father he was, and grinning when Liv got embarrassed. Now the reality of how close he’d come to getting thrown to his death came crashing in on him. He could see himself falling, twisting, helpless, like in an awful dream, and then his body bursting like a juicy grape.
And who would have suspected anything? The woman could have slipped into his room, thrown him off the balcony, and then simply left. Even if they’d figured out who was on the floor at the time, who would expect a big woman as an assassin? People would have thought Kip had broken after his testing and jumped. No one would have known.
And who would have cared?
Kip felt a great gnawing emptiness in his chest.
He’d never been part of anything. Even back in Rekton, he hadn’t belonged. Too fat and awkward for Isa, too smart to feel a connection to Sanson, who seemed a whisker away from simple, relentlessly mocked by Ram, too young for Liv. He’d thought that being part of the Chromeria would make him be part of something for the first time