was just as quickly tucked away. “I’ll choose to interpret that as a compliment. There are plenty of ways to be . . . heroic.” His brow knit, and he frowned into his drink before changing the subject. “Does it bother you that we seem to be left waiting around like useless lapdogs?”
“I don’t know. You did get to star in that duel,” Leto offered, and Hero snorted.
“The next call we have for a sacrificial lamb, the honor’s all yours.”
“Could you have really died?” Leto asked, betraying more curiosity than he seemed ready to admit. Brevity had noted the way his eyes had brightened as he watched the fight, much more interested in the deadly slaughter between Hero and the giant than in Claire’s battle of words. He was a teenage boy, so some excitement might be expected, but she didn’t like the way Leto had finally seemed to perk up at violence and cruelty. Demon things, not human things, in Brevity’s opinion. Claire insisted Leto was human, but Brevity could see more. Leto was a human, but a hollowed-out human. Someone had scooped out his human life and filled him all up with darkness and demon stuff, like tar inside a candy shell. Brevity worried that unless they drained it out soon, the tar would stick. And that’d be a tragedy. Leto was sweet, and there was nothing more amazing than a human, in Brevity’s book.
“I mean, being a book or . . . a character from a book and all,” Leto finished weakly.
“I’m sorry—was my bruising not realistic enough for you? Prefer a little more ink on the sand? Did my wrist not crack in a convincing manner? Really, what more heroics do you expect of me?” Hero arched a brow. “Without a welcoming book that I can return to and escape damage, I am just as destructible as anyone else. More so, even, since I don’t have a soul like a human. I’ll crack and burn and fall to ash easy as anything.” Hero’s lip curled. “You saw for yourself—just because a book can be fixed doesn’t mean it can’t be ruined.”
He’d done that damage to himself, but Brevity wasn’t about to rouse his irritation by saying so. Leto tilted his head. “But it’s not as if any of us are mortal—”
“There are worse things done to a man than death,” Andras mused.
There was a tone in the way he said it, academic and contemplative of potential. Hero’s disdain turned toward a new target. “That sounds like a threat, Arcanist. But you’re the cheapest puzzle out of all of us, I think.”
Andras’s smile grew indulgent. He reclined in his seat. “Please, go on.”
Hero didn’t need the encouragement. “You’re a demon, and demons seek power. You’re a former duke, so I am guessing you never shied from ambition. Yet you’re dusting trinkets in the Library. The Arcane Wing—and the relationship with Claire—what’s it get you?”
The light of the longhouse had shifted as the celebrations had wound down, flickering torches and thick lanterns swaying under the jostling tremors of hundreds of Valhalla’s residents. The shadow that slid across Andras’s face could have been that, had it not pulled his features with it. Eyes darker, smile sharper, skin the color of old bone.
“Perhaps it gets me left alone,” Andras said before Brevity could attempt an intervention. “Most learn after a brief period of my acquaintance to leave me alone. In case you haven’t heard, I’m retired.”
“I was under the impression demons never retired,” Hero persisted.
“I was under the impression that heroes weren’t impertinent fools.”
“It appears we both exceed expectations,” Hero allowed. Brevity thought perhaps he would drop it, but of course not. “And what do you want with Claire?”
“The librarian and I have a long history. You should remember that. She trusts me much more than she trusts you,” Andras said, acid sweet. “Does that chafe, young hero?”
“Hardly.” Hero let out a dignified sniff. “I’d expect wardens to plot together.”
“D-don’t take it personal-like!” Brevity was too happy to latch onto the insecure underbelly of Hero’s words. Her stomach was already tied up in knots. Hero and Andras were frowning at each other, trading feints to reveal a hidden weakness. It struck Brevity as pointless—of course they all had secrets, regrets. It was what Hell was for. She stole Hero’s attention by slapping him on the back. “Boss is really a softy underneath. She didn’t care for me much either when I showed up.”
“That woman doesn’t have a caring bone in