other kids that currently lived at the orphanage. “Oh good, you’re up. Come help, won’t you?”
Rolling his eyes, he went to the refrigerator and got out the small plate of eggs, carrying them to the stove. He set them on the counter and got out the skillet, setting it on the burner and lighting a fire under it. Carefully, he cracked the eggs into the skillet, tossing the shells as they were emptied. They started to cook almost immediately.
“Don’t make a mess.”
“Beks, I’ve never made a mess.” She sent him a exasperated look. “Okay, I never make a big mess.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She whisked the homemade batter for biscuits silently for a few moments. “Darrel’s fine, by the way. Just a bit embarrassed.”
He watched as the eggs cooked away, “Well, that’s good to hear…” Guilt clawed at his throat but he swallowed it down harshly. He’d only protected himself. Nothing more.
“…Yeah. The others aren’t exactly happy he called you a…well…it doesn’t matter.”
Wrinkling his nose, Mathieu flipped the eggs silently, cooking the underside. Under everything, he was seething at being called a faggot. It was a crude term from Ateri, a word that everyone had always been told not to call others. Slang for being gay.
He knew what it meant perfectly well, and he knew that it was probably the worst thing that Darrel could think of to call him. That was why he’d snapped. He didn’t care that someone had called him on being into guys. No, that was okay; he just didn’t like that it’d been an insult.
For the past four or five years, Mathieu and Darrel had been in a competition of sorts. Neither of them was prone to listening to others, to taking orders. Sure, they had fought here and there, but it hadn’t ever crossed his mind to try to inflict serious damage. To him, it had always been like siblings struggling for dominance, not like real enemies. It hurt that something had changed. He’d never had a family and the few people that he counted himself close to were limited to Rebekah and Darrel. But now he wasn’t even sure about that.
In all honesty, Mathieu knew he was different. Always had been, always would be. He was stronger than he should be, had a horrible temper, and was awkward with others. Still, never before had he felt so…unwanted. What if Darrel had meant what he’d said about him belonging in Korinth…?
Shaking his head, he pulled the eggs off the heat and sets them aside. Rebekah was putting the biscuits in the oven and breakfast was nearly completed. The others would be down soon. It was time for him to go.
“Listen, I’m gonna go organize the library or something. Save me some.” With that, he hurried out of the kitchen and up the back stairs, bypassing the others that he could hear now filing into the kitchen.
The back stairs led all the way up to the attic if one chose to follow them. He took the hall that bisected the staircase, however, and followed it to the end. He came to a pair of thick double doors with old-fashioned silver handles that were cold to the touch. Turning the handles slowly, Mathieu pushed them open to reveal the two story library, complete with a catwalk. The room smelled like cigar smoke, exotic perfumes, and something definitely woodsy. Every book was older than anyone in the house, thick and bound in various textiles. The shelving was made of stone and set into the circular walls, and the desk was mahogany. Mathieu let his eyes travel the room, smiling slightly at the ladder that slid around room, which was made of a creaky wood, but it had stood the test of time. A huge chandelier was the only source of light in the room.
Closing the door behind him, Mathieu looked up at the ceiling mural. It was a detailed map of Unith, showing all of the rivers and valleys. Except for where Korinth should be. The area it covered was completely blank, as if it didn’t exist. That wasn’t uncommon. Many people in Unith didn’t truly acknowledge the existence of Korinth. Sighing at the stupidity of the painter, he approached a pile of books sitting on the floor. He picked up a few of them and looked at the titles, deciding where to shelf them. The books mostly belonged on the second floor. Typical.
“Why do they take them down and then not put them back up…?” Mathieu mumbled to