Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

granted privileges within the highest courts. And it didn’t work well. They didn’t have to work for any of their powers, and they—or at least Kell—took them for granted.
    “Soon after my brothers turned seventeen, the Angels faced a threat from a neighboring kingdom. The courts’ plan was to just ignore it; the enemy kingdom was small, and they wouldn’t actually attack us. It was nothing but a bluff.
    “But Kell didn’t see it that way. So he took part of the Angel army and led a charge against the neighboring kingdom. Den went with him. He didn’t think it was a good idea, but he’d sworn to never abandon Kell. My other brother, Jem, went to try to keep the twins safe.”
    Lor pauses and looks down. He trails a finger over the writing on the cover of the book, absently tracing the curves of the letters. I hold my breath, worried I’ll interrupt his thoughts if I make the slightest sound.
    “They never returned,” Lor says. “Well, Kell did. He was stripped of his title, his name, and his right to the throne. But Den and Jem died, along with most of the army. The neighboring country was stronger than the courts thought.”
    I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
    It’s the second time I’ve apologized to him today, but this time I don’t know if the apology is sincere or not. I don’t want it to be; I want Lor to feel that kind of pain. The pain of having loved ones torn away, of having them disposed of like they were nothing but an obstacle, or nothing but a threat. Like they were nothing but… nothing. Maybe if Lor feels that pain, then I won’t be the only one who has to bear it.
    But part of me knows I mean it when I apologize to Lor. Because no one should have to feel that kind of pain. Ever.
    Lor nods, acknowledging my words. “Kell changed his name to Asair after he was disgraced. Soon after he came back home, his tattoo disappeared. It was just gone one morning when he woke up. Part of the legend that’s not in here—” He taps the book. “—is that no traitor will ever bear the flame tattoo. Asair tried to hide that his tattoo had disappeared, but…” Lor gestures to his shoulder, where part of the tattoo is. “Things like this are hard to hide.
    “Almost immediately after his tattoo disappeared, Asair did, too. Apparently, he couldn’t handle all the disgust people held for him. No one really knew where he went, but most agreed that he came to this continent. And, apparently, they were right.”
    I take a moment to mull over this new information. The man who had killed Ashe hadn’t even been a man of power; he’d practically been an outcast. One who must have held a lot of spite for people who
did
hold power.
    “So what about you?” I ask. “You also have the tattoo.”
    Lor nods. “Two years after Asair left, when he would have been nineteen, Jay and I were born. We had the tattoos, so our birth also fulfilled the prophecy. I was the older twin—the one who was supposed to be the strongest—and Jay was the younger one.
    “But people were more cautious about us. They’d had their hopes broken by Asair, and they weren’t willing for that to happen again. So they celebrated us, but they also watched us. Very closely.”
    “That must have been torture,” I say. “I can’t imagine having an entire country monitoring your growth.”
    Lor raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t your country do the same for you?”
    I shake my head. “No. They gossip about me, and they spread rumors, but they never watch me. Father doesn’t let them close.”
    He grunts. “Then you’re lucky. Because, you’re right, it was torture. Jay handled it gracefully, but I… Well, I acted out. I hated being under constant scrutiny. I just couldn’t take it. Jay was the only reason I didn’t go insane.”
    I brush a strand of hair out of my eyes, wanting to see Lor clearly. This next question is one I’m both afraid and desperate to ask, and I need to monitor his expression. If he lies, then I could be in big trouble. Well, I guess
bigger
trouble.
    “What are the twins’ powers, Lor?” I ask. “What makes you so…
special
?” I choose my words carefully, not using the other words that come to mind: Dangerous. Deadly. Cataclysmic.
    He pauses again, and returns to outlining the book’s title. I watch his fingers as they trace up and down the letters. He has delicate hands, with long fingers and very few creases on his palm. His hands are another trait he shared with Ashe.
    “I’m not