Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

still turned to Lor as I say, “You made a promise, Lor.”
    “Did I?”
    I sit on one of the rocks. It’ll ruin my dress, which isn’t a shame at all. “Yes, you did. You said you’d tell me more about your family and country if I took you out of my chambers. And I did. So tell me more. To start with, what color is
your
ocean?”
    Lor stiffens for a moment. I can see his jaw working back and forth, his teeth grinding as he considers my words. Then he lets out a long breath. “Blue,” he says quietly. “And not this type of blue.” He gestures to the waters in front of him. “Your ocean is a murky blue. Ugly. My ocean is gorgeous.”
    “A tropical blue,” I say.
    He startles a little and turns toward me, that grin playing at the corners of his lips. “Yes. Exactly, we’re a tropical land. How did you know?”
    I tap the side of my head. “This isn’t as empty as you’d think. I’m well educated. More so than I should be. My father doesn’t think girls should be taught beyond basic arithmetic, but I enjoy reading books.”
    Lor scoffs a little. “I’ve noticed.” Then he frowns a little and walks toward me. It’s all I can do to focus on his face and not the tattoo snaking over his shoulder. “Why do you keep your books in such plain view if you’re not supposed to read them? I mean, you have a
library
.”
    I smirk. “You honestly haven’t figured that out by now? Hardly anyone ever comes into my chambers. And if they do, it’s either Jackal or Farren, or sometimes the maids. And none of them would dare tell Father I’m disobeying him and reading books.”
    Lor sits next to me. He has a bad habit of not understanding the concept of personal space, and he sits barely two feet from me. Ashe had the same habit, but I didn’t mind it when he sat close. Ashe’s presence was warm and comfortable. But Lor’s presence is… scorching.
    “Who’s this Jackal?” Lor asks.
    “He’s the Vampire we saw in the gardens.”
    “No, I mean who is he to
you
?”
    “He’s…” I trail off. How should I explain Jackal? I can’t call him my tutor; he’d been fired from that position, as his paranoia grew and his teaching skills waned. I can’t exactly call him a friend, either; he’s always been too hard on me for a true friendship to form. And a mentor… he’s too broken to be a person to truly look up to.
    Maybe that’s what he really is to me: Someone broken. Someone I can understand. Someone who understands me.
    “He’s an acquaintance,” I say slowly. Then I give Lor an accusing look. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be answering the questions.”
    He grins. “But you’re not asking any.”
    I give him a small glare, but don’t retort. This is all so odd to me. I ask questions when I want something or when I need information. Not when I casually want to get to know someone better.
    But that’s what I want from Lor. I want to know him better, to hear about his people, his country, his life with Ashe.
    I think for a long moment, considering the best way to approach the conversation. Waves crash against the sand. Seagulls cry. And I have my first question.
    “How old are you?” I ask. I’ve always wanted to know this; Ashe’s age was a mystery. We guessed that he was a year older than me, and celebrated his birthday the same day as mine. But it was never a very happy celebration, not when we both knew it was a lie.
    “Nineteen years,” Lor replies, confirming my suspicions. Then he quietly adds, “Jay was an hour younger than me.”
    I nod slowly, and my stomach twists a little. Somehow, it stings to hear Lor state Ashe’s age so easily. What was a frustrating mystery to me is nothing but an everyday fact to him. It’s just another reminder of what Lor is to Ashe: His brother. And what I am:
    Nothing. At least not anymore.
    Lor continues tapping his foot, which leads me to my next question.
    “Is everyone in your family as anxious as you are?”
    Lor’s eyes widen. He clenches his fist and unclenches it. Then clenches it again. It’s another nervous tic, one of his more unconscious ones, and he doesn’t realize he’s doing it as he replies, “I’m not anxious.”
    I scoff. “Lor, you never stop moving. You’re constantly looking around like you expect to be stabbed from behind. You stare at strangers like they’ll all plotting your murder…”
    Lor cringes at my words, and I trail off. Silence settles over us for a moment, and it’s not the comfortable