Chapter 193: Child’s Choice (2)

Misha’s attention shifted from his hands to his face. He was speaking with the earnest concentration of someone who had been considering this for longer than the morning.

"I could keep it away," he continued. "Long enough for you to turn around."

The biscuit crumbs caught against her palm when she closed her hand. She brushed them onto the plate, giving herself a second to arrange an answer.

"You should learn the basics first."

"I am." Carl looked toward the house, perhaps hoping Sebastian would return and confirm it. "I could practice every day until we leave."

There it was. Misha had been expecting the conversation, and still she felt unprepared when it arrived.

’Say it now.’ She moved the plate farther from the table’s edge. ’Before he starts deciding which monster he’s going to impress me by stabbing.’

She had gone through several versions of this in her head. Every one had contained a calm explanation, a disappointed response, and some eventual understanding. An embarrassingly convenient child had been used in those rehearsals. The actual one was sitting beside her with sweat drying on his face and both feet tucked beneath his chair.

"Carl." Misha turned toward him properly. "I think you should stay here when he continue climbing."

His fingers stopped against the glass. For a few seconds, he seemed to wait for the rest.

"Here?"

"Elyes and Sebastian will be with you."

"While you go somewhere?"

"...Yes."

Carl looked at the house. He had been comfortable there that morning, comfortable enough to ask the cook whether there would be more of the little custard cakes. Now, he stared at the windows as though she had pointed out a place he had never seen.

"How long?"

Misha pressed her lips together. She could give him a hopeful answer, but the Tower had already made a habit of punishing those. "We’d have to work that out."

"You don’t know?" His brows drew together. "Then why are you telling me?"

"Because I wanted you to hear it from me." She paused, aware that she had begun sounding like someone announcing a change to a work schedule. "And because I don’t want you preparing to leave without knowing what I’m thinking."

Carl looked down at the glass again. A small wet ring had formed beneath it, and he pushed one finger through the water. "I’m coming with you."

Misha had expected those words. Hearing them still made something beneath her chest pull tight.

"The next Floors could be worse than the ones we’ve already crossed." She kept her voice quiet. "I can’t always be close enough to help."

"I know..."

"Knowing doesn’t make it safer."

"That’s why I’m learning." He looked at the practice spear again. His cheeks had grown pinker, though the heat from the lesson should have been fading.

Misha glanced toward the doorway. She wished Sebastian would return, then immediately disliked herself for wanting somebody else present to make the conversation easier.

"This house has people who can teach you properly." She brought her gaze back to him. "You’d have somewhere to sleep, regular meals, time to—"

"I have that with you."

"Sometimes."

"Most times."

He was defending a life that had included sleeping on floors, eating whatever could be found, and watching people die. Misha wanted to take him by the shoulders and make him understand how little he should have been required to accept. Instead, she sat there trying to choose words that would not make it worse.

"You deserve something more settled."

Carl frowned at her. "I don’t want that."

"You might, once you’ve had it for a while."

"But I’m telling you." His voice had risen. He noticed it too, because he glanced toward the doorway before looking back at her. "I don’t want to stay..."

Misha folded her hands beneath the table. Her nails pressed into the soft skin of her palm.

He was twelve. She could allow him to dislike vegetables, waste an afternoon, or decide that a spear looked better than a sword. She could not make him responsible for deciding whether another monster might tear him apart. How was she supposed to agree to that and call it respecting him?

"It’s too dangerous, Carl."

He swallowed. Then he reached for a different answer, one she suspected he had been keeping ready.

"I won’t get in the way."

Misha closed her eyes briefly. ’Damn it. Why does he think that’s what I mean?’

"I know you try."

"I’ll do what you tell me. I’ll listen." His hands had closed around the glass again, holding it firmly enough that she wanted to take it away. "I won’t go near anything. I can stay behind everybody."

She looked at him. There was so much hope being forced into those promises that answering them felt cruel. "You could do everything I tell you and still get hurt."

Carl’s mouth opened. He hesitated, then shut it, his lower lip beginning to tremble before it was pressed firmly against the upper one.

Misha reached toward his wrist. "Listen to me."

He pulled back.

The movement was small. She had seen him recoil from sudden hands before, but this time he knew exactly whose hand it was.

Her fingers remained above the table for a moment, then she lowered them.

"Did you already ask Elyes?"

Misha looked at him. She should have answered immediately, and the hesitation cost her.

Carl pushed his chair backward, one leg scraped hard against the paving. "You did."

"I asked whether you could stay if—"

"You asked him before you asked me."

She stood when he did. "I needed to know whether it was possible."

Carl grabbed the jacket draped over the back of his chair. One sleeve had been caught beneath the armrest, and he tugged it twice before freeing it.

Misha felt irritation rise alongside fear. She had been trying to arrange something good for him, something that would let him wake up without needing to wonder who had survived the night. Now, he was looking at her as though she had quietly packed his things and left them outside somebody else’s door.

"Carl, listen."

He rubbed the heel of his hand beneath one eye. When he looked back at her, his lashes were wet and his mouth had been pulled into an angry little line.

"I don’t want to."

Then he ran.

His jacket was dragged behind him for the first few steps before he gathered it against his chest. Misha started after him, but Caius appeared in the doorway just as the boy reached it.

He moved aside before they collided. Carl slipped past without looking up, and his footsteps continued through the corridor.