Lifer by Beck Nicholas Read Free Book Online Page B

body vibrates in a jig of excitement.
    “It’s—”
    Wonderful. Horrible. Heartbreaking. Agonizing. A million inappropriate words spring to mind and I discard all of them.
    “Nice,” I settle on eventually.
    She leans in close and her floral scent fills my lungs. The sweetness is now cloying. Suffocating me. I have to force my feet not to run for the lower levels.
    Instead of arching away as I long to do, I hold myself on the threshold and hope my smile doesn’t look more like a grimace.
    “His loss was a tragedy,” she says.
    She says it like he was the only one. Part of me wants to shout my brother’s name to force her to acknowledge his existence, but as far as she’s concerned, he didn’t exist. I bite down on the words, offering silent sympathy instead.
    She rewards me by cupping her hands around my ears, peering into the room and then back along the hallway. Her breath tickles.
    “I know something secret about how he died.”
    “How did Samuai die?”
    The question spills from my mouth. It hangs there for a long moment. Her eyes, almost the same shade of brown as her lost son’s, regard me with a triumphant expression.
    “Yes, Mother. What’s your latest theory to explain the tragedy of Wonder-Boy?”
    Davyd’s velvet-on-metal voice has us both spinning to face him.
    He stands at the end of the hallway, only a few feet away. His gaze rests on Lady, but I know he didn’t miss my question. Exactly as he told me not to. My hand rises to my chest to calm my thumping heart.
    The light flicks off behind me, and the yellow door slams shut.
    “I’ve told you before,” Lady says. “What’s in here is none of your business.” Her back is pressed against the door and her arms are wide. She’s gripping the doorframe like she’s preparing to be pried away. Her eyes dart from Davyd to me like either of us could pounce at any second. I drop my gaze to the floor, aiming to project the image of an obedient servant.
    The way Davyd’s arms are folded show defined muscle from the training rooms. He could get past her if he wanted to use force. Now that I’ve seen them together I couldn’t imagine him trying.
    “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in the shrine,” he says. “I was requested to check on the suitability of the new servant.” He speaks as though she’s standing normally and waves a hand in my direction.
    The tactic kind of works. She straightens and shoots me a surprised look.
    “Asher is not my servant,” Lady proclaims. “She’s my friend.”
    His jaw locks. “Have you taken your medicine?”
    “I’m not sick.”
    He takes a step toward her, his hands clenched at his sides. “You promised you’d take it if you were permitted to have Asher here.”
    His lowered voice carries clearly in the small hallway. From the tense line of his shoulders, it’s obvious he hates to have to say it in front of me.
    Now I know the reason Davyd came for me personally. He wants his mother well. For the first time I understand a small part of what drives him. And there’s an echo inside me.
    I would do the same thing for my mother. Lady slumps to the floor. Her knees buckle and her head hits the doorframe as I turn. Brown eyes roll back in their sockets before she crumples to the ground. There, her mouth hangs open and her pink tongue flops about inside as a seizure wracks her body.
    Is she breathing? I don’t think she’s breathing. There’s a speck of dirt on her cheek . She hasn’t told me what she knows .
    Why am I thinking inane thoughts when I should do something? I must do something. I will my legs to move, but it’s all happening so fast.
    Davyd isn’t frozen. His confident hands turn Lady onto her side and make sure her airway is unobstructed. He clears the surroundings, I guess in case of another seizure. I move closer to be of assistance but he’s so in control and assured. There’s nothing for me to do but rock back on my heels and try not to get in the way.
    When his hands take mine