He liked you, she crooned absentmindedly, as if there were more important tasks in the world than repairing his damaged man-pride. "If you say so," he said uncertainly. But she probably had the right of it. After all, what wasn't there to like about him? His teeth weren't too yellow, and his smile was only slightly crooked. His mother had once told him he had beautiful eyes, but mothers were supposed to say that sort of thing, so that probably didn't count. But he did have a cool tattoo. Girls liked bad boys with tattoos, didn't they? Feeling better about himself already, Lena's vague reassurance managed to sooth his ruffled feathers for the time being, even if he didn't believe her statement one tiddily bit.

He then eyed the dark bay unicorn suspiciously, narrowing his eyes until they became ruby slits. "Well, he seemed to really like you, at any rate," he said huffily, recalling the way the lord and lady had touched briefly right in front of him. Did they think him blind? Yes, they had seemed most familiar with each other. Too familiar, in d'Aramit'z expert opinion. "If you know what I mean." He might have waggled his brows suggestively in a sly manner, as the Blue Duck of the brotherhood surely would have done, but he supposed gentlemen didn't do that sort of thing in a lady's gentle company. "Is he your boyfriend?" he demanded suddenly, as if the very idea disgusted him. "I didn't find him all that impressive, really," he lied easily, sniffing disdainfully. Honestly, what did the man have on him? Majestic hair, no doubt, rippling pectorals, perhaps, a dazzling complexion...did the list of magnificent physical attributes ever end? Whatever feathers Lena had managed to sooth sprang up again, unruly as ever.

A gentleman probably didn't pry into the affairs of lady, either, but he hadn't considered that until it was too late. Completely horrified by his outburst, he fervently hoped she wouldn't faint (he'd heard ladies were especially delicate). Oh gods, what would he do then? Mauja would be sure to gore him a new one if something happened to his lady friend in the new kid's company.

The old man would have to catch me first...

But if he could not be the rowdy, suggestive Blue Duck of the brotherhood in the Lady Lena's company, then who was he? For as hard as he tried, d'Aramitz could not pretend to be something he was not (a gentleman, for example), and never again would he content to be a slave. Never. Not to any man or woman, however lordly or ladylike they might be. His freedom would be his own; he would never allow someone to take it from him again, nor would he stand idly by, waiting for his life to be gambled away by those more powerful than himself. But if he was not a brigand boy or a gladiator slave (as he had been for most of his life), then what was he?

The General's second son was the only identity left to him. d'Aramitz the boy had been a happy, carefree child; his days had been filled with snow and sunlight, laughter and games—playing pranks on his elder brother because that was what little brothers were supposed to do. The grizzled veteran soldiers would chuckle and tousle his black hair, his father would frown and disapprove, his mother would smile, his brother would pretend to be braver than he felt. The nights were always full of stories and warmth, crowded with his family and friends into the caves where shadows danced on the wall, cast by a roaring fire. He had thought those days behind him forever, and they were, in a sense. His people were taken from him or lay in their frozen northern graves, but that did not mean he would never find them again. They would be different people with different faces, to be sure, but perhaps the relationships could be the same.

Unless winged bastards and hornless freaks called the Aurora Basin home as well; that would be an entirely different matter.

Just the thought of the feathered beasts made his blood boil in his veins. He was about to grill Lena with questions concerning the topic, but her face was so serene, so peaceful, he couldn't bring himself to corrupt such a pure heart with his own misgivings. Instead, he fumed in silence, faces floating through his mind like the snow that swirled through the air; the faces of all his kin they'd forced him to slay in the pits. As they trekked through the winter snows together, he watched the world go by quietly as Imogen bounded along through the drifts, although there wasn't much scenery to admire in the sudden darkness. His new companion briefly commented on the darkness again, but her pleasant voice dismissed the topic breezily. Too breezily. Her undaunted tone contrasted starkly to her initial reaction of unease, but he pretended not to notice. And the horizon steadily grew blacker and blacker.

The wind snapped against his skin like the gnashing of wolf teeth, but he found he didn't mind so much. He lifted to his face to the wind, pressed his eyes shut, enjoying the cool hands that caressed his face gently, breathing in the cold and the snow. It reminded him of home. Lena's voice reached out to him in his silent sanctuary; a ray of light streaming through the darkness. They hadn't known each other more than a day, and he'd already betrayed her trust. He sighed softly. The breath was swept away by the wind. "My name...it isn't really Blue Duck," he admitted at last in a quiet murmur. He opened his eyes. It was no lighter than when his eyes were closed. "But I suppose you already knew that, didn't you." It was not a question. He glanced at her curiously, wondering what sort of expression would betray the gentle, carefully composed planes of her face. Surprise? Suspicion? Distrust? Acceptance? "I was somebody else, once, but that boy and his name are gone. And it must stay that way, for a while longer, at least..." He did not finish. She would hear the unspoken message in his voice.

Until I know I can trust you.

He stopped abruptly, snow gnashing at his fetlocks as he slid to a halt. He couldn't ignore the faces of the slain floating listlessly through the space of his brain any longer. "Wait." His voice was uncharacteristically brittle, threading to shatter into a thousand shards. Would she hate him for it? Would she despise him once she knew the truth of his bitter heart? He was prepared to lose her. Nobody stayed in his life for very long. She wouldn't be the first to leave him and certainly wouldn't be the last.

They are all the same in the end, just dead faces with names no one remembers once they are fallen.

"I can't live with them. I can't. I won't. I'll kill them all, I swear it, by your gods and mine." As mercilessly as they slaughtered my brother, my father, my people. The words were cold and his voice no longer trembled. He met her gaze steadily, his expression unyielding and his eyes glittering like hard red rubies. His carefully spun guise shattered all around him. She would see him, truly see him as the scarred, angry boy he was. The boy who had the world once, only to have it stolen from him. "Do you understand, Lena? I'll kill them all."