Jonah squeezed Armand's shoulder a little too hard. He dropped the sword he was sharpening and tore it out of his grip and turned around. Jonah's eyes had a hard glint in them, like he was angry about something, and Armand couldn't tell if it was directed at him. He tried to wipe the nervous look off his face.

"Do you need something?" he asked. Jonah smiled in a way that cause the hair on the back of Armand's neck to rise. 

"I believe we may not be seeing eye to eye," Jonah said. "You let that man go, the one who was following us. I expected you to kill him, or to at least rough him up a little. I have to admit I'm a little concerned. The blood I understand, and that will come with time--but it wasn't the blood, was it?"

Armand looked away and picked his sword back up off the ground. He sheathed it and stood, eyeing Jonah the whole time, afraid that the man would pounce without warning. He tried not to think about Rannok's screams while Jonah coated the ground with his blood.

"I don't think it's right to do that to someone because of what they are," Armand admitted. Jonah's eyes hardened. Armand flinched and stepped away. He wondered how Griffon would react, if he knew that Armand hung around with people who killed marked ones just for being marked ones. If he would be angry with him, or if he'd just give him one of those stern looks meant for when Armand did something he knew he shouldn't be doing. 

Jonah laughed, the sort of laugh that made Armand's entire body feel cold. "Is that so? You know, if I didn't know any better, I would think you knew that other boy. Are you keeping something from us? Perhaps he's your vagabond?" Jonah's eyes glinted with a mean sort of sparkle. Armand's heart rate rose. A deep scowl crept onto his face.

"I don't need to have a vagabond to be disgusted by what you did," he said. "What if he has people that care about him?" Armand's hands clenched into fists and his nails bit into the inside of his palms. Jonah took a step closer to him. He fought the urge to scurry away as the man's face got very close to his, so close he could feel Jonah's breath on his ear. 

Jonah snaked his fist into Armand's collar and pulled so tight Armand's feet lifted off the ground a little ways. Armand kept eye contact, eyes glowering, and he was sure just as angry as Jonah's. 

"You are playing with matches, boy. I like you, but don't think even for one second I won't throw you in the dirt if you cross me. I don't care if he has people who care about him, good riddance. Marked ones are all the same and the sooner you learn that, the better. They're dangerous, and if I find out you've been so much as talking to one of them you can find a new place to live. I have friends in high places. Remember that." He let go of Armand's collar, and his feet sank back down to the floor. Armand rubbed his neck.

"Do you understand me?" Jonah asked. 

"Yeah," Armand muttered. He pulled at the collar of his shirt a little more and walked out the door of their apartment, slamming it behind him. His heart still beat against the inside of his chest, the blood rushing through his ears. He looked behind him for a moment to make sure Jonah wasn't watching, then ducked down one of the side alleys. 

He had a sudden urge to go find Rannok and apologize, but he didn't even know where he'd go to look. Agatine was a big place, and he had no idea where the other boy lived or even why he'd been following him in the first place. It gave him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he'd swallowed lead. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Oliver following him down the alley. He sighed and shook his head.

"Leave me alone, Oliver," he said as the boy caught up to him. He was glad that he hadn't been around when Jonah beat Rannok. His blue eyes still shone with innocence, like he didn't know that anything bad ever happened in the world. He wondered how he did it. There had to be a reason that he was with the sellswords when he was barely fifteen. Armand was surprised they even kept him around, with the way he handled a sword.

"I saw what Jonah did," Oliver said. "I'm sorry."

Armand's hackles went up and he brushed Oliver away. "You weren't there. Don't tell me you saw what he did. I don't want to talk about it, because I don't want you to go ratting to him. Get out of here."

"I saw him lift you up by your collar. He's...like that. Usually I just keep my mouth shut and he doesn't bother me much."

Armand wanted to start swearing, but he didn't. He glared at the ground with his hands in his pockets and tried not to think of the horrible things Jonah had likely done to Oliver. He talked like a mouse and moved like a mouse and flinched when Jonah came in the room, but Armand had never stopped to ask himself why.

"Why are you with the sellswords? You're fifteen, isn't there something else you can do? Anything's gotta be better than this."

Oliver shook his head 'no'. "Jonah's my father," he said. He leaned against a wall and didn't look at Armand. "My mother died when I was little and he took me with him instead of leaving me somewhere. He doesn't want anyone to know because he doesn't want them to think I get special treatment or for them to start treating me different. He'd kill me if he found out I told you." Oliver's eyes got wide and his cheeks got a little bit red. 

Armand's heart sank. He couldn't imagine having someone as terrible as Jonah for a father. But then again, he'd thought Griffon was horrible, too, before he'd lost him. He'd resented the fact that Griffon wouldn't let him decide what to do, or where to go, or whose business was his. Now he realized he could have had it a lot worse. He could have been stuck with Jonah and had to walk on eggshells while trying to look like it wasn't crushing him inside. At least Griffon never reacted, even when Armand did something so awful that his eyes got dark and they stopped talking.

"Sorry about that," Armand said, for lack of anything better to say. Oliver nodded and Armand wondered for a second if he might cry.

"I wish he'd left me," he said. "He doesn't like you, by the way. Not really. He only took you in because he thought he could make you do whatever he wanted because you're young. He thought you would be like me."

"I'm not his kid," Armand said. 

"I know, I don't know why he thought that." Oliver stared at the far wall, arms folded, suddenly looking much older than his age. "He's going to do something bad soon. To the marked ones. I hear him talking to himself sometimes at night, like he's practicing for when someone else is in the room. Seltus wants them all gone."

Armand blanched. His heartbeat picked up a little and he thought to Wren. Where she was, and if she was safe. How at any moment someone could mug her like they did to Rannok, or worse. The thought petrified him. 

"Thanks," he said. He turned and walked back to the apartment with Oliver a few paces behind. Jonah was waiting inside and he clapped Armand on the shoulder.

"I hope you've decided to start toeing the line," he said.

"Yeah." For now he had to, regardless of how much he hated it. He knew, somehow, that the next thing Jonah asked him to do would be a test--and one he'd need to pass. Armand's life depended on it. He felt sick.