My first instinct is to laugh, but Idris sounds so serious that I don't dare.

"You're not for real right now, are you?"

"What would make you think I wasn't?"

"You're... well, you're..."

"I'm what?" He asks. "Too important for a girl like you?"

"Uh, yeah," I manage. "You're Idris."

"You could be important too, you know," he tells me. "Which, of course, leads to the last reason I wanted to meet you. I want you to join me."

"Why?" I splutter. "Do you want me to brawl with the Chancellor?"

He actually gives me a full-bodied laugh. "Maybe I do." He stops talking for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is much more sober. "I suppose it's a mixture of selfishness and necessity. You understand, don't you?"

"Not really."

"You could be useful to me. Just think about it. You can fight about as well as Anden can, and that pretty face could charm any Elite with deep pockets to our cause." His voice goes very low at this last part, like he's saying something that he doesn't want to say.

"I'm a pretty face until I open my mouth," I tell him quietly. "So there's your necessity. What about the selfish part?"

"That," he begins, taking a step forward, "is because I want you around. No more brawling for entertainment, no more hanging around in seedy districts. You could be secure with me, Deva."

My mouth opens, and I shut it only for it to open again. What an offer. My face feels hot. I don't know whether to be embarrassed or flattered.

"I..." Say yes, say yes! Haven't you always fantasized about meeting him, about fighting for his cause?

Idris waits patiently for my answer. He looks like he could wait for it forever.

"Blake," I say aloud. "My brother. I don't know if he would let me."

"I can provide monetary compensation," Idris offers. "Money can convince anyone."

I frown at this. "I don't think I'd like to be bought."

Idris takes a step back and straightens. "Of course. My apologies."

"I could never go against my brother," I explain. "He's done everything for me. It would feel wrong to decide without him."

"But you want to join me." Idris states. It's not a question.

I don't confirm it. Something tells me that it's best not to let him know, at least for now, just how much I've wanted. "I think I should just go home for now and talk it over with my brother, if that's alright with you."

Idris offers me his hand. I take it and he helps me off the couch. When I stand in front of him like this, I find that he's taller than me and slightly intimidating. Looking at him makes me lightheaded.

"That's perfectly alright. I'll send over a representative later so we can discuss the terms of you joining me. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, it does." I turn to the door and then pause. "You know where I live?"

He takes a while to reply. Did you not mean to let that slip? How much do you know about me, Idris?

"Ceres told me," he says, and waves lazily at me as I go. "See you soon, Miss Amador."

Once I'm outside, and Ceres and Anden have filed back into the VIP box, I jog down the long hallway to the elevator and practically throw myself inside. Idris doesn't just admire you. He loves you- or something like that. It all makes me giddy enough to send my heart into a frenzy of beats.

And then I pause.

When I'd asked him if he knew where I lived, he'd replied that Ceres told him. He'd said it so nonchalantly that I hadn't even stopped to remember, even for a moment, one simple fact:

Ceres doesn't know where I live.

--

"You're really red."

"I'm not," I snap, even while surreptitiously putting my hands up to my cheeks in the hopes of stifling the blossoming colour in my skin. "It's just really cold. Look, you're red too."

Ezra rolls his eyes. "Not for the same reasons. What, did he confess his adoration for you? That'd be a sight."

"And if he did?" I ask, sidestepping two men who have decided to pick a fight with each other in the middle of the road. "What would you say?"

"I would say that I'm wounded," Ezra says, placing a hand over his heart. "How could you choose someone you've just met over someone who's been pining over you for ages, Deva Amador?" He flutters his long eyelashes at me.

I shove his face away with one hand. "Piss off about that. If I have to deal with one more instance of you trying to come onto me, I think I'll scream. At which point," I tell him, leaning in to widen in my eyes and shoot him a crazed look, "Blake will cut off that precious thing between your-"

Ezra raises his hands in surrender, waving them around widely. "Relax!" He squeaks. "You're not even my type! I've been joking this whole time, I swear!"

I move away and snicker. "Yeah, right."

We're quiet for a long time, walking along the wide road lined with floodlights that will take us back to our district. There aren't many people out, as most are still back down in the gambling arena spending their money or possessions or children, and so besides the silence between me and Ezra, the lack of sound extends to most of the area.

"So why'd you turn him down?"

"I didn't," I clarify. "I just need Blake's permission on this one. Not to mention," I continue, lowering my voice, "that Idris... he seemed a little bit, well, off."

"Off?"

I bite my lip. Maybe I'm just overthinking it as usual. Ceres might have found out where I lived from Ezra, and I'd seem like an ass if I were to freak out about it. Besides, Idris wasn't rude to me, and he didn't act like a total creep, either- not like many other men I've met.

"Forget that. I think I was just a bit intimidated."

Ezra considers this for a moment, and then he changes tack. "You've never asked for Blake's permission before. You must be really serious about this."

"Just a little afraid," I answer honestly. "It's hard enough to hide all this from him- imagine hiding being a part of a revolution. Added on to that, Blake's never been a fan of Idris. Too chaotic for him, apparently."

Ezra's dark eyes reflect a bit of mirth. "You know that's not why he doesn't like Idris. You wanna try again?"

"I wish you'd stop with all of that." I sigh.

"With all of what?" He asks innocently.

"That sister complex stuff you always talk about. I'm fed up."

"You have to know that he's not normal, Deva." Ezra's voice is gentle, and the mirth in his eyes is gone. They're grave, now.

I frown. "He always looks out for me, Ez. He's all I have left. And if I went away..." I trail off, and start again. "If I went away, he'd just look for me."

"Join Idris," Ezra murmurs. "Join Idris, and get away from him. The things he does aren't healthy." He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Please."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Ezra and I freeze. His hand on my shoulder turns clawlike. I turn my head. Please don't let it be the worst case scenario. Please.

I see him and let out a hiss of air from between my teeth. Crap.

"You were always such a bad influence, Ezra," Blake says, somehow calm. "I've tolerated you until now, but that's not happening anymore."

Beside me, Ezra goes paler than usual. He grasps my arm hard enough to cause me discomfort.

"Blake..." I begin, but as soon as he steps forward, all words leave me.

"I said for you to stay in the unit. You didn't listen."

My mouth hangs open. I don't know what to say.

"Was there an errand you had to run? Not enough food in the cupboards?"

My lower lip trembles. "This isn't what you think it is," I say quickly, stumbling over my words a bit. "I can explain-"

"What is there to explain?" Blake asks, snatching my wrist and pulling me to him. "You don't need to say anything, Deva. Or maybe you'd prefer One?"

"You knew?"

"I'm not stupid," he mutters. "Do you think that just because I don't care for watching brawls, I wouldn't find out that you were fighting in them? I had a night off and I wanted to make sure it was really you."

I gulp. "But you said not to leave the unit. Why would you have said that if you were going to watch me?"

His dark, hooded eyes train on me in a way that makes me tremble. "You've always been prone to doing the opposite of what I say. You never change."

"I..." I bow my head. "I'm sorry."

Ezra finally speaks up behind me. "You can't keep doing this," he calls. "She's turning eighteen, and she's got people who'll support her if she decides to leave you."

"Is that a threat, Maverick?" Blake hisses.

"Hey!" I press my hands to his hard chest. "That's enough, both of you!"

I look back at Ezra. He's staring defiantly at Blake, even though he's at least a head shorter. Blake's face is completely blank except for his eyes, which are filled with rage. He holds Ezra's stare for a moment longer before his grip on my wrist tightens.

"We're leaving." He says, and then he begins to pull me off in the direction of our unit, his grip so tight that it leaves me breathless.

"Please, don't be mad." I whisper.

Blake doesn't even look at me. He's too busy tugging me along. "What's this about Idris, hm?"

"He- he was a fan of my brawls, that's all-"

"It didn't seem like that was all." He says darkly.

I press my lips together. If I say any more, Blake might turn around and shout at me.

"You never listen to me," he says. "You stay out all hours of the night, putting yourself in dangerous districts, fighting people who could really hurt you, and you even hang around with trash like Ezra Maverick."

"He's not trash," I object. "He's a good guy. We keep each other safe."

"Safe?" Blake lets out a bit of humour-free laughter. "He looked like he got beat up. You were probably the one to pull him out of it. He's not keeping you safe, Deva. He just keeps you around because you get him out of sticky situations. If worse came to worse, he wouldn't protect you. Not like I would."

Don't badmouth him like that, I want to say, but Blake actually looks back at me now, and his gaze shuts me up. Tears well up in my eyes, and I use my free hand to wipe them away.

"Don't cry. People will stare."

"No one will look at us," I tell him, looking around just to confirm what I've said. The people around us are mostly crowded around food stalls, warming their hands by the grills or with their food to rid themselves of some of the cold from being underneath the shadow of the wall. A pair of children fight over some deep-fried snakeskin. A man strolls past us, laughing as he throws his arms around two prostitutes, pulling them close to give each of them a kiss. "Everyone's minding their own business."

"It doesn't matter. Don't cry."

I pull the hem of my shirt up to rub away the remaining tears. I feel the night's chill on my bare stomach, and cringe before pulling the hem down again. Blake looks back at me, irritation plain on his face.

"You didn't even dress warmly. What am I going to do with you?"

I don't reply, and we walk in silence for a long time. I don't even thank him when he shrugs off his jacket and puts it around my shoulders, his movements filled with brotherly concern even through his anger.

"Just stay home from now on," he tells me. "Don't go out unless I'm with you, and stay away from Ezra. I should have known better than to leave you alone, you always end up getting hurt somehow-"

We reach our unit, and he opens the door to let us inside, and I stomp indoors, throwing a petulant look his way. "I'm not an invalid, Blake-"

"Don't try to worm your way out of this!" He raises his voice as the door slams shut behind him. "My rules aren't optional, Deva! I'm in charge of you and I am the only one who will take care of you! Do you have any idea how hard it was to raise you? I had to do it all on my own!" His perfect mask of calm has dropped completely, now, and the unhinged look on his face is enough to make me cower.

"Blake..."

"No more of that brawling nonsense," he snaps, taking a step towards me and holding my chin, making me look into his deep, dark eyes. "It's over."

"It makes me happy." I protest weakly.

He stares at me, raising an eyebrow. "Is it the only thing that makes you happy?"

I blink away the stinging sensation in my eyes. I won't cry in front of him. I can't. "What else is there?" I ask, my voice bitter.

"Oh, Deva," he sighs, and his tone betrays his disappointment. "What a narrow mind you have." He pauses, and his hold on my chin tightens. "There's me."

"And your will over my actions?"

"I'm just trying to protect you," he murmurs. "Our parents couldn't do it. I'm the only one, Deva, the only person that will ever care for you unconditionally. If you fail to recognize that..." He doesn't continue, but there's a warning in his gaze.

"Our parents are dead. Don't bring them into this." Sometimes I wonder how Blake can be so callous about their memory, like they never existed. Like they never meant anything to him. There are times when I think he must've hated them, because he only ever brings them up as leverage to show me the difference between him and them. I lived through the Blot, he always says, because I wanted to care for you. If they truly loved you, wouldn't they have pushed through the disease like I did? They wanted to leave you alone, Deva. But I didn't.

"What about Ezra? I'm sure his mother will take him back someday, and where will that leave you? You'll be friendless, and he'll be an Elite again."

"Stop it," I whisper, attempting to shake my head. Blake just holds my chin even more firmly, preventing any movement. "Don't say that."

"Has he said he'd stay? He's probably lying."

"He's not." I almost can't hear my own voice.

"Believe what you want," Blake says. "I'm only trying to show you the reality of this world. Nobody will stay with you till the end- nobody except me."

My eyes are so filled with tears that I can barely see him. They finally stream out of my eyes and down my cheeks, turning Blake and our one-room unit into a blurry mess of muted colours. His grip leaves my chin, only for his arms to go around me, holding my head to his warm chest.

"There, now," he croons, stroking my hair, "the truth hurts. It always does."

I cling to him, silently sobbing against his body. He holds me close, and his embrace is so comforting and familiar that I nearly fall apart. There's such a stark contrast between his harsh words and soft touch, but I don't care- I don't care- not when my brother is showing me the affection I've craved from him for so long. Gone is his usual stoic demeanour, replaced with something much more tender.

He walks me backwards, towards the single bed. He sits me onto it, and kneels in front of me, taking my shoes off of my feet. He hasn't done this for me in a long, long time.

"Go to sleep, now." He says, patting my knee.

Even though it's not a command, I listen to him anyway. He draws the thin blanket over my body, holding one of my hands in his own. He never sleeps by my side, not as he did when I'd first healed from the Blot. He's always said it's because there's simply not enough space- I used to sleep like I was dead, but now I move around, tossing and turning, and he'd just fall off, anyway- but now I wonder if there's something more to it. There's an odd loneliness in his eyes, one that spreads onto his whole face. He's looking at me like there's something he wants, something he can't put into words, like he wants to be close to me, and it's taking everything to keep himself away.

Quietly, I say, "The floor is cold. Come lie down with me. It'll be just like old times."

"Old times," he echoes. His voice goes low; rough with a foreign emotion. He looks like he's considering my offer. And then he shakes his head. "No. I'll stay here. Just sleep."

Maybe it's a trick of the light, but there's a strange gleam to his eyes, their normal brown interlaced with threads of a colour that looks like pure sunlight. His lips part, and I think he might say something else, but all I hear is silence.

I fall asleep awaiting his words.