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Crow’s woken by a splash of cold water in his face.
It’s petty, even for Spider, and he groans at the dull throb in his skull as he reaches up to wipe his face. His hands move together in one clumsy motion and he jerks upright in panic when he sees the thick cuffs locked around his wrists.
“Nice of you to finally join us.”
He jumps at the voice from across the room and fumbles for his gun, only to find an empty holster.
The exo in the doorway chuckles, her dark blue plates curving in a smile. “You didn’t really think we’d let you keep your weapons, did you? Not that they did you much good last time.”
“Who are you?” Crow snaps. His head is still pounding and his body aches from wounds which should have been healed on resurrection. “Where am I?”
The exo doesn’t move, just tilts her head as she looks him over. “Guess your old life isn’t the only thing you’re hazy on.” She shrugs, lobbing what looks like a pebble in his direction. “It’ll come back to you.”
The pebble explodes in a tiny burst of arc energy when it hits his arm and Crow flinches back on instinct. Fragments start coming back — Glint’s yelp, the arc grenade pulsing at his feet, the shrieks of the Eliksni ambush, the cold metal stabbing through his calf — and he looks down at his leg to see the open wound beneath torn and bloodied fabric.
His boots are gone, along with his gauntlets and ammo, and he tries to ignore the fresh rush of vulnerability as he looks up at the exo. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
“Boss wanted you alive,” she says with a shrug. “Apparently it sends a better message.”
“And my ghost?”
Glint’s still alive — Crow is sure he’d know if he had been killed, either by Spider’s bomb or by his current captors — but when he reaches out with the light to summon him, there’s nothing.
The red light of the exo’s eyes flickers in annoyance. “Not here. I thought you might have sent him scurrying back to Spider to mount a rescue, but perhaps not.”
Crow frowns. Of all the places he’d send Glint, that wouldn’t be high on his list. “Spider?”
“You know,” the exo drawls, gesturing to Crow’s cloak, “the guy whose insignia you’re wearing.”
“Not for long.”
The exo straightens up at the voice from the doorway, but Crow doesn’t move from his seat on the floor as Eliksni guards take up positions by the entrance. His heart sinks at the sight of the Eliksni who follows them into the room but he tries to keep his expression neutral as he looks up at his captor. “Dovrek.”
Dovrek chitters in amusement, nodding in greeting to Crow. “It has been some time, Lightbearer.”
“How’s the arm?”
Dovrek’s four eyes narrow as he growls. He waves a hand in the direction of the exo who strolls forward to land a solid kick to Crow’s jaw. The force of it is enough to knock him to the side, teeth cutting into his cheek, and he spits a mouthful of blood on the ground as he rights himself and gives Dovrek a tight smile.
While the loss of one of his arms was at Spider’s order, a punishment for insubordination, it was Crow’s hand holding the blade. He’d heard whispers of Dovrek building influence and gathering support during his exile but a move this bold is a surprise.
“If you’re looking to recruit, you’re out of luck,” Crow says, wincing at the fresh pain in his jaw when he speaks. “Spider found a way to reinforce my loyalty.”
“I don’t want your loyalty,” Dovrek says, sneering. “I have lightbearers of my own for that. What I want is much simpler.”
He approaches, staff clinking on the metal floor, and Crow goes still when Dovrek’s one remaining lower hand grips the front of his cloak to haul him in close. “I want Spider’s prized enforcer crucified under my banner.”
His throat clicks as he swallows, eyes raking over Crow’s wounded leg as he smiles. “Your master’s time as ruler of the Shore is coming to an end, little bird. I hope he enjoys it while it lasts.”
———
It’s dark outside when Crow hears a familiar beep.
At first he thinks he’s hallucinating — he’s spent what feels like most of his time here unconscious and the line between dreams and reality is starting to blur — but when he hears a clanking from the pipe followed by a grumpy noise of discomfort, he pulls himself to his feet to investigate. “Glint?”
The clank gets louder, metal scraping against metal, and Crow can’t keep the smile off his face when he sees a blue light through the grate in the wall.
“Crow!” Glint bounces happily, plate knocking against the grate, and Crow limps closer to shush him.
“We need to be quiet,” he whispers. “The guards are close.”
“Right,” Glint whispers back. “Sorry.” He bounces again, more restrained this time. “I’m so pleased to see you.”
“Me too,” Crow says. It doesn’t quite convey how relieved he is to see Glint alive and well, but he figures it’ll have to do. “Are you safe? Has Spider-”
“He hasn’t exploded me,” Glint says, wiggling a wingtip in proof. “He’s angry though.”
He moves closer, his blue light scanning down over Crow’s face, and Crow ducks beneath his hood in shame when Glint says, worried, “You’re hurt.”
“I’m all right.”
“You’re hurt,” Glint says again, upset. “They hurt you.”
“A lot of people hurt me,” Crow points out. “I’m used to it by now.”
“This is different,” Glint says. “I can bring you back when you get hurt too badly, but this…” His shell spins with worry and Crow tries not to think about how he looks to Glint after three days of beatings. “Why haven’t they killed you?”
“Maybe they like me,” Crow teases, and smiles at the unhappy whirr he gets in response. “They will eventually,” he promises. It feels strange for his death to be a source of reassurance but it seems to have the desired effect as Glint nods with sympathy. “You just need to keep yourself hidden until then. Don’t try to bring me back until it’s safe.”
“What do they want with you?” Glint asks. “Is this because of who you used to be? Did they tell you anything?”
Crow shakes his head. “I think this is punishment for my own sins, not his. Dovrek is mounting an opposition to Spider — conquering Spider’s associates isn’t a bad way of showing power.”
Glint’s light pulses, sullen. “I don’t want them to conquer you. You don’t even want to work for Spider anymore.”
Crow smiles, curling his fingers through the grate to brush Glint’s shell. “I don’t think that really matters here. I’m his enforcer, so I’m a target.”
“I should be in there with you,” Glint says sadly. “I’m an enforcer too.” He pauses. “And I don’t like when you’re on your own.”
“Me neither,” Crow admits, “but you can’t be here, Glint. I don’t want to lose you.” He cups his shell as much as he can through the grate. “Stay away from here. Go to Spider if you need to, just stay safe. You can come back for my body when this is over.”
Glint sags, his points drooping, and Crow knows that the brave little nod is just for his benefit. “Okay. I can do that.” He fixes Crow with a firm gaze. “It’ll be all right. We’ll have you back in no time.”
“I know,” Crow lies. “Thank you, Glint.”
———
Crow does his best to die.
His cell is sparse enough that actual suicide isn’t an option and so he reverts to every disobedient habit that Spider beat out of him over the first few months of his servitude. He talks back, questions every order, takes every opportunity for disrespect that’s presented to him, all in the hopes that one of his captors will snap and finish him.
Unfortunately, Dovrek’s men are well-trained.
He doesn’t know if it’s Dovrek’s instruction or if they just understand the situation, but they’re infuriatingly careful. Their visits leave him bruised and bleeding but never close enough to death, and they even take the time to force him to eat and drink when he thinks about opting for a slower potential end.
As such, he’s forced to resort to option B: the exo.
Khit-3 usually pays him a visit at night. His arms are dotted with electrical burns from where she likes to throw those tiny arc charges at him to shock him out of sleep, but when he wakes with a wince a couple of nights after Glint’s visit, he opts for conversation instead of stoic silence.
“I’m impressed,” he says. His voice is hoarse but the words are clear enough in the quiet of the cell. “You’re one of the few Guardians who’s seen my face and hasn’t shot me on sight.”
The door creaks open and Crow pushes himself up to one elbow, grimacing at the twinge of his bruised ribs. “Are you an old ally? Or just a coward?”
The exo laughs. She’s taller than him by almost a head and the cell suddenly feels crowded when she moves to crouch beside him. “I thought you didn’t remember who you used to be, Crow?”
“I don’t,” he says honestly. “Why do you think I’m asking?”
Her eyes shine in the darkness. “Well, then my answer is ‘neither of the above’. Trust me, sweetheart, I have no interest in your past self.”
Crow smirks. “That’d be a first.”
“What can I say, taking vengeance for old murders doesn’t exactly put glimmer in my pockets.” She shrugs. “Not that I’d have any qualms blowing your brains out if it came to it. Maybe Dovrek will let me finish you off when he’s done with you — crucifixion’s a slow way to go.”
“What’s he waiting for?” Crow asks, genuinely curious. “If you’re expecting Spider to pay some kind of ransom for me, you’ll be disappointed.”
“No ransom,” Khit-3 says, rising to her feet. “Just the right audience.”
Crow frowns but his question is cut off with a hiss of pain when she lands a lazy kick to his injured leg. Slumping back to the ground, he watches her move for the door and scrambles to find a different approach.
“I didn’t realise the Vanguard had changed allegiances.”
Khit-3 turns, plates tightening around her eyes in a frown, and Crow clarifies, “From Spider to Dovrek, that is.”
“The Vanguard have no official allegiances on the Shore,” Khit-3 says, folding her arms across her chest. “Certain Guardians freelance with Spider — there’s nothing to stop me freelancing with his competitors.”
“Ah, I understand.” He flashes her a sharp smile. “‘Freelancer’ is so much nicer than ‘traitor’, I suppose.”
The glare of her eyes brightens. She moves far quicker than he was expecting, darting in to grab him by the shirt and he cries out in surprise when she backhands him hard across the face.
Her hand finds his throat, strong metal fingers pinning him to the floor, and her voice comes out in a growl as she spits, “Don’t you dare call me that.”
So used to cowering in the face of Spider’s rage, it takes Crow a second to remember his goal here and he smiles at her with bloodied teeth. “Hit a nerve, did I? Looks I’m not the only lightbearer who has to steer clear of other Guardians. At least I can’t remember who I betrayed — it seems like that would be difficult to live with.”
She strikes him again, a closed fist driven into his cheekbone, and Crow gasps as the pressure on his throat increases.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” she snarls. “I won’t be lectured by Spider’s pet.”
He laughs, chest burning from lack of oxygen. “I take it the Eliksni don’t call you ‘Dovrek’s pet’ to your face then?”
Her grip tightens, inches away from crushing his windpipe, and Crow’s vision goes dark around the edges even as he holds her gaze.
He knows from experience that it’s a painful way to die but he groans in frustration rather than relief when she lets go before she can choke the last of the life from him.
“Nice try,” Khit-3 sneers.
She stands, stomping down hard on his stomach, and Crow curls in on himself in agony. “It’d be so easy, wouldn’t it? Slipping away into the void for a while and making us hunt down your ghost just to bring you back.”
She rests her boot against his injured leg and Crow chokes on a scream when she puts her weight on the stab wound.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she taunts, “you’d be surprised what we lightbearers can live through.”
It’s punctuated by the toss of another tiny arc charge at his face and Crow doesn’t bother to contain his cry as the burning energy sears along his cheek. Khit-3 retreats, still smiling as she locks the cell door behind her, and Crow slumps in defeat on the cold floor, pain coursing through his aching body.
So much for dying.
———
As soon as he hears about the captured ketch, Crow knows what’s coming.
Spider has employed a similar tactic in the past, overpowering an enemy’s champion in front of their footsoldiers to teach a lesson about which is the winning side. Of course, back then Crow was the show of force instead of the example.
He thought he was accustomed to humiliation now, after so long under Spider’s boot, but as Dovrek drags him forward before the gathered captives, cuffed and leashed, the shame of it is suffocating.
Beside him, Dovrek shouts something in Eliksni to the crowd, pulling tight on the rope around Crow’s neck as punctuation. He can pick out the odd word — victory, ruler, obey — but as the pressure on his neck forces him up to his toes, he’s too distracted by the burning pain in his injured leg to translate more of Dovrek’s conversion speech, aside from a familiar name.
“Khit!”
He manages to pull in a quick breath as his leash is passed to the exo but he crumples to his knees with a groan when she kicks his leg out from under him. Dovrek is still talking to Spider’s men, his words a mixture of threats and persuasion, and Crow can’t keep from flinching back when Khit-3 draws a knife from her belt.
“Relax, pet,” she whispers, crouching at his side. “The boss just wants to show off that pretty face of yours.”
Her knife moves to his cloak rather than his flesh, sawing through the thin fabric that still bears Spider’s sigil. It falls away easily, only to be snatched up by Dovrek and brandished with glee before his audience, but Crow keeps his head lowered as he tries to calm his racing heart.
Rationally, he knows his identity makes no difference here — even if any of the watching Eliksni know who he used to be, there’s nothing they could do to change his current situation (for the better or for the worse). Still, the fear swells inside him, instilled by dozens of deaths at the hands of the vengeful, and he glances nervously out at the crowd as his cloak— no, Spider’s property is speared on a pike and set alight to the cheers of Dovrek’s guards.
His gaze catches on a humanoid figure among the captives, and he blinks in confusion at the sight. Spider has a number of contacts outside the Eliksni, from fences to spies to enforcers, but Crow can’t think of a reason why anyone that valuable would be among the crew of a regular supply ketch.
The figure’s face is covered by their helmet but the scraps of purple fabric around their neck and arms seem out of place somehow. He twists his wrists in his cuffs, unsettled by this scrutiny in particular, but before he can try to deduce anything further about them, Dovrek’s clawed hand tangles in his hair.
He winces as his head is wrenched back but recoils in disgust when Dovrek spits pointedly in his face. With his cloak gone and his hands bound behind him, he can’t even wipe it away and his cheeks burn hot with embarrassment when he catches the words ‘Spider’s pet’ amid the speech.
“Hold him.”
He frowns at the intelligible order and struggles instinctively when the eight hands of two Eliksni guards clamp down on him. Their feet find his ankles, pinning him in place on his knees, and Crow tries to brace himself for what he hopes is a swift death.
“The mark of the Spider is worthless,” Dovrek hisses, gesturing to the still burning cloak. “I offer you all a better one.”
Khit-3 steps forward, a metal implement in her hands, and Crow’s eyes widen when he sees the end of it flare orange with solar energy. “No...”
There’s amusement in Khit-3’s eyes as she gives him a wink and Crow struggles harder when the neck of his shirt is torn open at her signal. “No, please-”
She presses the brand firmly against his bare skin, just above his heart, and Crow’s can’t help the scream that tears from him. It burns deep, the hot metal of Dovrek’s sigil searing through skin and muscle, but the guards hold firm even as Crow thrashes against their grip.
He collapses when they finally release him, the smell of his own burning flesh filling his nose as involuntary tears run down his cheeks. However, Dovrek doesn’t even grant him the mercy of being able to retreat into his own head when he grasps the leash and hauls Crow back up to his knees in full view of his audience.
Crow can’t make out what he’s saying, can barely hear anything beyond his own labored breathing and the buzz of white noise in his ears, but as he scans the crowd again for that humanoid figure, he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when he comes up empty.
———
Crow wishes he was surprised when two of his guards come sneaking into his cell that night.
He doesn’t know what’s kept them at bay this long, whether it’s fear of Dovrek, fear of Spider, or fear of Crow’s own capabilities, but after the very public display of his weakness earlier, their inhibitions seem to have been removed.
They chitter and click between themselves, eyeing him up as he backs up into a corner of the room, but with his hands bound and his body still hurting with every breath, Crow’s options for self-defense are limited.
“At least untie me first,” he tries hopefully. “Wouldn’t want your friends to think you’re cowards, would you?”
That draws a laugh from them but no acquiescence, and Crow grits his teeth as the nearest guard reaches for him with a knife clutched in spindly fingers.
Those fingers disintegrate before the knife can even pierce Crow’s skin.
The other guard whirls around with a cry of panic but a hand collides with their chest and that same rippling purple energy consumes them before they can yell for help.
Crow presses back against the wall in fear, tugging uselessly on his restraints when he sees that same strange figure from earlier in front of him. “Who-”
He does a double-take when a familiar ghost appears at the stranger’s shoulder. “Hi.”
Crow stares. “Guardian?”
“The one and only,” the ghost says proudly. He nudges the purple scarf around the Guardian’s neck. “How’d you like our disguise?”
“I’m impressed it fooled them,” Crow says diplomatically. He blinks again, half-convinced this is some kind of hallucination. “How did- Why are you here?”
“To rescue you,” the ghost says, as though it’s obvious. “Glint sent us.” He pauses. “Kind of Spider too, I guess. He didn’t stop us, which I think counts as sending.”
The Guardian steps forward and the ghost translates, “Let’s get those cuffs off.”
He’s still uneasy about turning his back to anyone, however friendly they may seem, but Crow’s low on options. He groans in relief when the chain is severed with a quiet hiss of void energy and he holds his aching arms to his chest as he looks back at the Guardian. “What’s the plan?”
The ghost flies in closer, scanning him quickly, and says, more for his Guardian’s benefit than Crow’s, “You’re in really bad shape.”
“I’d noticed,” Crow says flatly.
“Maybe we should rethink this,” the ghost says, retreating back to his Guardian. “I’m not sure Crow can fight.”
“I can fight,” Crow says, offended. “Give me a gun.”
Ignoring the ghost’s unconvinced whirr, the Guardian holds out a sidearm. Crow tries not to be offended that it’s one of the smallest guns he’s ever seen them carry.
“There’s a back way out,” the ghost says. “Still some guards but not as many. We already did a sweep on our way down here.”
“And Dovrek?”
The ghost shares a glance with his Guardian. “That’s a fight for another day, I think. Spider can take care of rivals to his throne — we’re just here to get you out in one piece.”
The brand on his chest still stings but Crow tamps down the flare of anger at not being able to seek some kind of revenge on his captors as he says tightly, “Lead on.”
It’s a slow journey. The pace is entirely Crow’s fault — between his leg and days without more than a couple of hours sleep at a time, his body is a wreck, but he grits his teeth and forces himself to keep moving as he hobbles in the Guardian’s wake. Their ghost floats ahead, whispering warnings of patrols and stray guards, and by the time they make it to the wide ventilation pipe that serves as an exit, Crow’s barely fired more than ten shots.
“We’ll go first,” the ghost says, already hovering in the pipe. “Who knows what’s waiting on the other side.”
Crow nods, holding up the hatch to let the Guardian clamber inside, and then follows close behind. The movement of climbing up tugs at his leg and he has to pause, breathing hard through his nose to stop himself from crying out, and he doesn’t hear the creak from behind him until it’s too late.
He yells as a hand closes around his ankle, hauling him back out of the chute and dropping him to a heap on the ground, and he scrambles to find a shot as he rolls over onto his back.
Khit-3 ducks out of the way, the bullet grazing her shoulder-plate, and Crow hears the ghost call from behind him, “Crow! We’re coming!”
Khit-3 looks between him and the vent in surprise, even as she draws her own hand cannon.
“Aww,” she taunts, “did you find a friend? I’m sure Dovrek will be glad to have two of Spider’s pets to bring to heel instead of just one.” Her eyes glitter. “We’ll have to find another leash.”
She raises her hand, a flux grenade crackling between her fingers, and Crow kicks out at her knee with his good leg. The impact knocks her off balance, sending the grenade skittering harmlessly down the hallway, and Crow follows it up with a flurry of shots peppered across her torso. One slips past her armor, sending white sparks flying from her chassis, and Crow smirks at the yelp of pain which escapes her.
“Okay, dog,” she snarls, rolling her shoulders, “time to put you down.”
Less than a day ago, Crow would’ve accepted the bullet to the head gladly but now, with escape so close, he can’t bring himself to give her the satisfaction. His dodge saves him from two of her three shots but the third tears through his forearm as he tries to shield his head.
She advances, kicking him hard enough in the ribs that he almost blacks out, but an indignant shout from above keeps him grounded as a small striped shell comes shooting out of the grate to collide hard with the exo’s face.
Khit-3 stumbles back, disoriented, and the ghost whirls happily. “Take that!” She regains her balance, aiming her gun in his direction, and the ghost gulps. “Uh-oh.”
He vanishes, disappearing back into his Guardian’s light, and Crow takes advantage of the distraction to land more shots as the Guardian hurries to climb out of the vent. Two of them give off sparks again but he exhales in relief when he hears the rapid-fire clatter of the Guardian’s rifle above him.
The Guardian moves in closer, combat switching from guns to melee as the two trade kicks and punches, and Crow drags himself back against the wall as he tries to line up a shot. His vision swims but he blinks the blur away as best he can when he sees Khit-3 land a knee to the Guardian’s back and whirl out of reach, her tiny arc charges in hand.
“Guardian!”
The Guardian ducks at Crow’s shout, flinching at the crack of the explosions when the charges hit the wall, and lands a solid uppercut to Khit-3’s jaw. It’s luck rather than skill which gives Crow his angle but he takes it anyway, holding his arm steady long enough to slip a shot up underneath Khit-3’s chin.
Her frame twitches, limbs jerking before she falls limply to the ground, and Crow sighs in relief when her body finally stops moving.
The ghost reappears, flitting with concern around his Guardian’s head. “That was close. Are you okay?”
The Guardian waves him away, stretching out their sore shoulder, and the ghost glances down at Crow instead. “Nice shot!”
“Told you I could fight,” Crow says with a half-smile.
The ghost gives a skeptical hum as he scans his ribs. “And yet you’re in even worse shape now.”
Crow sighs. The ghost isn’t wrong but he doesn’t especially enjoy being reminded of his inadequacy. “Then maybe we should leave?”
The ghost nods. “Good plan.” He gives Crow’s shoulder a friendly nudge as the Guardian moves in to help him to his feet. “You wouldn’t believe how much Glint is dying to patch you up.”
———
“Crow!”
Based on the volume of Glint’s yell, Crow’s pretty sure half the Shore now knows of his return but he straightens up as best he can when Glint comes barrelling happily into his chest.
The impact jars his ribs, forcing him to lean even more heavily on the Guardian’s shoulder as he limps back down to Spider’s safehouse, but even that can’t dampen his relief as he cradles Glint close with his free arm. “Good to see you too.”
Glint beams up at him, light aglow. “You’re still alive!”
“Barely,” Crow admits. “I’d almost forgotten how slow death could be.”
“Well, you’re back now,” Glint says cheerfully. “You can die and come back as much as you like.” He pauses. “Wait, that sounded wrong. Please don’t think I want you to die.”
Crow laughs and winces when the movement only aggravates his injuries. “I know, Glint. I don’t want to die either.”
Glint floats up alongside him, looping happily around both Crow and the Guardian’s heads as he says, “I knew the Guardian would be able to help you.”
The wheezing response comes from the chamber ahead and Crow tenses when Spider drawls, “Yes, it’s certainly nice to have one competent lightmonger on my Shore.”
Slipping free from the Guardian’s hold, Crow sinks to his knees before Spider’s throne. He feels Glint twitch at his shoulder and the Guardian hesitate beside him, but he keeps his eyes on the floor as he says, “I apologise for my failure, Baron.”
Spider’s breath comes out in a huff past the rebreather. “You can leave us, Guardian. I’ll consider this a payment in kind towards your debt.”
It’s the ghost who pipes up, nervous, “We checked out the site where he got taken. It was an ambush — no-one could have made it out of there safely.” He hesitates and sounds almost apologetic when he pleads, “Crow did his best.”
“A pity his best is so lacking,” Spider says, cracking an empty ghost shell between his knuckles. “Leave us. I won’t ask again.”
Crow sees the ghost’s shadow on the floor as its casing spins with indecision but he exhales when he hears the Guardian’s footsteps retreating, ghost in tow. He tugs at his own light and Glint disappears safely from his shoulder, leaving Crow alone in the dark waters of Spider’s anger.
He knows better than to hope this will be quick.
———
When Crow wakes, his body is whole again for the first time in days.
His head aches, that off-kilter sensation that so often follows a resurrection, as though the atoms of his body are still recalling his form, but when he looks down below his collarbone, he’s relieved to see his skin free of bruises and brands.
He’s on the floor of his quarters. From the angle of the blanket covering him, it was dragged there by Glint and he pushes himself up on his elbow as he calls, “Glint? You here?”
Glint swims into view, shell spinning, but there’s a dimness to his light as he says, “I brought you back. Spider… He wasn’t gentle.”
“He’s never gentle,” Crow reminds him.
Despite his violent end, there’s something freeing about this resurrection, about shedding the lingering injuries from Dovrek and his men, and he tests his mended leg with relief as he climbs to his feet. “What’s wrong? I thought you were looking forward to repairing me.”
“I was,” Glint says. “I mean, I did, I-”
He trails off, floating down to rest at Crow’s side when he sits on a stack of crates. “It isn’t fair,” he whispers. “You worked so hard to stay alive, then I get you back and he just-”
His plates shiver and Crow reaches out, stroking his thumb along the ridge of Glint’s shell.
“I came back with a rival’s sigil burned into my skin,” he says softly. “Spider was never going to let me live after that. I knew that.”
“I did too,” Glint admits. “Not about the sigil, I mean — that’s horrible. But he was so angry when you were captured. He almost seemed worried.”
Crow frowns. “About me?”
He tries to picture it but comes up blank.
“Not about your safety,” Glint says. “I think he was concerned about the threat to his authority. From Dovrek.”
“I suppose we should be more careful in future,” Crow says with a sigh. “I’m used to watching my back for people who want to kill the person I used to be — I need to start worrying about people who want to kill me for who I am now. Spider has a lot of enemies.”
“And now they’re our enemies too,” Glint says miserably. “I still think it isn’t fair. You’re not Spider. If they want to fight, they should take it up with him, not you.”
He floats up to Crow’s chest, eye flickering over the now-healed spot where Dovrek branded him as he says, dejected, “Why do we always get new enemies instead of new friends?”
Crow smiles at that, scooping Glint close. “What, am I not enough for you now?”
Glint’s eye twinkles, even as he looks up with a feigned scowl. “You know what I mean.” He tilts in contemplation. “That Guardian did seem eager to rescue you though. I didn’t even have to bribe them or anything. Do you think they count as a friend?”
Crow’s chest aches at the thought but he pushes it back down quickly. “I think they wanted to stay on Spider’s good side,” he says. “He’s important to them.”
“I guess,” Glint says. He pauses for a moment then hovers hopefully in front of Crow’s face. “Or maybe you’re important to them too?”
Crow swallows hard. He wants to correct him, to clarify that he’s still just property to be discarded when it’s outlived its usefulness, but in the face of Glint’s relentless optimism, he doesn’t have the heart to drag him back to reality.
Instead he gives Glint a small smile and tries not to let himself believe it when he says, “Maybe I am.”