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Dust's parents had described the day of his birth as a happy but difficult day. Happy, because the now had another child. Difficult, because as soon as his eyelights had blinked into being, they were mismatched.
One bright blue, and the other bright red. Dust was one of the youngest Gracelings, as far as his family knew, with his eyes being different colors from day one.
Dust's brother had described it all as the worst thing that ever happened and claimed it had all been a shitshow.
Dust can't fault him for that. Wraith had been nine when Dust was born, with friends and an apprenticeship and a life that had been thrown to the wind within days. Dust had been born in the last weeks of the year; by two weeks into the new year, his family had settled into a new life in Nim City.
Wraith had been made to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, because on the off-chance someone decided to blab, their parents would be killed. Witholding a Graceling from the crown was considered treason in Nix, and an executable offense.
On the day Wraith was meant to begin apprenticing under the local carpenter, he was instead across the border of Arbre, two days out from Nim City, walking alongside the family horse as it pulled a wagon containing little else but the essentials, as well as Dust and their mother.
Dust doesn't remember it.
His first memory is from years after their flight. His parents, established as alchemists in Nim City, had been invited to speak with the Queen and her spymaster. Wraith had been left in charge of him for the evening.
As evening stretched into night, Dust grew hungry, and bored. Wraith had retreated to his room, looking unhappy, as soon as their parents had left. Dust had knocked on the door several times, whimpering with hunger, until he had finally annoyed Wraith enough that he poked his head out.
"You can go hungry for one night," his older brother groused. "Small price to pay for ruining my life!"
The door had slammed shut in his face. Wraith hadn't gotten into trouble, because as soon as he heard their parents coming back, he'd opened his door to pretend that Dust had simply decided to have a wander around the house. Dust had been too young to explain anything besides "Hungry!"
His childhood went on like that, with Wraith resenting him for something he couldn't control. His parents tried, but they were busy, and their mother grew sick.
Dust was five when she passed, and Wraith was fourteen. Their father threw himself into his studies, coming home at increasingly erratic hours, until one day, when Dust was nearly seven, he just never came home.
Wraith spent a lot of time ignoring him after that. He grew increasingly surly when Dust's impending induction into the service of Queen Nim was brought up, and at ten Dust ended up showing up to the castle without any shoes on, since Wraith had refused to use his earnings to pay the cobbler for shoes that actually fit.
He had been meant to meet the Queen and Princes on his first day, to dedicate himself to their service, but the guard who had met him at the gates had shook his head and murmured something about getting shoes.
So Dust went home in his bare feet, too embarrassed to tell the guard that he didn't own any shoes.
When he arrived home, something seemed off about the door, but he couldn't place it until he tried to fit his key into the lock. The lock had been changed.
"Wraith!" Dust calls, banging on the door in hopes that his brother would hear him. "Wraith!"
The door doesn't open. There isn't even a sign that his brother has heard him, even though Dust can see a light through the window. With a sigh, he turns around and heads back to the castle.
The same guard who had sent him home raises an eyebrow when he sees Dust coming back. Probably because the scruffy Graceling he had just sent away was now returning, still barefoot and wearing the exact same tattered rags as when he left.
"I don't own any shoes," Dust says softly before he asks. "And my brother has locked me out of the house. So I have no money, and no one who will buy me shoes, either."
He isn't sure if it's pity or just annoyance, but the guard brings him to the throne room. Queen Nim and Prince Dream are present, along with a few guards, but Prince Nightmare is missing. It takes Dust a moment to remember that he'd suffered some kind of head injury, so he's probably still on bedrest.
He tries not to look at the Queen or Prince as he recites the pledge being fed to him by one of the guards, because he doesn't want to see their pity.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. He's taken to the cobbler and given sturdy boots, and informed that the Queen has specified that his allowance is not to be used on such a necessity at this time. His face burns, but thankfully he's left alone after that, in the tiny little room that he's been assigned in the guards dormitory.
He throws himself into his work. He follows the head guards like a shadow, and sees his brother in passing when he goes into town. Each time, Wraith's eyelights burn with hatred as he hides his angry frown behind his scarf.
Dust doesn't bother approaching him. He figures it will end in a physical fight.
It's when he's following around a spy that his penchant for stealth is noticed. He startles his superiors without meaning to, and once even startles Neil, Prince Dream's guard, while on an errand. Some of the guards joke that he should wear a bell.
Queen Nim herself is the one who brings it up, after Dust startles her while delivering notes one morning. Normally, when Dust arrives in the shadow of whatever guard he's tailing that day, the Queen is already alert and expecting them. He's heard it before — the stairwell up to the Queen's office tends to make one's steps echo. He guesses it's on purpose, but it still surprises him when the Queen looks surprised to see him.
"Come and sit, Dust," she says, recovering from her shock well enough, gesturing to one of the chairs on the other side of her desk.
Dust does so with a bowed head. "Thank you, Lady Queen. From the guards who left for the farms on the Nixian border," he says, handing over the notes he'd been carrying.
"Thank you." She takes the notes, but doesn't open them yet, instead slipping them beneath a paperweight to look at later. "Has your Grace been discovered yet? I do wonder…"
"No, Lady Queen. The spies say it has something to do with stealth, but I'm not sure what."
Queen Nim is quiet for a moment, tapping her fingers on her desk. Then, she says, "Go back downstairs, and then come back up. However, on your way up, focus on your steps. Consciously think about the noise they make." As Dust stands, she adds, "Do not step heavier than you usually do, either — just think about the noise you would expect to make."
"Yes, Lady Queen," Dust says, bowing slightly before going back the way he came.
At the foot of the staircase, he takes a deep breath. Then, he begins walking up the stairs again, thinking about how his boots should make the same thunk, thunk, thunk on the stairs as his comrades' do. He can hear it in his head, if not in reality,
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
This time, when he arrives in her office, the Queen is waiting for him. With a warm smile, she says, "I think we've discovered your Grace, Dust."
"What do you think it is, Lady Queen?" Dust asks, genuinely unsure.
"The ability to move silently," Queen Nim replies, pleased. "You don't make noise while walking unless you're consciously thinking about it — what a talent!" Quickly, she scribbles something onto a spare page, likely in a shorthand cipher. "Deliver this to the spymaster, please."
"Yes, Lady Queen." Dust bows slightly once more, before turning.
"And, Dust," she calls. Dust turns, and she smiles that same warm smile again. It reminds him of his mother, a little. "Welcome, in earnest, to your service to the crown. Tell your fellows to celebrate you, and your newly discovered Grace."
Bashfully, Dust ducks his head. "Thank you, Lady Queen," he mumbles, before finally hightailing it out of the office. He slows near the bottom of the stairwell, paying attention to his footsteps…
All the way down, there was no sound except his own breathing, loud in his skull. But he didn't hear any footsteps until he paid attention.
…What a Grace. He spent his whole childhood hiding from his irritable brother, and now it's discovered that that had practically been his Grace the whole time.
At least someone was proud of him, even if that someone is the Queen, who benefits from his Grace. Still… her smile and pride had been genuine.
Dust smiles to herself. Celebrate, she had said.
He stands up a bit straighter, making his way to the dorms. Blue would certainly be up for a celebration, and he's sure some of the older, seasoned guards will be too. It's not everyday that a Grace is discovered, and even less that a useful Grace is.
Dust grins to himself, and he doesn't think of his brother for the rest of the night.