Page 21 of Mindeater

“Why are you upset with me?” His voice was small, stomach sinking. Hadn’t they grown past this? They shared a bed, meals, and time. Ryx knew all of Saren’s secrets, and what few he let Saren have, he kept and cherished. Saren stayed up half the night to make sure Ryx didn’t have night terrors because he was afraid of the dark. Permanent candle fixtures lit the room so it was always bright. He read to him, taught him everything he wanted to learn, showed him his secret stash of knitted sweaters and how to tie knots. “You’re my best friend. You know I’ll protect you.”

Ryx’s face softened. “I know,” he whispered, calming significantly. “I know. I’m sorry it’s just—”

“Then?”

Slumping onto the bench by their window, Ryx raked a hand through his hair. “I wish I could make you see the truth. But you can’t see it.”

Saren inched closer. “What truth? You mean rebellion propaganda?”

Ryx waved his hand as if to say, yes, that.

“It’s not true.”

“It is.” The boy snapped his head up, those steel eyes burning with urgency. “You haven’t seen what I have. Didn’t live what I lived. It was so fucking dark, Saren.” He started to shake. “So loud and hot. I couldn’t breathe without tasting the oil.”

“What are you talking about?” He couldn’t stand there anymore. He needed to be closer to Ryx. The urge to brush his mastery over the boy and remove his fear was so strong he almost tried. “Please,” he begged, fingers twitching to touch him. “Tell me what happened so I can make sure it never happens again.”

“You can’t do that,” Ryx said on an exhale. “Not even you can stop it.”

“I have,” he insisted. “Every time I go to the council, I stop it. They don’t suspect.”

They shared a look, then. One so open it hurt. Two boys who only had each other in a world that would tear them apart.

“Can you keep a secret?” Ryx whispered, silver eyes completely unguarded.

The way Ryx lifted some of his armor was like a strike of lightning to his heart. Finally, the boy was trusting him. Finally, he’d earned it. He wouldn’t let Ryx live to regret it either.

Saren nodded. “Yes,” he said gently. “I promise.”

“I came from the mines of Red Hill.”

7

Ryx

Saren didn’t know his real name or how hard he’d tried to hate the Telex boy.

And Ryx had tried. Gods, he’d tried.

There was something wicked about Saren that ate away at every wall Ryx had put up to defend against him. He didn’t know if it was Saren’s lilac eyes, or his freckles, or his genuine need to care, but Ryx was well and truly trapped in his world now. Lost in the waves of instinctual possession.

So while he didn’t hate Saren, there were still things he couldn’t tell the Telex boy who’d become his only friend.

Saren didn’t know he was one year older, or that he couldn’t remember what real food tasted like until Patryn brought him home. At first, it was anger and defiance. Then, it was fear. Fear of what would happen if he trusted anyone again. After all, the last person he trusted betrayed him, put that thing inside him, and that was how he ended up being shipped off to New Grove as a prisoner. Shackles around his limbs and neck.

But Saren Ashford wasn’t Beatrice Melan. He was a boy, just like Ryx, not a grown beta looking for a quick payday. Because no one suspected the verbally stunted child stowed away in the oil mines as anything but a forgotten soul. He’d been stashed there deliberately, lost to the world that would’ve killed him just for breathing. How could he tell Saren that?

It’d ruin everything.

Ryx couldn’t risk it. He…cared now. About Saren, specifically. He wouldn’t risk something this precious.

“The mines? What mines? Ryx, you’re scaring me.”

He was scared, too.

For as long as he could remember, Telex eyes frightened him. The unnatural violet they all shared. No variations existed. Only that fucking purple that meant they held the power and you didn’t. He was taught to hide and keep his ears covered. Never cut his hair, and control his tremors. Only humans were safe—Telex were not. He’d be tortured and imprisoned before finally slaughtered for sport. Balling his fists, he flexed his jaw while closing his eyes.

“Please.” It was a whisper.