“Eos, stop this,” the woman was saying to her apprentice, her voice full of emotions that I couldn’t comprehend. “It doesn’t matter what happens to us. He’s right… we’re past our usefulness. But there’s a place for you, Eos.”
“But what about—” Eos began, and the woman sucked in her breath, a panic-stricken noise. I looked at her, my curiosity mingled with suspicion. Eos’ eyes flicked to me for just a heartbeat; then he finished, as if it was what he’d meant all along, “—you and Phados?”
A glimmer of movement out of the corner of my eye. I jerked my head around just in time to see the shadow disappear back into the hallway. But this time, I knew what I saw. My words rose above the agitated voices of the plivoi and Ketros.
“Who was that boy?” I asked.
Everyone froze. The two farmers’ age-lightened skin paled considerably. For the first time, as Eos’ eyes raked over me, I thought I saw a tinge of fear replacing the anger in them.
“What did you say?” Ketros asked.
Eos held my gaze for a long moment. His gray eyes seemed to be pleading with me, begging me not to repeat my question.
I looked away from him.
“I saw a boy in the next room,” I answered, looking only at Ketros. “The records show that the only residents in this household are these two—” I gestured to the farmers, “—and the apprentice, Eos. So. Who was that boy I saw?”
One more moment of silence; and then, abruptly, Eos yelled, “Run, Nikos!” He hurled himself away from us and into the next room.