Sibling Sleepovers

“This is your covert waiting spot?” she asked the boy in a harsh whisper, eyes flickering embers as her face poorly masked the frustration she felt.

“Yes. Isn’t it smart?” His soft reply was to the thin fog that surrounded them. He hadn’t turned to look at her as yet.

Astra could feel the energy radiating off her then. She was so close to him. So close to reaching out and wrapping her arm around his neck and letting him join the bodies that lay beneath them.

But she resisted the urge. He was her partner for the time being. As much as killing him might have pacified her, she knew that doing so would mark her as a criminal on both sides of the war. Well, that and the fact that, as much as it pained her to admit it, the boy was her brother.

“It’s a bloody graveyard, Axel.”

“As if you’ve never been to one before. It’s a perfect relaxing spot for you: cold, dark, abandoned, and full of death.” Axel finally turned, a smug grin resting upon his face. He looked down at his sister; though his stance was dominating, his eyes were playful, glinting mischievously. His face was relaxed, arms at ease. It was easy to see that he was comfortable there. And Astra saw that.

“I think, if anyone, you like it here the most. Your body language says that much.”

“Maybe I am. At least I am admitting it. You should learn something from me you know? Take some tips from your dashing older brother—”

“Relax, you’re only a year older. And you’re far from dashing.”

Axel scoffed. “A year is three hundred sixty-five days, dear sister. That is fifty-two weeks. And twelve months. Which is a long time.”

“It seems you’ve forgotten I went to school, too, dear brother. I know how long a year is,” she answered, mocking him.

“I had forgotten. It’s quite easy, you see, since I don’t know half of what you mumble about sometimes.” The easy-going grin was still on his face, even as he crouched on the ground, a hand in his bag.

Astra stood in front of him, her own bag still secured over her shoulders and her arms akimbo, watching as he rummaged for a metal gray disc. When his hand emerged with the silver object, he exclaimed victoriously and placed it on the ground between them.

“You might want to crouch down. Unless…” he trailed off, his grin widening.

Astra wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but she decided it was for the better if she did as he suggested. That way, she could complain about it to her uncle if it came up later. Perks of being the younger, long-lost child, she thought to herself. She got down, tiny rocks and bits of gravel protruding against her smooth palms as she shifted her weight on one knee.

She watched curiously as her brother pressed a button at the centre of the disk, then two on the sides. It let out a slow, soft beep. Then another. It was probably supposed to be almost inaudible, but in the silence of the night, it sounded too loud. Like it could give them away. That is if their bickering already hadn’t.

Suddenly, she was aware of all her surroundings. Astra looked around, her focus diverted from what Axel was doing. She glanced at the mist that cloaked their hunched forms, simultaneously blocking her view of the rest of the graveyard. Two of the moons were out: one, a waxing gibbous and the other, a crescent in a clear charcoal sky. The Andromeda constellation was slightly visible in the east, and the stellimicans galaxy shone in hues of red and white, both celestial objects contrasting the dull canvas it was painted on.

Astra was so immersed in the sky, that when she heard a ruffle at her feet, her heart caught in her throat and her hand went to the knife attached to the holster on her calf. When a net of black fabric shot out over her head, she didn’t think twice of it, and in one swift move, she turned to where the sound had come from, arm extended and blade in hand.

What she found at her feet was the disk that Axel was toying with before. It now had a steel rod sticking out of it and over her head, about four feet high. From the end of the rod, the thin black tarp of a tent spread out, securing itself in four corners; the tent was about seven feet in length and four feet in width. It was enough space for both of them to comfortably rest and wait for the signal at dawn.

Astra’s eyes snapped up to meet her brother’s. She was struggling to keep the colour from flushing her face. His face was scrunched up, crows feet visible at the corners of his eyes as he sucked in his lips. A smile still somehow slipped through, followed by a snicker.

Astra looked away. She slid her knife back in its place and clipped the holster tight. Her shoulders were still stiff, still ready to attack, and her legs were tense. She somehow managed to take off the pack from her back with a front of ease. As she placed the bag at her side and turned to kneel in front of it, a muscle in her back cramped. She bit her lower lip, afraid of making a noise, and scrunched her eyes shut. Astra waited for a few moments to pass before opening them again.

Just then, a dim light flickered to life behind her. She kept still, trying not to move until she was sure the pain had passed. There was a moment of silence, then a shuffling sound was heard at her back. She took a deep breath and tried to roll her shoulders slowly. When there was no resistance from her body, she bent down and retrieved a tightly rolled black sleeping bag from her pack.

“Astra,” her brother said softly as if she were a rabbit he was trying to coax out of a burrow. He really had no idea what she was like. When Astra didn’t turn, he repeated her name, just as gently.

“What?” It was a quick response: short and curt.

“Here.” Axel placed his hand on her shoulder and she craned her neck to see that he was holding a small black tube. Salve. She turned, her knees readjusting so she could easily reach for the medicine. Just when her hand was in reach, Axel pulled his hand away.

She thought he was going to ask her about her back. Astra herself wanted to ask him how he had figured it out in the first place. But she said nothing, her lips drawn taut in a line.

“I am dashing, just so you know.”

“What?” Astra looked at her brother incredulously. What was he going on about? Realisation dawned as she remembered the conversation they were having before. “Oh. No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

Astra held back a laugh, trying to keep a serious face in front of Axel. “Brother, I feel sorry for the poor person who has to date you.”

“Ouch. That was mean,” he said, a dramatic pout on his lips. This time, she didn’t hold back. Clutching her side, her face pinched up in silent laughter at her brother’s ridiculous face. The tent was filled with the soft sounds of Astra’s laughs. Axel fought a smile, though the slight tilt on the corner of his mouth gave away his amusement.

“Truth hurts.” She shrugged with a smile when she composed herself. “The balm, please? It may not soothe your bruised ego but you were giving it to me anyway.” Astra held out her hand expectantly.

“Again, ouch. It's like you have no faith in me dear sister. But no, I will not give you the balm.” He defiantly crossed his arms and legs, sitting on the ground comfortably. Astra just stared at him blankly; Axel looked about as threatening as a baby koala.

“Why not?”

“Well, you won't get the balm until you tell me what happened just now.” An easy smile was now on his face, though his eyes were completely serious.

“Fine. Forget it in that case.”

Axel blinked. “What?”

“I said,” she paused for emphasis, “that you could forget about it.”

“You weren’t supposed to say that,” he mumbled, his brows furrowing as he turned his gaze to a spot on the dead grass near him.

“What do you mean?”

“You were supposed to tell me how you were feeling and talk to me about it. Not ignore it.” Axel didn’t look up. It was as if the grass had the answer to why Astra wouldn’t talk to him openly.

Astra remained silent, watching him watch the ground. She didn’t know what to say. Trusting people since her grand departure had proven to be a task, and she had only reunited with her brother two fortnights ago. She reminded him of this fact, adding:

“I didn’t even know I had any siblings until my untimely getaway from the monarchy.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. Well, that and the fact that a lot of the people you’ve come across have tried to kill you,” Axel said with a chuckle. His eyes were back on hers, no longer muddled in his thoughts.

“For the record, they wouldn’t have succeeded, even if Father hadn’t stepped in to stop them.”

“Someone’s awfully confident.” He drew out the words, a small part of him hoping for some information from her. Astra shifted so that she was sitting in a more comfortable manner. She was facing Axel properly now.

“I could kill every one of those men before they even had the chance to blink. You would be surprised at the wonders an ability like that does for one’s confidence.” It was her turn to point her chin in the air.

“Huh,” Axel scoffed. “You really think so? Those men have been training for the war since they could walk. They have around 25 years of experience. Each. Do you really think you could win against those odds?”

“Dear brother,” Astra started with a chuckle, “You have much to learn.” Shaking her head, she grunted and stood up. Her back was hunched in order not to come in contact with the top of the tent.

Opening out a sleeping back, Astra didn’t bother unlacing her boots as she laid on top of the cool fabric. She closed her eyes and did not look back at her brother, knowing what she would find: a confused boy thrown into a man’s future.

***

The grass they had settled on was dry now. Granted, it was better than the dewy mass it had been before. Astra remembered where they had set up the tent; it was ten paces from the nearest tombstone. Of course, ten paces was not enough to rid her body of the chilling shiver that had settled in her bones.

She had the constant feeling that she was being watched, and, although her back was to Axel, Astra heard his soft snores, confirming that he was asleep. There was the occasional breeze that brushed against the tent, but it never moved their shelter.

Astra moved her hand down to her holster, removing the knife from its leather nest. The blade glinted with the dim light that filtered through the fabric. It was sharp. She had made sure of that before leaving the base. It was a simple dagger, with no embellishments on the silver blade or the black hilt; it was small enough to conceal and wield with ease but large enough to pass through someone’s chest.

She turned the blade in her hands, just above the stunted blades of sickly grass, thinking about the person who had given it to her. Astra couldn’t remember them for the life of her. All she remembered was training with it one day and having it stuck to her the next.

Her eyes darted from the dagger when the tent shifted with a loud thump against the side. She gripped the hilt and tensed, waiting for more movement. Astra had never been one for ghost stories. She heard many in the past few years but there was never any solid proof of incandescent dead people, only drunken men and women looking for a crowd to scare.

But even her disbelief was not enough to put her at ease. She knew it was not a breeze. They were in a graveyard at night, no one else in their right minds would be there too.

There was another thump. It sounded closer in comparison, though Astra didn’t see a shadow approaching her. She then reminded the irrational part of her brain that even if ghosts were more than just tall tales, they couldn’t touch her. At least, as far as she knew. She never really did pay attention to the stories.

The ground behind her back crunched and she spun as fast as she could. Axel. Of course. How could she have forgotten that her brother was with her? She wasn’t alone.

But as she spun, her armed hand drove the blade into the ground next to her. She barely registered the action until she felt the warmth of a liquid and looked at where she had struck.

A dark liquid was oozing from the wound and her hand was still clenched around the hilt of the dagger. Astra had driven her blade into the chest of her brother.

Her breathing hitched, face paling in the dark. She couldn’t see Axel’s face, but she could hear the ragged breathing from his mouth. Astra blinked, looking back at her hand over his chest. Suddenly she drew back, leaping from the dagger as if it were a flame she had touched. If it were a flame, it would have scorched her. Not just her hands, but her mind as well; and her stone heart, and her dark soul. Astra let out an almost inaudible gasp.

She had stabbed the one flickering light that stayed in with her in the dark.

“No.” Her voice trembled as she spoke. “No. No. No.” Astra repeated the word over and over like a chant, hoping and—for the first time in her life—praying that she was just in a nightmare. But it all felt too real, too warm to be a dream. She really had just killed her brother. The person who tried to help her last. The person she kept pushing away.

Astra wrung her hands in her lap, begging the trembling of her body to stop as she realised what had happened. When something struck the tent again, a white-hot flash of fear passed through her, before being replaced by a vision of red. Whatever was out there, she was ready to take it head-on. Or die beside her brother while trying.

She thought about Axel, but before she could even move, there was a soft thud, followed by a crack. Astra's vision went black as the throbbing in her head increased, like an old heavy metal band reaching the climax of their song. She didn’t move. No. Astra found she couldn’t move.

There was a chill in the air and she felt the hair on her arms rise as a presence moved to her side. It was a good thing her vision and body were not functioning then. If she had seen the dark boots of a silver figure hovering by her ear, there was no doubt she would have struck at it.

The last thing she heard was a whisper that froze her to the core, bringing back all the memories of darkened rooms, broken bones and rivers of blood.

“Alas, we meet again dear Astra.”