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The creaking of a door broke Talia from her meditation. Her eyes slid open and her lips pinched, ready to tear into whoever dared disturb her. When she saw who it was, however, her eyes softened, mouth tugging into a soft smile. “Jason.”
The boy gazed vacantly over her head, eyes wide in the peculiar unseeing way she had grown used to after four months. She patted the ground in front of her and he shuffled in, closing the door with the same slow care he did everything. He plopped down in front of her, staring over her left shoulder. “How are you today, Jason?” He didn’t respond, merely rocking back and forth a little, but that was alright, she didn’t expect him to. “I have had a busy day. First I had to oversee some of the graduating trainees to make sure they were on track for initiation, then I had to make some calls for my father. Running the League is expensive, you know, and we have many front organizations set up around the world to bring in revenue. That is why it is important to know many languages, so you can converse with people in their own tongues.”
His gaze flicked to her nose, then to the shiny clip fastened in her hair, then back over her shoulder. Talia’s smile grew. She did not understand how her father could not see the progress Jason was making. He would never have even glanced at her in the beginning, preferring to stare at the floor. “I closed a very important deal with a Chinese company. Father was pleased.” As she spoke, his rocking slowed and his hands disappeared into his sleeves. Another sign her father was blind to. When Jason felt uncertain or under stress, his hands were always out of his sleeves, ready to counter an attack at a moment’s notice. When he was relaxed, he preferred to hide them, perhaps for warmth, a hangover from a childhood of ill-fitting clothes. She had instructed the tailor to leave some extra length in his sleeves after she had seen him tugging at them, brow wrinkled in frustration.
“Then I went over the accounts with Father, making sure everything was as it should be. We have a new accountant, an Indian boy named Aditya. He is very good, very quick with numbers. He reported a disparity and we discovered one of our generals was using our funds for his own gain. The general is being dealt with and Aditya was given a promotion.” Talia glanced at the water clock dripping on a table against the wall. “It is time for lunch, Habibi. Shall we go meet your brother?”
Jason’s head jerked a little at the mention of Damian and he clambered to his feet, waiting for her to take his hand before moving. Talia smiled as his fingers squeezed hers.
The scent of incense filled the air and Talia inhaled, letting the warmth run from her lungs to the tips of her fingers and toes. She was mid-exhale when a voice shattered the peaceful silence:
“This isn’t working.”
Talia did not allow her exhale to become a sigh. Only when she had finished the breath did she open her eyes. Jason scowled at her from his mat. “What seems to be the problem?” she asked, face not budging from its calm expression.
“It’s not working,” the boy repeated, brows drawing even further together.
“So you said. I am unsure what you mean by ‘not working’.”
“I’m not calm or whatever! How’m I s'posed ta clear my mind by just sittin’ here?” His accent grew stronger when he was annoyed. It was endearing and made it difficult to take him seriously, but she didn’t allow that to show on her face.
“You cannot force your mind into harmony with your body and surroundings. You must accept any thoughts and release them, understanding they are unimportant in this moment. Have you been focusing on your mantra?”
“This’s stupid.”
Talia did not raise her eyes to heaven, but she wanted to. This was the third method of meditation they had attempted and Jason had very firmly rebuffed every one. “Meditation allows your body and mind to fully comprehend each other,” she said for what felt like the millionth time. “If you are not comfortable with your body you will make mistakes. Mistakes are unacceptable. Now focus on your mantra.”
Jason grumbled but closed his eyes, brow scrunching as he mouthed the word. Talia narrowed her eyes when his mumbled “harmony” became “fuck this.” She rapped him sharply on the head with the keisaku resting by her mat.
“Ow!” He glared at her, rubbing at his head. “What was that for?”
“You should not curse. It is unbecoming.”
“So’s bein’ a bitch but that doesn’t seem ta- ow!”
She rested the keisaku on her knees. “You say you wish to kill your father.” She ignored his automatic protest at the word ‘father’, plowing ahead. “You will not be able to do so if you cannot even focus for a few minutes.” Jason snarled at the reminder, eyes blazing green, but Talia merely raised an eyebrow. Nearly two months with the boy had desensitized her to the rage of the Pit. “All the bombs in the world cannot get you close enough to plant them. You have given yourself a deadline, Jason, one which rapidly approaches.”
Privately she rejoiced at the delay, at Jason’s stubborn refusal to follow directions. It meant he could fail, and while that would bring a host of other difficulties, they would be more manageable than the death of her Beloved. She told herself that was the only reason, that the bands around her heart, tightening with every day that passed, had nothing to do with the stubborn, brash boy in front of her. He had made his choice and she would not hold him. She could only hope that maybe, someday, he would return.
“I’ll be fine.”
I can only hope so. She crushed the thought and painted disbelief on her face, enough that he could not miss it. One corner of her mouth raised in a challenging smirk. Jason stiffened. So easy to nettle, she thought, amused. She made sure he could hear that amusement, shifted just over the line into mockery, when she spoke. “Prove it.”