Blackfeather Woods and you've seen too much

The poetic way Cicero spoke irritated him— and he didn't know why— but his attitude mounted when his brother brought up Meldresi. His mother was a figment of his imagination. And he was starting to hate her, resenting her honored absence. Indigo eyes rolled towards the Gamma, sizing up the older male. Pietro couldn't wait until he was large enough to dominate him. The pompous king'sson snorted, completely ignoring Cicero's inference to the All-Knowing. The absence of any truly kept secrets.

Two may keep a secret, if one of them is dead.

"She's dead, so it's a secret." Pietro frowned, and pulled ahead, leading rather than following now, suddenly impatient with his brother's shaky pace. "Would you like me to keep your secret?" he asked as they reached the water, bending down to take a drink before his poisoned sibling contaminated the run. He assumed that Cicero couldn't honestly care either way it went, but he asked anyway. Any opportunity, the boy would would take.