“How do I show you that I mean it? That what we just did is what I wanted? Not a test or an…experiment.” I pause, letting out a huff of frustration. “I’m trying to be better, Athena. I’m trying to prove it to you. Didn’t I ask for your consent tonight? In the study, and just now?”
I can’t see very well in the darkness, but I swear she rolls her eyes.
“That should be the bare fucking minimum,” she mutters. “Go ahead, tell me you’re going to punish me for my attitude or whatever. Just don’t keep pretending to be something you’re not.”
I hadn’t thought those words could hurt. I hadn’t thought I’d ever react to her saying something like that with anything but anger and a promise of pain to come.
But for the first time, I find myself wishing that she didn’t feel that way.
That I could find some way to prove to her that I want things to be different now.
For both of us.
Dean
Going back to my childhood home is never something I particularly enjoy. There’s better food, of course, than even what we enjoy at the Blackmoor House on campus. That part is always something to look forward to. But on the other hand, I have to endure a conversation with my father.
I also have to get up early this particular morning, because he’s specifically requested that I join him for breakfast. Why it needed to bethatmeal, and not one during a more acceptable time of the day like, say, lunch, or even dinner, I have no idea.
Actually, I do. It’s because, above all else, my father enjoys exerting control. And he enjoys forcing his own ideals onto others, like, say—the idea that one should get up before 7 am.
I’ve never been a particular fan of early rising, but even more so than usual today after I was woken up last night by the sounds coming from Cayde’s room. Clearly, he was enjoying Athena on his own, despite how thoroughly we’d worn her out. My only consolation was that ifIcould hear the noises, Jaxon definitely could, which is exactly what he deserves after the way he’s been acting lately.
That’s how I’ve found myself sitting to the left of my father at the grossly large dining table in the exceptionally large dining room of my childhood home—or rather, mansion—eating poached eggs and smoked salmon before eight o’clock in the morning.
The look on my father’s face when I sit down, dressed uncomfortably in the dress pants and button-down shirt that I know he expects, a merino wool sweater over it against the cold, tells me that nothing about this breakfast is going to be pleasant.
Not even the food, since I’ve never really understood how anyone can eat cold fish in the morning before they’re barely awake. Something he knows, and I’m sure is why it’s what was served today.
“I’ve heard the rumors,” he says without preamble, taking a deep drink of the coffee that is precisely as black as his demeanor this morning. “Athena has become a liability, I hear. As has Cayde St. Vincent.”
“Are you asking me if they’re true?” I keep my tone casual, not wanting to confirm one way or another as I force down a bite of the salmon and egg.
“I know they’re true,” he snaps. “I don’t think the entire campus would be collectively talking about it if it weren’t true. Some parents are pissed. You do understand the implications of this, right? Not only has it put your future in jeopardy and the future of our family, but it’s given others a window into the things we do that were never meant to be public. I’m not surprised that the little biker slut came up with something so vulgar, but Iamsurprised that Cayde played along. Doesn’t he see that he’s risking everything by doing that?”
“I don’t pretend to know what’s going on in Cayde’s mind,” I say tiredly. Actually, Cayde has given me averyclear view into what’s going on in his head, and I’m beginning to come around to his way of thinking, truth be told. What has our fathers’ way of doing things brought any of us, really, other than exhaustion and stress and pain?
I’d believed in this once, in the traditions of Blackmoor. But after what happened to Athena—I don’t know what I believe anymore. I only know that whatever we’ve been doing, it’s not working.
Cayde has been my best friend since I was a child. We’ve been at odds recently, but things are changing now. And I have a feeling it’s going to leave a great many of my father’s ideals in the dust.
My father leans forward, snapping his fingers in my face. “I’m speaking to you, son,” he says harshly. “You need to do something about this. You are my heir, the eldest Blackmoor son, and it’s up toyouto handle this.”
I look at him, setting my fork down, barely able to mask my impatience. “What, exactly, am I supposed to do about it? What’s done is done. What do you want me to do, murder Cayde?”
He narrows his eyes, looking at me shrewdly. “Do you think you could do that?”
It’s all I can do to keep my mouth from dropping open. “What?” Horror spreads through me as I look at my father’s face, which is as serious as, well—death. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Don’t use that language at my table.”
I take a deep breath, doing all I can to keep control of my emotions. “Cayde is like my brother,” I say finally. “We grew up together. We were raised to think of each other as brothers. And now you want me to—what? Kill my brother because we’re at odds over a girl? Over tradition? It’s not that serious.Nothingis—”
My father brings his fist down on the table, so hard and sharp that I nearly jump, stopping myself just in time.
“It’sexactlythat serious,” he growls, his eyes narrowed and angry, focused on me. “It’s not just a girl. It’s the whole town. It’s our family legacy.Thatis what’s at stake here. Not just the whore we gave you boys to play with. Hundreds of years of tradition, sacrifices through the centuries made to give you what you have today. Do you understand that?”
I can feel my gut tightening, anger heating my blood as I meet his gaze, staring him down.I’m done with this,I think, feeling my jaw tense as I try to think of what to say, to measure my response. I’m done with sitting across tables, being told what a shitty son I am, that I’m failing the family legacy, of being told to betray my best friends.