“If it goes well, we will have an engagement between your brother and the Infernus heiress. Two families of great power joined. As you can imagine, the pressure for this Thanksgiving to go well is immense. Immense enough that you and Aleera are not invited to attend. This is not an insult to you both. It is in acknowledgment of the fact that neither of you will respect what is happening, and you stand a good chance of driving away the most important meeting that our family has had in decades.”
“Not an insult to us, huh?” Cyrus felt a red-hot anger stirring beneath his skin, threatening to make him transform. “It sounds awfully like an insult that you would disinvite us from a family occasion like this.” Not that Cyrus actually wanted to go there for Thanksgiving, but it still hurt to hear this brazen statement from the patriarch of the family. He knew Aleera wouldn’t care at all – in fact, she’d probably want to drag him out for drinks to celebrate – but it felt like another icy spear in his side, another reminder of how different he was, how disappointing he was.
Hell, if his father had asked himnicelyabout this stupid dinner, Cyrus would have turned up dressed in his best and behaving well – smiling politely – everything, just to prove the old man wrong and to see his mother smile. His mother tended to not to disagree with whatever his father said. Oh, she’d do some things quietly behind his back, like sneak a treat to someone when no one was looking – but other than that, her influence didn’t stretch far.
His father smiled, swilling the wine in its cup before polishing it off. “If it bothers you, I’m sure we can arrange for something else another time. But right now, there is too much at stake for this Thanksgiving to risk the black sheep of the family driving away the Infernuses.”
Cyrus stared into his father’s eyes, seeing nothing but the cold swirl of ambition. The man obviously had backup plans if Cyrus intended to disagree, to protest about the situation, to plot to gate-crash.
“I am fine with not going to this Thanksgiving. And I’m fine with continuing to do bouts in the dragon pits. I won’t do them often, just enough to build a reputation, to generate interest and fight commissions for those who want to try their luck against my form. After all, what draws people’s attention better than freaks of nature?”
Torag sighed. “We agree on some things it seems.” He drew himself up to his full height. “My wife does want to see you and your sister. She wants to go on a shopping trip next week for you both, get you some new clothes, since she’s convinced neither of you are doing much with your wardrobes.” He shook his head, making his way to the door.
“Sure, we’ll be there.”
No more words. His father slipped out of sight, and Cyrus felt the tension melt in his body – tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding on to.
He slumped onto the sofa, idly swirling his wine and thinking about the Thanksgiving that he was forbidden to attend; wealthy families clustered together and his brother taking a shot at getting a wife.
Cyrus’ own love life wasn’t exactly as exciting. He did have offers over the years, of course – it wasn’t like his father brought him up in sheer invisibility. Not like Aleera, who Torag didn’t even realize was a daughter of his until her mother died and Aleera needed a home. By then, of course, she’d picked up a number of human mannerisms.
It was always interesting to consider that his father had strayed in the past – dallied with humans. Something about humanity appealed to him. Humans were more passionate, more life loving because they lived shorter lives.
Speaking of humans… Cyrus’ mind drifted to the woman he’d helped in the alleyway and wondered if he’d ever see her again.
Aleera popped over to the apartment a short time later. She lived in the one just opposite his, and she had the habit of turning up, invited or not.
It was something Cyrus put up with on the regular. Aleera didn’t really have anyone else other than him in the family. That was the reason why she ended up on their doorstep after all, lonely and afraid, not completely familiar with her draconic ancestry.
She was one of the lucky few who still retained the ability to transform into a dragon, though her dragon was a little on the small, slender side. She had a smoking-red form that was about as big as two horses put together, far smaller than the average – but still good enough to soar through the air, to be a part of the heritage.
“So, what’s up?” Aleera took a deep sniff, then pulled a face of disgust. “I guess our dad’s been here. Still trying to get you to quit the fighting?”
“Actually, something a little different…” Cyrus explained the whole encounter to her, and as expected, she grinned when finding out she wasn’t invited to Thanksgiving.
“God, I’ve hated it every time I’ve ended up going there. The whole dragon side of the family is a real downer, apart from you, of course.”
“Mm.” He let out a sigh. “Still, it felt like a pretty shitty thing for him to do – just come over and tell me we’re not to attend.”
Aleera shrugged. “Whatever. Well, we’ve got a new fight scheduled for next week. No one big wants to go against you yet, so you’ll need to fight the small fry. But that’s how you build your reputation, yeah?”
He nodded before offering Aleera a drink. They sat together, watched a movie, discussed fun things, and talked shop. He avoided mentioning the woman he’d helped to the subway and avoided mentioning how he often thought about her when everything was quiet and there was little else to disturb him.
It was stupid, really, the way his mind looped back to that moment when he actually felt good for helping someone out – more than just being a disappointment or an unknown figure.
Maybe in time, he’d explain to his sister about the encounter. He just needed to find the right opportunity for it.
“We do have one immediate problem with me being your agent, though,” Aleera said, pacing back and forth, full of excited energy.
“What’s that?” Cyrus asked, though he knew what she would say. His father had already brought it up after all.
“I can’t exactly frontline everything for you. There are people who do know who I am, even if I haven’t been that prominent in supernatural affairs. And I can’t walk around with a mask all the time either. If we’re going to do this, we will need at least one other – a person willing to be our front.”
“I agree. We will need to be discreet.” Cyrus considered this for a moment. “We can’t exactly trust people on that. My friends don’t know about the fighting pits. Most people would love to use the rift between me and my father to stoke an even bigger division.” It was risky to go blind and pick an agent, especially knowing the kind of strings that could be pulled in this world. Anyone official as well. He could just see his father digging in claws to make sure that things remained under his power.
No, if there was to be a front, it had to be someone familiar with the setting, but completely dissociated with it, which severely limited their options.
He then thought of the human who’d bet on him, how she was there for the first time alone, how he’d revealed his name to her.