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28
Asmodeus
How could I havebeen so foolish…I should’ve known. I should’ve questioned more.
As the shadows and light fade, I storm through the third floor of the castle, making way for the abandoned office on this level. It’s the perfect place for someone who’s just realized he’s been played for a fool. The office is forgotten, much like my common sense, and the maids stopped worrying about cleaning it long ago.
It’s not the office itself that I’m after, rather the whiskey I hid in it two centuries ago. I’d stashed it there the day the war was over, saving it for a future time when I’d need it most. Andfuck, is today the day to break it open.
Statues of armored figurines line the walls, watching me with silent, judgmental stares. And between them are various art pieces hanging on display. Some are of places in the Seven Realms, others of famous people of our history. Though, they mostly become a blur of colors and shapes, none of which catch my attention as I stalk through the empty hall.
The echo of my footsteps carries through the air, announcing my arrival long before I ever make it to the office door. Hand on the doorknob, I glance both ways before entering, sleeking inside and quickly shutting it behind me.
As the silence ensues, I feel a current of magic slip over every inch of my exposed skin, and with a sigh, I turn, already knowing what—or rather, who—I’ll find. Even without his power on display, the feeling of being watched was enough to tell me I'm not alone.
Sprawled with careless grace atop the desk, my brother stares at me with wide eyes, his expression a picture of feigned innocence. And behind him, is his best friend, lounging in a leather chair like he’s the king of the castle, legs thrown over the arms. Finn’s usual up to no good grin is in place, just staring at me upside down as he leans over the arm of the chair.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Finn says, his voice dripping with a mirth that grates on my last nerve.
“I could say the same,” I snap back, rolling my eyes. Without another word, I stalk to the cabinets, my search for the whiskey growing frantic as I bang cabinet door after cabinet door.
“What are you hunting for?” my brother asks, a chuckle in his voice that suggests he finds my agitation more entertaining than concerning.
“My fucks to give, apparently. But whiskey will do,” I mutter, rummaging through the shelves. The bottle is here. I can feel it—like a beacon calling to a sailor lost at sea. “Anything that raises my blood-alcohol content will do, actually.”
“I mean, we could go downstairs, drink over some sandwiches, likereal men.” Finn waggles his eyebrows, then sits up, shaking his head like he's dispelling the blood that's rushed there.
“Hmmm. Interesting. I didn’t realize you're in the business of pretending to be something you're not.” The words are outbefore I can stop them, each one laced with a sarcasm sharp enough to cut like a knife.
Slamming the cupboards, a snarl tears through my chest, rattling in my throat as talons push through my fingers. “Where the hell is the damn bottle?”
My brother stands, his boots clicking on the marble as he comes up behind me. “You have magic, asshole. Summon some.” He flicks his wrist and a whiskey bottle appears in his hand, three cups with ice in his other.
Setting the glasses down on the shelves, he pours the whiskey with precision. The liquid swirls like gold under the room's dim light. Then, leaning against the wall with the casual arrogance of a king, he hands me a glass and holds another out to Finn.
“Your face is giving…” Finn trails off, kicking his feet off the chair arm so he can retrieve his drink. “I’m not sure.” He cocks his head, tucking his free arm under the other as he points his glass at me. “What do you think it’s giving, Kai? I’m leaning toward ‘unexpected item in anus’vibes.”
My brother snorts mid-sip, licking his lips to catch the drops of whiskey he spilled. “That’s exactly what it’s giving.” He knocks a fist against his chest, clearing his throat like he swallowed wrong.
Good, prick. Choke.
“Come on. Out with it,” Finn says, waving at me like a child.
The whiskey burns a welcome fire down my throat, a fleeting distraction from my asshole brothers who likely won’t let me leave this room without some sort of an explanation.
I scoff. “I'm not in the mood for an unsolicited therapy session. One of you putting your nose in my business is enough. The two of you together makes me want to go outside, dig a hole, crawl in it, and pay someone to bury me.”
Finn snickers as if I didn’t just insult him. “You’re taking care of my son, the least I can do is make sure you’re okay.”
The least you could do is mind your damn business.
“I could just read your mind,” Kai says, examining his whiskey. “At least your thoughts don’t come with the attitude.”
Yeah, you don't want to do that.
I shoot him a sarcastic, narrow-eyed smile. “You likely already know what's wrong, seeing as Alice is a part of this mess.”
He arches a thick brow, and for being the youngest out of the three of us, he’s certainly nailed theDaddy isn’t happyface.
