If he were more like his father, he’d put them all in their place. But he wasn’t his father. He was a coward.
“You were brilliant!”
“Brilliantly reckless,” Blai muttered from somewhere in the kitchen.
Nik crept closer to listen.
“I don’t even know what happened,” Elara said.
“You ruined our plan, that’s what happened!” A cork popped as Blai grumbled. “What were you thinking?”
Two items clunked to the ground followed by a grateful moan from Elara. “What was I supposed to do? Fight someone else for other ingredients?”
“Yes,” Blai muttered. “That oaf Nik found could’ve tried harder.”
“That oaf just helped me win. Be nice.”
Nik peeked around the doorway to find Chantal doling out slices of cake. Elara, who’d kicked off her shoes, curled and uncurled her toes in a chair by the window.
“What you did was beautiful, magnificent, and wonderful!” Chantal kissed the crown of her head. Another moment of affection Elara let in so easily.
She took a large bite. “I don’t understand. What is scorpion root anyway?”
Nik’s jaw hit the floor.
The girl had no idea.
A new feeling—that was definitely not envy—reared its head.
“Scorpion root is a vile abomination.” Chantal started the kettle. “Directors made us chew it all the time back at the opera. It increases magie, but they could only make the side effect tolerable if they dried it out.” She shuddered. “It was tough as leather and made your gums and cheeks raw. And for what? An extra turn of a pirouette?”
Elara grimaced. “That’s awful.”
“What’s awful is that you stood out.” Blai pinched her ear. “Somehow, you prepared it in a way that made the most powerful person in Arts Spectacle even more powerful.”
“Shouldn’t that make me look better?”
Nik snorted, then withdrew.
Too late. Chantal had caught him lingering in the doorway. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but she didn’t give his position away.
He was done listening anyway.
Upstairs, he slammed his office door and paced. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop the shaking of his hands, the pounding of his heart, and the wretched twisting of…somethingin his veins. It had started the moment he’d seen her embrace Gaetan.
No. Before.
When he saw the look of humiliation on her face when she realized Fiona was just as wretched as the rest of them. She’d looked so helpless, and that didn’t suit her at all.
It had taken Nik years to learn how cruel people could be in the cushier quarters. At least disagreements in the Restes could be settled with a quick fist to the nose and a bottle of liquor over cards. Here? People found your softest places, and they ripped them to shreds.
That stubbornness and pride comes from a place of wanting to do great things, to uphold a legacy that died a long time ago.
Gaetan wasn’t lying about that at least. Elara was trying to leave her past behind, which was exactly why Nik had invited him to be hermentor. He’d wanted to torture her with a face she was supposed to be running from, to see her run further away and into Nik’s… plans.
Gaetan was someone she should scorn, yet she’d called out for him during the battle and sought comfort in his arms after. And she smiled so damn freely for him.
Nik slammed his fist on the desk.
