Her smiles didn’t matter.
Elara had lied to him. But if he thought about it, he understood why. If she could be believed, she was escaping her past and trying to build some new future.
Had their roles been reversed, Nik wouldn’t have told anyone his name either.
The real problem was Lafontaine. He’d hated the display. Nik hadn’t spoken with him yet, but he didn’t need to. After the ceremony, he’d refused to meet Nik’s gaze. They’d only awarded her first place because theycouldn’tgive it to anyone else without causing a riot. She was powerful.
More powerful than any Reste should be.
Lafontaine would call upon him soon, and it would be hell.
“Nik?”
Chantal stood in his doorway.
“I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled.
“Because whatever scheme you had with Gaetan didn’t work out?”
His head snapped up. “You’re too perceptive for your own good.”
“And you’re too obvious. You were positively giddy when she saw him.” She frowned. “She knows him. Which means you figured out who she is.”
He collapsed into his chair with a huffed laugh. “How did you figure all that out?”
“I’ve known you too long. You’re only excited when you have ascheme.” She stepped inside, shutting the door gently behind her before sitting in the chair by his desk. “Which is why I think you need to tell her.”
“Tell her what?”
“Everything. Elouise, or whatever her name is, is smart, and she’ll figure it all out. You. Lafontaine. The plans for Grand Souverain.”
“No. She’s difficult enough to handle already. Can you imagine if she knew what my father really had in mind for her?”
Chantal’s face hardened. “Which is why Lafontaine keeps secrets from you. We both know it.”
“I will earn those secrets,” he said darkly.
“When will Elouise earn yours?”
“When I think she’s ready!”
Chantal sat back for a moment, appraising him. “You’re not the only one whose future rides on this plan, Nik. Don’t screw it up for all of us.”
Then she left, shutting the door with a quietshick.
The crawling beneath his skin began again—a wild animal, scratching to get out. It wouldn’t stop until he let it free.
His eyes landed on his top desk drawer.
One night, he told himself, one night wouldn’t hurt.
He sat down and took out a book he’d sworn he’d never touch again.
It was faded, the binding beginning to break, and the edges of the paper were soft with use. He flipped it open and took in his sketches, the earliest of which were copies of designs of buildings he’d admired when he first moved in. The later drawings were originals, with various subjects that had caught his attention: flowers, animals, portraits.
Distractions cause mistakes, Lafontaine had lectured him more than once. Nik still felt phantom cramps from the first time Lafontaine made him copy the medical primer textbook—a favored punishment.Mistakes cannot be permitted for people like us. We must prove we’re more.
Thanks to those lessons, Nik viewed sketching as a medical treatment. It was no different than lancing a wound to release the pressure and stave off infection.
