“Then what do we do?” Nik asked.
Lafontaine continued the operation. “What are the signs of heart failure, Nikolas?”
What other answer could he want?
“Weakness, boy.” Across the body, he met Nik’s gaze. “Is Auclair a weakness?”
It wasn’t unusual for Nik to struggle to see any likeness of himselfmirrored in his father. However, it was the first time he felt disgust in meeting his ruthless gaze.
“No.” He straightened his shoulders. “She’s not.”
“Good. Now go.”
Nik stood his ground. Rooted by some unknown pull.
“When do you plan to tell the city about the rebels and Plouffe’s murder?” he asked.
“When do you think I should?” Lafontaine returned.
Nik’s throat tightened. He had Elara’s fate in his hands. He could have it revealed sooner rather than later, force her to turn to him for help when she felt trapped.
Or he could spare her until she had enough power to try and fight for herself.
“The final round,” he replied. “After the new Souverain is crowned. El-Elouise will be a willing puppet, ready to vote however you see fit. And if a Reste girl votes in your favor, it will send a message—”
“That they finally have a voice,” Lafontaine mused. “Tempering the rebellion. Wise decision, boy. Dismissed.”
Nik left him to the operation.
As soon as he was outside in the back gardens, he retched into the bushes, then crumpled against the wall. He ripped the top collar of his suit open and begged for a break in the summer heat.
He’d lied to his father.
Not just concealed the truth.
But lied.
Because Elara was a weakness.
It wasn’t just her skill and determination that awed him. It was her kindness and her lack of judgment. Elara didn’t hold grudges, nor did she patronize him for his mistakes. If that was the kind of person hisfather wanted to subdue, Nik couldn’t follow him without question anymore.
He wanted a safe, fair city, but his father was wrong in going about it this way. His lesson had backfired.
Because it wasElara’sface Nik imagined beneath the sheet.
It washerheart he imagined stopping.
And he would never let that happen to her.
18ELARA
Four days later, Blai and Elara were deposited into a back room of Étoiles by Nicolette, who had no heart to tease Elara this time. Whatever work Fernand required of her must’ve been hell because she sported numerous bruises along her arms and face, including a massive black eye.
“I don’t trust this,” Blai muttered, pacing the edges of the small room.
“It’s the only option we have,” she replied.
“Let me rephrase that, then. I don’t trusthim.”
