“So, you don’t believe the Light should be protected?” Dominic said.
“I don’t think that’s what I said,” I replied.
“More wine?” Mother interrupted loudly.
I looked at her and nodded.
Georgina looked troubled beside me. “Did you meet anyone else there? Kieran Hawthorne was there, correct?”
“Maybe. Darkmoor wasn’t exactly a social club.”
“You never were much for friends,” Mother said with a tight smile, “even as a child.”
“It was terrible what happened to the Donahue boy. I heard he had an awful accident in the quad, broke his neck!” Father said.
“Did you know Oliver Donahue?” Dominic asked.
For a moment Seph’s face filled my thoughts, pale and shaking, blood running down her skin.
Then Ollie’s body, grey and shrivelled, carried away by the guards.
“In passing,” I replied. “Like I said, I don’t do friends.”
Dominic nodded, but I could feel him measuring me from his seat.
“So, son. As per my letter, Dominic here, has asked me to consider joining the Council of Light. I thought it best you meet each other if you will be working with each other in the future.”
“Is that a fact?” I asked.
Dominic smiled at me, predatory. “I have been given the media portfolio for the Council of Light. It is a great honour. Your father tells me you intend to take over Redgrave Publishing.”
“Did he?” I asked, casting a glare his way. “He mentioned it was something to think about.”
“What’s to consider, Devon? You’re a Redgrave. It’s your duty to carry the family name and business forward,” Ian said firmly, like it was already settled.
I leaned back slightly. “And when does this change come into play?”
“You would start training immediately. The board is already waiting to fill you in. You’ll meet them next week.”
“Dev, Sable is having trouble opening one of the locks in your father’s office. It’s a code safe. She needs help,”Kieran said.
“Well, it’s nice to know you have planned my life without my consent again, Father. Excuse me if I don’t jump for joy immediately.”
I stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“Well, if I’m about to be handcuffed to the publishing house, I should at least make sure my wrists are clean.”
“Devon.” Mother sighed, but I was already heading to the bathroom.
I stalked down the hall, passing my old room. My father’s office door sat slightly ajar.
I grabbed a piece of paper from a side table, scribbled a number down, and slid it through the gap before stepping into the ornate bathroom.
I turned on the taps and splashed water over my face.
When I stepped out, I passed my room again and saw the door was open. Georgina stood inside, running her fingers over my old dresser.
