Atticus
16
SEVERAL MEN ARE BUSTLINGthrough Chastain Castle as if they own the place. Streamers have been hung all around the drawing room, and a big banner readingHappy Birthday, Atlas!is hanging above the front doors.
A table has been constructed in the back corner of said drawing room, covered with various snacks and bottles of liquor. A punch bowl has been set up, filled with some pink concoction that Julian callsjungle juice.
And as I watch the men work, lining up extra chairs and assembling a photo board of all of Atlas’s best angles, I sneer and mutter curses under my breath.
On one hand, I’m sad that my baby brother is growing so quickly. On the other hand, I’m irritated that these men are browsing my home, preparing it for guests I want nothing to do with.
The impending arrival of Cameron is a consistent weight on my chest, one I cannot shake.
“Excuse me,” one of the men says, brushing past me on his way out the door to grab more decorations.
“Watch it,” I hiss, glaring at his retreating back.
“What’s the matter, son?” Father asks from where he’s supervising next to Julian, the two of them standing side-by-side with their arms crossed like two different sides of the same coin.
Two men utterly obsessed with Atlas and prepared to doanythingto make this party a success.
“Nothing,” I mumble. There is no way in hell I’m about to admit to my father that I’m on the verge of a mental freakout.
Julian gives me a curious look but says nothing. Instead, he turns to my father and laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be in town by now with Missus Abigail and Lady Theodora?”
“Yes, yes,” Father answers dismissively. “But I have to ensure success here first.”
“I think I have it handled, sir,” Julian insists.
Father sighs. “Alright. If you’re certain.”
With that, Father pats Julian on the back, ruffles my hair, and leaves the room.
Julian smiles at me, like he’s done me a great favor.
“Not looking forward to tonight?” he presses.
“Not in the slightest.”
I think Julian might know more than he lets on, but I’m trying not to let it bother me. I know the man has good intentions; I just can’t shake my irritation with him.
“Don’t worry. It will be great, and maybe this is a good time to mend old—”
“Stop,” I snap. “I know what you’re going to say, and you need to mind your business.”
Julian gives me a hard look, his smile falling away faster than I’ve ever seen it. But he doesn’t speak; instead, he levels me withthat glare and turns on his heel, fussing with the placement of the food on the snack table.
I know I’m probably being a jerk to someone who doesn’t deserve it, but I’m too high-strung right now. What I need is a distraction.
“I’m going to check on Atlas,” I mumble, leaving the drawing room to climb my way to the top of the west tower.
Unlike so many months ago, the hallway is not sweltering, and there is no lock on the door that leads into Atlas’s quarters.
Sometimes I wonder if he still resents me for locking him away, but it was the only way I could ensure his safety. I was freaking out; we were on the verge of losing him.
As I push the door open, I spot Atlas in front of his standing mirror immediately. He’s dressed in slacks colored a soft blue and a white long-sleeve blouse that has a plunging neckline and is made completely of floral lace.
His black leather Toe Derbies are shining in the setting sun as it drifts in through the skylight, and his soft brown curls appear silky even after the product he uses to style them.
