Nice? I don’t know if that’s a word I’d use to describe Aurora Drakeward. But the words I would use are not ones that this kid needs to hear.
Mate.
“Rory, nice?” I laugh. “Don’t you believe it.” I lower my voice as if sharing a deadly secret. “Don’t you know that that girl is an unholy terror? Why do you think everyone moves out of her way in the yard? They’re terrified she’ll start doing scary ballet and take them all down. Haven’t you ever heard her nickname?”
Sky’s brow furrows. “Layla calls her ‘Barbie.’”
I let out a laugh. “Oh, if only she were just a Barbie, Sky, but no. No.” I give her a serious look. “Listen carefully and I’ll let you in on a secret.”
My heart warms as Sky moves closer looking deadly serious.
“The Ballerina Butcher,” I whisper. “That’s her name, but be careful not to say it three times in a row, or she’ll appear in a tutu and pirouette you to death.”
This makes her giggle, which feels like a fucking win and I give myself a pat on the back.
“What’s so funny?” Lay demands, coming back in, now empty-handed.
I’m so beat, but I force my energy to keep flowing. “Just explaining to Sky that Rory is the baddest bitch in this place.”
“Barbie? Are you fucking kidding?” Her eyes narrow as she looks at the lingering grin on Sky’s face. “Last week, old Barbs stood on a cockroach, then apologized to it. That bitch is as bad as a bunny.”
“That’s just her cunning mask,” I say, meeting eyes with Layla. “Underneath the nice girl act, she’s a regular Cruella de Vil.”
Sky’s smile fades a little. “Who’s Cruella de Vil?”
“Fucking Dot is,” Layla mumbles under her breath.
Lay, like me, is also not a fan of Dot’s dog-breeding past. Ashgrave is a small city and word gets around.
“Come on, Sky, let’s split,” she says, “I don’t particularly want to be here when Frank-the-fuck gets back.”
“Yeah, you should go.” I don’t want that man around the kid. I made her promise, and I intend to keep it. François de Vaux is the opposite of safety.
Cub.
Cub, pack, protect.
As I watch Lay and Sky leave, a vow, heavy and vital, thrums in my chest.
Both of those girls are pack.
And I’ll destroyanyonewho harms them.
31. FRANCOIS
Having the wolf once again incapacitated is greatly improving my peace.
Aurora doesn’t like it.
She’s not speaking to me currently, so I’m enjoying some much-needed peace.
Mother said that being alone was when she was least lonely.
Not exactly what you wish to hear from a parent as a young child, but I know why she felt that way. Being constantly misunderstood, or choosing not to embrace the crowd, is a busy, noisy kind of solitary.
The French hold that notion deeply in their culture. Do not disturb during the afternoonsieste, and certainly feel no pressure to return a friendly smile from a stranger. They understand that a life is built behind closed shutters,chez soi—the sacred, unassailable fortress of the home where the outside world is firmly locked out.
Privacy is not considered a luxury; it is the boundary of civilized elegance.
