Page 35 of Stormbreaker

“Poet,” the dean says to me with a dip of her chin, and then she walks out.

“You know each other?” I ask, stalling for a moment.

“We’ve been friends for many years,” my father says evasively, and I again catch my mother’s pinched expression. Is Dean Withers one of my father’s . . . dalliances? Surely he wouldn’t be so obvious right in front of his wife?

The door closes behind the dean, leaving me alone with my parents. The weight in my stomach intensifies. It’s a feeling I’m all too familiar with. Dread.

When I turn back to my father, all pretense of affability is gone. In its place is the man I know and fear.

“Poet,” he says in that voice. The one I know so well. “Care to explain what happened last night?”

He says it calmly, almost frighteningly so, but I don’t miss the pulsing vein in his temple. My entire body trembles, so I clasp my hands in front of me and hope he doesn’t notice.

I open my mouth, then close it. Everyone wants an answer from me, but I don’t have one. I just acted on instinct. It felt like the right thing to do.

“I can’t,” I say, and his jaw hardens.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice shifts. Becomes cold and deadly. Scary. “Do you know how foolish I look right now? The sharks are circling, waiting for me to make one wrong move, and then my daughter, my only child, walks into Amery and makes a mockery of me!”

His voice pitches up until he’s shouting loud enough that I’m sure every word is carrying beyond these walls. He’s a towering pillar of fury, his face flushed, his eyes wild. His fist curls at his side, and I wonder if he plans to use it.

I take a step back. It’s instinctive, but we all notice it.

I don’t know what to say to calm him down. An apology won’t fix anything. What I did was unforgivable; I know that. He’s right, and I’ve humiliated him. I enjoyed a brief moment of satisfaction by defying him, but I took it too far.

Unlike Knox, this isn’t just about him. I am his daughter and therefore an extension of his leadership. I didn’t just betray my father last night; I betrayed everyone in Fiama.

“Answer me!” he shouts. “Why did you do this?”

Tears burn the backs of my eyes as I shake my head. I will not let them fall.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp. “I’ll fix it. I still have more tests. I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“Trey is beside himself,” my father says. “He’s threatening to end our alliance and bond Knox to the Jenkins girl.” He continues on, shouting about the Ardens and our marriage. About everything he stands to lose if Knox marries someone else. I feel myself shrinking under the weight of his ire. My father might be the scion of House Fiama, but only if he has the support of Society’s highest ranks. Many people might believe he’s currently the best thing for the city’s safety. But that doesn’t mean others don’t want his power. That they don’t think they could do the job even better.

Jenkins. As in Winter, my roommate and nemesis. Someone who would give anything to take my place. She has no idea how much I wish she could.

I shake my head and focus on my father. I nod along, trying to absorb every word of his anger. My attention slips to my mother, her back straight, her gaze darting between my father and me. Our eyes meet for the briefest second, anguish and despair flashing over her expression.

I know she’s sorry about everything, but she’s also never tried to stop it.

And it’s silly to hope. What could she possibly do?

“Poet, are you listening to me?” my father shouts, and I nod immediately. I am listening. I feel every word imprinted onto my skin.

“I’ll fix it,” I vow again. “I swear to you I’ll fix it. Everything will be fine.”

My father huffs out a long breath. His eyes are bright with rage, and that lock of dark hair has fallen over his eyes. He shoves it back and peers at me like he’s trying to parse out the delicate pieces of me he wants to break.

“You had better fix this,” he says in a low voice. “So help me—”

I raise a hand. “I will pledge to Fiama. You have my word.”

Finally, his shoulders drop. “I’m counting on you,” he says, and I nod, again suppressing the urge to cry.

“I know you are,” I answer. “I know. I won’t let you down.”

“Without your brother—”