Page 36 of Stormbreaker

“Please don’t,” I whisper as the first tear slips down my cheek. I can’t bear to hear anything about Raine right now. He pledged to Fiama without question. He did everything that was expected of him, and then he was taken from us. It isn’t fair.

My father grinds his jaw, his eyes flashing before he huffs out a long breath. “Fine. The only reason I expect to be called to Amery again is to oversee your pledge to Fiama in two months.”

“Of course,” I say. He nods and turns to my mother, who stands up from her chair and smooths down the front of her dress. Why did she even come if she wasn’t planning to say a word?

“I miss you,” I say to her, and she rushes over to hug me. I wrap my arms around her and bury my face into the crook of her shoulder. I inhale deeply, savoring the smell of her perfume as she rubs the back of my head.

“Is everyone being kind? Are you okay?” she asks. That feels like a loaded question, and I can’t bring myself to burden her with the truth.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I lie, feeling the tension loosen in her body. We hug for another few seconds before my father clears his throat.

“Sariah, we should go. We’re due for lunch with the general in twenty minutes.”

My mother pulls away and wipes the corner of her eye. She takes my hand and searches my face before giving me a watery smile. “Take care of yourself,” she says before she turns and scurries out the door.

When she’s gone, I look up at my father, who offers me a scrutinizing look.

“Don’t fuck this up. You won’t like what happens then,” he says before turning and leaving, too.

After the door slams, I count to fifty before I’m strong enough to move. My hands shake, and my breath hiccups in shallow gasps. The various aches and pains in my body throb with the echoes of my conversation and the stress slowly crushing me under its weight.

My only consolation is that the storms are quiet today.

When I’m sure my parents must be gone, I look around the room, wonder­ing why I’ve been left alone in the dean’s office. But small red lights buried into the ceiling remind me I’m being watched.

As I enter the reception area, several pairs of eyes find me. The woman who helped me earlier offers me a sympathetic look. Obviously, they all heard every word. They aren’t Society, so I assume all they see when they look at me is a spoiled rich girl, and they aren’t wrong. I am exactly that.

When I backed down from killing someone in the name of the city’s protection, I further proved my uselessness.

Why am I the only one who couldn’t do it? Am I just . . . weak?

Nevertheless, the receptionist’s expression is kind, and that nearly breaks me.

With my fists clenched, I pass through the desks, and again my gaze snags on the tablet for Storm Guard registration. I stop in front of it with my fingers twitching.

I let my family down today. My entire House. My father is rightfully angry with me.

But a quiet, selfish voice whispers in my head that my family hasn’t ever done much for me. I’ve been beaten and cowed into submission. Forced to marry a man I hate.

But I’ve also had a roof over my head and a full belly my entire life. I think of Rook. I could have been a Solitude, cobbling scraps together simply to exist.

The smart thing would be to walk out of here, pledge to Fiama, graduate on the path my father set for me, then marry Knox.

I can make myself do at least one of those things, but there’s one I will never be able to live with.

My father is already furious, so what’s another transgression?

I pick up the stylus from the holder, gripping it tightly enough to make my knuckles blanch. I feel the receptionist’s eyes on me as I tap the screen. I stare at the blank lines and the names already listed, most of which I don’t recognize.

Except one.

Rook Athira

His strangely artistic script is scrawled three lines up, and I don’t know why that confirms my decision.

Before I can think twice, I scribble my name on the next blank line.

Really, what could my father do that he hasn’t already threatened?