Page 7 of Stormbreaker

So, I flash a toothy smile that has his eyes narrowing.

He keeps his gaze pinned on me as he reaches for his fork and spears a piece of sausage off his plate.

“Poet,” he says, and I know that tone. The one where he’s about to tell me he’s disappointed in me. Or remind me what’s expected of me. As if I could ever forget.

He chews the meat, holding my gaze, while I wait until it’s my turn to speak.

“I graduated at the top of my class,” he eventually says, repeating this mantra for at least the thousandth time. “I was the student leader of House Fiama. They still keep my academic awards in the school’s front hall.”

I inhale a slow, fortifying breath.

“Yes,” I answer, though that’s not really an answer at all.

“I expect you to do the Graves name proud,” he continues. “You’ll only have three years. Three years, and then you’ll marry Knox and join the other Society wives. Without a son, it’ll be up to you to carry on our family lineage.”

My teeth grind as he stares at me. He had a son. Someone else to carry on the proud Graves line. My brother, Raine, was twenty-two when a roving band of Solitudes killed him three years ago while he was manning a Storm Tower.

Solitudes live in the uninhabitable wilderness and marshlands known as the Wastes. They’re forbidden from entering the city, though they often attempt to breach our borders to steal supplies and sow disharmony. Along with protecting us from Spark, Storm Breakers and the rest of the Storm Guard are also responsible for stopping Solitudes from entering New Manhattan.

My brother was a Breaker, though technically, Raine was my cousin. His mom was my dad’s sister, and she fell in love with a Solitude who then killed her, too, leaving my parents to raise her son. But he was my brother in every way that mattered.

I’d like to think my father’s reluctance to let me join the Storm Guard is because he’s worried I’ll meet the same fate as Raine. That might be partly the case, but I know it has far more to do with controlling me.

Raine’s departure left a gaping hole in our family that has never healed. I glance at my mother, whose expression remains neutral. Slowly, she turns to me, lays a gentle hand on my wrist, and squeezes.

“Your father only wants what’s best for you,” she says, and my heart crumples. I wasn’t expecting her to stand up for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less disappointing that she never does.

“Dad, if only I could—” I start, but he raises a hand for silence, already anticipating my question.

“Poet,” he says, a warning in his voice, causing me to go still. I set a piece of toast back on my plate and shove both hands under my thighs, trying to hide the way they shake. But he misses nothing, and his gaze narrows as a corner of his mouth tugs down in a sneer.

I take a deep breath, then force myself to eat again, trying to pretend that he doesn’t scare me. But each bite is like tasting wet cardboard. There’s nothing my father hates more than weakness, and I’m always weak around him.

Neither one of us speaks.

For several minutes, the only sounds in the room are my father’s fork scraping against his plate and my mother’s soft sips of coffee. I chew faster, reminding myself that maybe if I work my ass off and become a good House Fiama pledge, I might even prove to him that I’m meant for life as a Breaker.

Only Society members are eligible to join the Storm Guard, so technically, he can’t stop me from enrolling in cadet training. I’ll just have to find a way to keep it from him until it’s too late to do anything about it.

It’s not a great plan, but it’s all I have for now.

Satisfied, he gives me a nod and then swipes the screen on his tablet again.

I nibble at a piece of fruit as my gaze wanders out the window. From this high up, I can see for miles. The waterways surrounding our island stretch over flat land, where a maze of boardwalks elevates hundreds of businesses and houses belonging to the city’s service workers, known as cogs, who run many of the city’s shops or perform jobs like mechanics, maids, cooks, and lower-ranking Patrol members.

I check my watch and excuse myself from the table.

“Trinity will be here to pick me up soon,” I announce. My mom looks at me, her big, dark eyes shining with the threat of tears. My parents claimed they were too busy to see me to the academy today, and I’m trying not to let that hurt.

“I’ll miss you so much,” she says, taking my hand. “Promise me you’ll call? And visit us sometimes?”

“Yeah, Mom, of course.” I lean down to kiss her on the cheek, catching her familiar scent of honey and mint.

I push my chair in and nod at my father.

“Sir,” I say as he offers me another once-over.

“Before you go, remember that I’m counting on you,” he says. “And I expect your reputation to remain intact before your wedding. I don’t want any rumors circulating about you.”