Page 20 of Eternal Obsession

I hated birthdays. I loathed getting gifts and opening them up only to have the giver stare wide-eyed, hoping I liked it, and having to do my best to convey that I did. “I haven’t celebrated a birthday in the last two years, and now⁠—”

“Father has lost it,” Alex said. “Look at this subject matter—witchcraft—and, oh my goodness, what is this Nightwalker Lore penned by Fabian Snowstrom? What kind of name is Snowstrom? On the other hand, is it you who is delusional? What is a nightwalker anyway? Can I come to the ceremony? I am surprised there isn’t something among all these about Frenchmen. You know how Father is about foreigners.”

We laughed hysterically.

“This is folklore,” I reasoned. “Nothing real.”

It made no sense.

Arthur interrupted us. The old well-dressed man appeared agitated when he glimpsed the titles on the table. Obviously they were for my eyes only. Arthur glared at me with disapproval.

I glared back until I had forced his disgruntled gaze toward Alex.

“Your father can see you now, sir. He canceled an appointment for you. Go immediately to his office and present yourself,” he said.

Alex looked at me for support, and I gave him an encouraging wink. He leapt to his feet and obediently headed for his appointment, closely followed by Arthur.

I opened up the book titled Nightwalker Lore and a card fell out from between its pages. I read the faded note aloud. “Jadeon, consider the coincidences that you do not see.” Fabian Snowstrom had signed it. I flicked through the book and read a few lines.

So boring.

I threw down the book. Well, Father, if you’re trying to confuse me, you’ve succeeded. I headed toward the kitchen, hoping to find a mid-morning snack.

After I had eaten, I made my way to my father’s office to make sure Alex had been well-received, and on hearing silence, I waited outside in case needed. I could join him if things became heated.

I imagined Alex waiting patiently before Lord Artimas, who probably sat at his desk reading intently. For a long while he seemed not to notice Alex—his usual way. After several minutes Father would peer up, his expression stern.

“Pray tell me, Alexander, why was there a new mare in my stables this morning that neither I nor my veterinary surgeons have permitted to board?”

“Father, that is why I requested to speak with⁠—”

“What if the animal has a disease and infects my stock?”

“The horse was a gift from Lord⁠—”

“And what did you do to deserve such an animal?”

Alex tried again. “Lord Velde saved my life, Father.”

“I am quite aware of that. So why is it not you giving him a horse? Why does he bestow such a gift upon you?”

“I do not . . . I cannot say. We have just⁠—”

“In what manner have you become acquainted?”

Alex blushed.

“Well? Is it business? What kind of arrangements have you made with him?” Lord Artimas placed his hand against his chest. He was silent for a moment, as if trying to regain some composure.

“I apologize if I have offended you, sir,” Alex said.

“Alexander, you must understand, I have enemies that would destroy this family. We must be more guarded. You must be more guarded.”

“Surely those were the old ways?”

Lord Artimas glared at Alex.

“Father, Lord Velde is of noble birth. A gentleman of Spanish Royal decent. And he is a good man and of the highest order.”