Page 22 of Summer

“Gennelle,” Mother says, her gaze cutting to me. “Have these two been left unattended for any period of time?”

“No,” I say, perhaps too quickly. “Aaoric has joined us for breakfast the last few days and has accompanied us about the manor. I am always present…”

“Really, Mother? Have you no tact?” Aaoric clips, and I nearly choke.

Mother bristles at this, sitting straighter. “It is just peculiar that you are suddenly interested in this woman, when you’ve spent the last few weeks pointedly ignoring her.”

“Yes, well, you’ve made your decision very clear, haven’t you?” Aaoric asks, his tone icy. “That I’ve no say in the matter, that no matter what I do, I must marry someone you bought for me. As if I cannot make my own choices, as if I am still a boy.” His fist tightens on his fork, nearly bending the metal in his ire. I am glad Summer cannot understand Tatinnish, though part of me hopes she hears the truth of this. She’s not wanted here. If I have any say, she’ll be gone long before Aaoric is tied to her indefinitely.

“Aaoric, you watch your tone…” Father begins, standing in his chair.

Aaoric pushes back from his at the same moment, letting it fall behind him loudly. Father is no match for him if it were to come to blows. Age and excess have turned Father stout and slow.

“No, you watch yours,” Aaoric says, pointing at our parents.

Summer stares up at him, her eyes filled with awe. She may not understand what he’s saying, but the intention is clear.

“I will one day be Duke Vestinhoth, and Summer will be Duchess. You’ve made it very clear what my duties are, and now that I am trying to perform them, you question her?” He shakes his head, disgusted. “Do not question her propriety, and do not insinuate that Gennelle is not fulfilling her duties.”

My cheeks flame hot. This isn’t about Summer, it’s about me. Aaoric my defender, even when I don’t want him to be.

“Yes, yes,” Father says, waving at the air as if this is all a big misunderstanding. But the argument sows a seed in my mind, a nagging that I must get to the bottom of. Who is Summer, really? Where did she come from, if she was only at Protegre for three years? How could she so easily convince my brother to marry her? Perhaps there’s something in her file that will turn my parents away from her? I wasn’t gone nearly long enough for them to have done a thorough investigation of her. I know where Father keeps his paperwork, and it will be no small thing to find it and bring it to their attention. They can return her to the school.

I’ve seen the bodies.

I push Madame Furro’s words from my mind. Aaoric yells a final word to Father before storming out. Supper is silent from there forward, though the argument does little to quell Summer’s appetite. I envy her ignorance.

That evening, I find what I am looking for.

Father’s files are alphabetized and organized based on category. It takes me a moment to figure out where Summer’s information is, because I start by looking in the family section. I check through it twice, skimming information about Frihus in Aaoric’s file. I ignore my own and Mothers, as it’s not likely to be there.

I check his desk in the event he hasn’t filed it away yet. I find expense reports from one of our factories, as well as a brochure for a boarding school for girls. I set these aside, my gaze finally landing on the area of the office for property.

Summer’s file is there, much to my disgust.

I spread it over Father’s desk, sorting through the pieces. Her intake paper shows a photo of a much different Summer than the one here. Her face is round, her gaze filled with malice for whomever is capturing her photo. What she’s wearing is scandalous – a fitted top that exposes her shoulders and pulls tight across her breast.

The photo trembles in my hand, and I have the sudden urge to take it from the file and place it in my pocket. I shake my head and turn the page, reading through the sparse intake information.

Summer, female, human, 5’7”, 185 pounds, arrested during the 18th year of His Leadership.

Arrested?! I turn the pages over and over, trying to find more information about her life before Protegre. It’s blank, each page filled with notes of her time at the school.

Does not socialize with the other humans, has not been earned a pillow or a bedroll. Expected to have to start lashings soon. Refuses to bathe – others are complaining.

Abrupt change in behavior after the public execution of Girl #212245, deserter.

Execution? Bile churns in my stomach, but I cannot stop reading.

Spoke unkindly to a governess, responded best to three days in isolation.

Associates with roommates, but otherwise has little interest in making friends. When others attempt to befriend her, she turns away. Consider whipping roommate, Girl #1122543, if no longer responds to punishment.

Appears ready for auction when three years’ service has completed.

I step back from the file, swallowing hard. These aren’t the notes of a female at a school, these are observations of a prisoner. Notes on how to manipulate, how best to punish.

I pace the room, trying to calm my rising panic. This is what Protegre is really about? Madame Furro warned me, but I didn’t understand the depths of it.