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She takes a step towards me, giving me a tight smile as she reaches up and rests her icy hand on my cheek. “It’s been far too long, Lawson.”

I narrow my eyes on her, trying to work out what she’s doing. She rarely shows me any kind of affection. I was here a couple of weeks ago for a meeting with Father, but she never bothered coming to see me. “Hardly, I visit plenty,” I say through gritted teeth, leaning away from her touch.

She takes the hint and drops her hand with a sigh. “You only seem to come whenever you have to see your father. It’s never a social visit, or to spend time with me,” she replies, sounding almost whiny.

“You’ve never asked to see me,” I remind her. It’s not like I come home voluntarily. Each time it’s because Father has summoned me here.

“I know you’re off enjoying your life at Shadowmere, but you will graduate soon, and the Order will assign you your role… I worry that after that, I won’t ever see you.” Her face twists into a frown, although it’s hard to be sure since her forehead barely moves.

With any fucking luck, I think, reminding myself that in the none-too-distant future, I’ll have my own life, and I won’t have to answer to Father.

“I’ll make sure to come and see you more,” I lie, knowing I have no intention of doing any such thing.

Mother gives me a small, tight smile that suggests she knows I’m lying to her, but she doesn’t call me out on it. Instead, she lets out a long sigh. “That’s all I can ask. Anyway, you better not keep your father waiting; he’s not been in a great mood lately.”

Ha, when is he ever in a good mood?

When Mother takes a step back, there’s a sadness in her eyes that I’m not used to seeing, and I’m not entirely sure why she feels that way, but I don’t have time to find out. Instead, I say my goodbyes, turn and walk away, heading toward my father’s office.

As soon as I reach the door, I knock twice and pause, waiting for his booming voice to tell me I can go in. With his permission, I push open the door and find my father sitting behind his large mahogany desk, his fingers tapping on the top as if he’s been waiting impatiently for my arrival.

I quickly slide into one of the seats on the opposite side of his desk, lounging in a way that makes him glare at me. He loves to lecture me on the importance of making an impression, and me sitting like I’ve got a stick up my arse apparently gives off a good image, while relaxing into the chair does not.

His eyes narrow on me, and it’s very fucking clear this meeting is not going to be a good one. Anger and annoyance are practically dripping off him, permeating the air around us to the point it’s stifling.

“You asked to see me, Father?” I decide to start the conversation, since I have no intention of just sitting here while he scowls at me, trying to intimidate me.

“I want to talk to you about the Gifting Ceremony. I’m very disappointed in you, Lawson. What the hell were you thinking making that Westmore girl your Prize?” he spits, glaring at me with pure venom in his eyes.

I shrug my shoulders. “I think she makes a great Prize.”

His eyes blaze with anger as he balls his hands into fists on the desk, looking more irritated with me. “We had a plan. You were supposed to convince Xander to let you select a different Prize. Lena was expecting you to choose her. She’s the daughter of one of my business partners, and would have been a perfectly good choice for a Prize. Instead, you’ve let down a very powerful family, and put our working relationship in jeopardy.”

I roll my eyes at my father’s dramatics. We both know Lena’s father will not cut ties with us, given we’re one of the most powerful families in the Order. If they’re offering their daughter as a Prize, they’re mid-level at best. It wouldn’t be in their best interests to piss us off, so I know this is coming from my father, not the family I supposedly let down.

“I don’t care. I follow every command that is given to me by the Order, without hesitation or question, but choosing who I want as my Prize is the one thing I get to decide for myself, and I don’t regret it,” I tell him, hoping he can hear just how fucking serious I am.

He continues to glare daggers at me as he says, “Did you even bother thinking about how being attached to the Westmore name is bad for our reputation?”

I don’t think my father wants to hear the honest answer—that I don’t give a shit about how my connection to Harper might affect our family name. But he’s not wrong; some people may look at the connection and read into it incorrectly.

“I think our name is strong enough to withstand rumours and gossip,” I tell him.

He lets out a huff as he bangs his hand on the desk. “That is irrelevant. You need to turn this shitshow into something that benefits us.”

I roll my eyes at his dramatics. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

“You need to make it clear to people that you chose Harper as a punishment. Her father betrayed the Obsidian Order, and since he’s yet to face justice, you are giving his daughter the punishment their family deserves. It’s clear the girl is Bob’s weakness, and you need to show people you plan to take advantage of that.”

Every part of that sentence feels wrong to me, but the sheer determination in Father’s eyes suggests he’s not going to let this go. “What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying, you need to punish your Prize publicly. Make it clear that this family is not weak, and that we put the needs of the Order before our own. You need to clarify that you gave up the Prize you really wanted to get justice for the Order members wronged by the Westmore family.”

I shake my head at his ability to spout such bullshit in the name of making this family look better. But I use this as an opening to ask a question that’s been on my mind since I first spoke to Harper about her dad, since I promised to help look into his arrest.

“Why hasn’t Bob Westmore faced justice yet? Normally, traitors are killed straight away, long before they even have a chance to be arrested. Bob Westmore is not only alive, he’s in a position to talk in prison. Something doesn’t add up.”

It’s impossible to miss the exact moment my father’s walls come up, and all emotion bleeds from his face, leaving behind a cold, empty expression. His voice is monotone, lacking any kind of fire that he had just a moment before. “I have no idea how Bob Westmore is still alive. It’s something the Obsidian Council is looking into.”