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“It’s not quite time for supper, but I scraped something together for you two,” she says apologetically.
The plates are piled high with a hodgepodge of leftovers—half a sandwich, some stew, wild rice and vegetables. It looks like the kind of weird buffet you would get at a kid’s birthday party. My eyes must have lingered on the odd selection for too long, because Ingrid feels the need to say more.
“We’re back here on such short notice, we’re still making preparations,” she says to Alize. “We’ve barely had time to clean and stock the place as it is.” She gestures broadly in the air. “It should all be sorted within the week. I promise the menu will be more exciting in the coming days.” Ingrid gives me a smile, sliding one of the bottles over to me. “And the sparkling water should be in tomorrow.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Alize says, picking up her half of the sandwich. “This is perfect, thank you Ingrid. I really appreciate it.”
Ingrid beams, and when Alize looks away, she gives me a small nod and stern look. I already know what she’s thinking—she likes Alize and doesn’t want me to fuck this up. I roll my eyes, getting up from the table to speak with her out of earshot.
I fold my arms, leaning against the wall and keeping Alize in my line of sight.
“Do you know why the old sod has us here?” I ask in a hushed whisper.
Between the house staff and Empire soldiers, my father has dozens of loyal people who fear him too much to ever say a bad thing about him. Ingrid isn’t one of them. When my mum became a Duke, she brought some of her own staff with her. Ingrid was her personal attendant until her death and has been majordomo ever since.
Ingrid narrows her eyes. “He didn’t give us a reason,” she says.
“I’m not staying here,” I say simply, and I mean every word of it. Alize and I aren’t spending a single night in this godforsaken house. My father knows how much my mum’s deathstillaffects me.
“He’s trying to get you to act out, Alex,” Ingrid says. “And you know that once he’s made up his mind, it’s hell to get him to change it.”
Maybe I would have listened to her a few months ago, but she doesn’t know how much I’ve changed. I came back here with Alize to make my point, to prove to my father that he no longer controls me. He might have asked me to bring her here as a way of destroying me and what we have, but it’s not going to end the way he thinks.
I’m already one step closer to becoming part of the Kingmaker Society. Soon, I’ll have more influence than him. Finding Alize was the missing piece—I finally have a clear picture of the future I want, and it includes Alize and I being able to choose ourownlife.
I don’t exist to serve Griffin, despite what he might think. The stakes have changed, and my father now needs me more than I need him. I’m going to use that leverage to my advantage.
“I won’t tolerate his disrespect, Ingrid.”
She heaves a sigh. “That man knows no bounds.”
“Neither do I.” I push off from the wall, crossing the room toward the nook where Alize is sitting.
My stomach growls at the sight of the food, and I talk myself into at least eating before going toe-to-toe with my father. I’ll need all the strength I can muster, and arguing while I’m hungry will never end well. Alize looks at me over the rim of her half-empty water bottle.
“Is something wrong?” Her voice is tight, the plastic bottle crinkling in her grip.
I pick up half the sandwich with one hand, leaning back and resting my head on the palm of my other. I’m tempted to tell her everything’s fine—but it’s clear that would be a lie. I take a bite of the sandwich while I gather my thoughts, and I almost spit it out because the texture, the flavour, is too visceral.
This is a fucking foie gras sandwich.
I haven’t had it in more than a decade because it was my mum’s favourite. I can’t even be mad at the chef because I just know my father had a hand in all of this. I swallow the bite I took ruefully, rinsing the taste with a gulp of water.
Alize has stopped eating, watching me carefully. Her eyes search mine. It must be obvious–my anger. And that’s exactly why I don’t want to be in this house. The longer I stay here, the angrier I’m going to be—there are too many memories leaching from these walls.
“I haven’t lived in this house for more than ten years,” I tell her. My voice is low enough that it doesn’t carry through the grand expanse of the room. “We moved away shortly after my mum died.”
Alize’s breath catches, concern washing over her features. She reaches out to take my hand. The soft warmth of her skin against mine silences the choking thoughts. I take her hand to my cheek.
“That’s horrible, Alex,” she says, looking around again, as if through new eyes. “Everything must remind you of her.”
Yes, because she died here.
I can’t even bring myself to say it out loud. It’s already a raw wound, seeping blood into the sterile life I’ve created for myself. The last thing I need is to reopen it completely, to have all the colour in my life replaced with red.
“What can we do?”
My eyes meet hers to find them filled with fire.We, she said.We.
