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“He wouldn’t want that,” Castor says.
She turns to me. “You’re his brother.”
“I’m ageminaein his house. We are relatives, but it’s not the same thing.”
“That’s stupid.”
Castor laughs. “True. But it’s the law.”
“Well, one of us has to go if Alder can’t.”
I let out a sigh. Because this is a battle I’m not going to win. “The trial will start early. Let’s get you to sleep.”
She nods, and we head back to the podroom.
“It’s so big without Nico here.”
I glance at Castor, and he nods. “We could take you to our apartment.”
Her sleepy eyes brighten. “I’d like that.”
Castor sends his parents a message on his block, and we’re soon in the elevator with a small bag of clothes. “It’s not much,” he tells Belle.
“It’s fine. I think it will be easier to sleep if I don’t feel like it’s a museum, sorry.”
“I understand. There’s actually a duplicate bust that we own that’s in the Athens Museum of Art. I used to put a garland wreath of seaweed on its head every October 16th.”
“Is that a holiday?”
Castor shakes his head. “No, I just used to pretend that was its birthday. In Athens, it’s under glass.”
We all laugh. The tension is broken.
“We can sleep in my room,” Castor says.
I’m too tired to argue. Castor unlocks our door. It’s good to be home. I was down here for a few minutes earlier today. But that feels like forever ago. The lights flick on as we walk in. It’s cleaner than when we left on theCentauri.
He leads her down the hallway to his bedroom. The primary bedroom. It’s twice the size of Nico’s and four times the size of mine. But Belle stops at the doorway to my room. I’d left it open when I came down earlier. She turns to me. “This is your room?”
I nod.
“Thought so.”
I stop and try to see what she sees. But to me it’s just my room. “Why do you think that?”
“It’s warm, and while it’s sparse, it has some mementos. Nico wouldn’t keep mementos.”
No, he wouldn’t. I keep them for him.
She stops in front of Nico’s room, but Castor tugs her along. Nico doesn’t let anyone in his room for good reason. “This way. Let’s get you to sleep, Annabelle. The trial will be soon enough.”
Nico wouldn’t even want Alder there if he were awake. My gut squeezes thinking about Dad being alone in the hospital. I’m not going to get emotional. He’s the last semblance I have of family. If he dies, Muster won’t make it either. Not alone. He might not be home much, but he and Alder are still tethered as a pod, even though Richeal is long gone.
My eyes flit up. Not to heaven, but to the apartment we just came from. How different could things have been for all of us?
I shake my head. I’m tired too. And thinking about this now, before Nico’s trial, before the ball that will matter the most to Belle . . . it’s not helping anything. Regret doesn’t help you live, and resentment eats you from the inside until you have no life left. At least, that’s what Dad used to say.
Castor’s room is sleek. Modern and almost human-like, the bed is big but not out of proportion. The lights are dimmed and the bed made. Ophelia’s butlers have a way of making their way downstairs. Not that Castor couldn’t afford it himself. He could afford something grander than this. But unlike his mother, he’s practical. “The bathroom is that door. That’s my private office.”
