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In this moment, I am reminded of how truly dangerous Sythar is, even though he acts like a big softy around me.
He could probably get across the desk and throw me out the window in less than a minute,I think to myself.
I lift my right hip slightly and unclench my hands in my lap.If he does try anything, slit his throat before he can get his hands around your body.The knife shifts slightly, and I know the hilt will be easier to reach.
This is insane. Sythar will never hurt you. He has invested too much in you.
“You can have the contract, but only after graduation. I need you to prepare more for this, before I think you’re truly ready,” Sythar says.
He continues speaking before I can thank him. “You have impressed me with your little speech. I like your conviction. Just know that we’re all watching you. Now leave.”
I get up and walk out. I only slow down when I am several doors away from Sythar’s office.
I exhale with relief as I sag against the wall.
Finally.
4
DENVE
It is close to dusk when I leave the market district. I did not visit it for any particular reason, except to wander around and get some of the fresh, crisp air that blows in off the sea.
I also like walking around in the market district because it is so utterly different from the life I experience in my parents’ home.
In the market district, no one cares about politics. People don’t care about the King, or what his favorite kind of drink is, or where he has his linens made – a real conversation I overheard between my mother and another noblewoman.
Everyone in this district is too busy trying to make a living. They cannot be bothered about the latest gossip that my mother loves to indulge in. Gossip about which dark elf has left Vhoig to pursue greater things in a different city. Gossip about which dark elf has fallen prey to a human woman.
The air grows colder the darker it gets. The nighttime wind stirs up the sea, and the market vendors quickly pack up their wares.
Instead of going home, I take a walk over to my favorite pub, which is a few streets away from the markets.
Walking is a great distraction from thinking about the party last week and the argument with my father.
All I can do, it seems, is think about the party and how humiliated I feel.
It has always been very clear what my parents thought of me, but to have it verbalized and thrown in my face as some kind of punishment was the worst thing I have ever felt.
As if you won’t go through worse, being their son. As if this will be the worst thing they could ever do to you. As if now that he has gotten that off his chest, he’ll be kinder.
As if you could ever come home and be exactly what they want.
My head spins from the tumultuous thoughts that seem to come at me from all angles.
What will I do? If they really never accept me as their son? Will they dismiss me? Forget about me? Will I fade away into the background?
Is this the start of my death?
“Denve!” Farzhi, one of my friends who I am meeting up with tonight, calls my name from outside the pub.
He waves at me from the busy establishment, and for the first time today, I feel a smile cross my face.
Farzhi’s presence helps me forget that Ocuri came home from a trip today, and my mother practically pushed me down the stairs in her haste to get to her golden son.
They didn’t even notice when I walk past them and out of the front doors of the mansion.
Farzhi has found us a table, and I pull out my coin bag. The pub owner comes over, and I hand him the bag.
