Page 109

This morning had been such a red-hot blur of anger, horniness, and hatred that I almost forgot to wonder if she might be right. Not that it matters. Father would agree with her regardless–because that’s what we are. What we’ve always been.

Lesser. Deficient.

I shift my legs, propping my ankle on a knee. Next to me, Pace’s leg starts that bouncing thing, jackhammering up and down. Lex, on the other hand, is as still as a statue.

Father flips the book open to a page in the middle, finger running down what seems to be a chart. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise that Whitaker is in the lead, with a record of–goodness.” His eyes flick up to mine, and he sets his pen down. “Seventeen deposits.” I brace myself for the admonition, the back of my neck prickling with the threat. But a threat doesn’t come. Instead, he gives me a sly, pleased smile. “Well done, son.”

The sense of relief that spreads through my chest is only outshined by the cringe of disgust I cover with a grin. “Thank you, Father.”

He’s never congratulated me on fucking before.

I need a million showers after this.

Never one to let a good criticism go to waste, he retrieves his pen and adds, “I hope you’ll consider the value of quality over quantity, however.” He assesses the page again. “Pace, although your numbers are a bit lower, you’ve had a respectable eight deposits.” He looks up at my brother and gives him a rare nod of encouragement. “You may want to consider adding a few more to your days, but overall, good work.”

Pace’s knee slows its bounce, the tension leaving his limbs. “I’ll do that, sir, thank you for the advice.”

Meeting his gaze, Father asks, “And how is our mutual project coming along?”

I glance at my brother, brows knitting together. Pace gets that weird, hunted look he’s had ever since returning, but he covers it well enough, giving Father a bounce of his chin. “Slow but steady.”

Father jabs the point of his pen in Pace’s direction. “That’s the way it’s done. A Princess like Verity will need a steady hand. Consistency, patience, reinforcement.”

“I agree,” Pace replies, nodding. “The Princess is everything you said she is. Willful, proud, combative. But she shows moments of…” Here, he seems to choose his words very carefully. “Dedication,” is the one he lands on. “Being Princess is her own project. She wants to succeed.”

Father’s eyebrows tick up. “Is that so?”

“She seemed disappointed,” Pace explains. In my periphery, I see his fingers lacing and unlacing. “That she isn’t pregnant yet.” Father hums, mulling this over, and the pieces click into place.

Pace is responsible for her behavioral conditioning.

A nervousness writhes inside my chest, because that should be me. I’m the one who seduces. I’m the one who finesses. I’m the talker and the extractor. But Pace always has been better at the long game. Patient to a fault. Consistent, just like Father said. I take advantage of moments of weakness, but Pace is the one who creates them.

To create is to reign.

Suddenly, all the relief and praise I felt before is drowned with uncertainty and doubt.

And I’m not the only one squirming.

The seat next to me creaks and I slide my gaze over, seeing Lex’s hands grip the arms of the chair. His knuckles are white, veins tensing in the back of his hands.

When I look back, Father is staring at him. “And how many deposits did you make during this cycle, Lagan?”

Pace’s knee twitches at the use of the name Lagan, and the hair on the back of my neck spikes.

Lex starts to clear his throat and then stops himself. “Four.” And then, “No. Five.”

Father leans back, tapping his pen against the page. “Which is it? Four or five?”

“Well, I–” Lex’s fists flex, fingertips digging into the arms. “One of my deposits was comprised of two–”

“You made four.” Father’s voice is hard, final.

Lex deflates. “Yes, sir. One on each of my assigned days.”

A chill settles over the room. There’s no doubt where this is going. There’s no escaping the train collision heading our—his—way.

“I’d like to congratulate you as I have your brothers, but one deposit per day is the bare minimum. A disappointment.Mediocrity.” Lex pales at the word. In Father’s eyes, mediocre is the worst thing a person can be. He folds the notebook and sets it in front of him, on the desk. “It’s unacceptable.”