Page 21

Twenty

Sebastian

Ten days? Ten fucking days? Even Gabriel had fourteen, and Eve is the nicest person on the planet. I’d been worried about training Ophelia in a month, given our history and her background. But ten days? I might as well chop my own head off and send it to Randall Calder wrapped up like a Christmas present.

Which is exactly what Skeletor wants. Did he and the others plan this beforehand? A way to back Kendrick into a corner? He can veto this vote if my new bestie votes with him, but what then? The vote to go to war right away has already failed. And although I don’t want to admit it, these people have a point.

The Calders can hurt a lot of people in a month. And every single thing they do will be another knife in my gut. Another stone on my conscience.

Ten days. I’m not Jacob, with his years of experience, but I’m good at getting under people’s skin. I’ve spent years making people believe what I want them to. Ophelia needs to believe, with every fiber of her being, that she should behave at the ceremony .

Ten days. If I can do it, then maybe no one else will get hurt by my quest for revenge.

Kendrick reaches for his stone. Before he has the chance to flip it to white, I say, “I can do it.”

This time, no one berates me for speaking. Jacob frowns, but Kendrick studies me, lips tight, as I push on. “I can do it, sir. This makes sense. I don’t want to cause any more damage than I already have.”

I turn to the four who want me dead. “And when Ophelia Calder kneels and kisses my hand, I expect all of you to clap.”

The poison dwarf snorts. “If she does, I’ll kneel and kiss your fucking hand myself.”

“Enough!”

Kendrick’s raised voice is enough to quiet the room. It’s hard to judge his expression. His face is still tight, but there’s something in the way he’s looking at me that might just indicate respect. Or maybe I’m imagining it and he still thinks I’m an idiot.

He picks up his stone. “If you believe you can do it, Sebastian, I won’t stand in your way. Three for red.”

The thud of his stone is followed by five more thuds. A sea of red stares back at me as Kendrick lifts his hammer. “Motion carried.”

He brings it down with a crack.

My four enemies exchange smug glances as Kendrick speaks again. This time, his voice crackles with authority. “And I’m setting a seal on this meeting. Nothing discussed here is to leave these walls. It’s absolutely vital the girl doesn’t learn of this, and if she does, I’ll know one of you—” He glares at each councilman in turn. “— is a traitor. And you’re all well aware of what happens to traitors. Meeting dismissed. ”

Their faces sober instantly, and my curiosity kicks into overdrive. What do we do with traitors? Boil them in oil? Stake them out in the sun, covered in honey, for ants to eat? Not that we have those sorts of ants here. Do we? Maybe we’d import them from Australia or somewhere like that.

“Sebastian.” Kendrick’s voice makes me jump yet again, and the poison dwarf notices. He shoots a smirk at me. Screw him. I really need to find out who the hell he is and what I’ve done to piss him off. “I’ll see you and Jacob in my office.”

***

Kendrick’s office is almost soothing after the nightmarish meeting, and I accept the drink he pours me with great relief. Jacob shifts on a spindly chair, and it lets out an ominous creak. If it breaks and sends him sprawling, it’ll almost be funny enough to make up for all the stress. To my great disappointment, though, it holds.

Kendrick wastes no time. “That went as well as could be expected, I suppose. It worked in your favor that Andrews despises Brant and Olwani. Once they opened their mouths, he would have voted against them no matter what. He also loves a fight, though you wouldn’t think it to look at him.”

Andrews must be my white knight. My hero in sensible spectacles.

“But all that aside, you have ten days. How do you intend to make it count? I can help you adjust your training plan for the reduced time you have. Do you have it to hand?”

I don’t, because it doesn’t exist. A familiar feeling unfurls in the pit of my stomach, and my body tenses. Angry, frustrated shame at my own uselessness. I’m back, standing at the teacher's desk, trying to explain why I forgot my homework for the third time that week. That I spent half the class jotting ideas for something totally unrelated to the lesson because I just HAD to.

I failed in school, badly, for years, until I finally got a private tutor who understood the way I learn and unlocked my potential. I know how this conversation will go, and sweat coats my skin before I even open my mouth.

Disbelief at my carelessness. Disappointment that he stuck his neck out this far for someone who hasn’t even bothered to make a formal training plan. Strict instructions to do something that I’ll mess up, then the whole cycle will start again.

Jacob, the beautiful bastard that he is, saves me. “It’s a living document, sir. Given how unstable this situation is, we worked out a set of guidelines that could be adjusted to reflect any eventuality, even this one. We’ve got it under control, and Ophelia will behave at the ceremony. You can count on it.”

Once all this is over, I’m taking Jacob to do whatever stupid thing he wants. We’ll watch soccer, drink his horrible British beer, and eat the soggy monstrosities that pass for fries in his world. Anything to let him know how grateful I am.

Kendrick visibly relaxes. “Ah. I’ll take your word for it.”

Of course he will. Who wouldn’t?

We finish our drinks and spend a few minutes discussing the ceremony before Kendrick lets us go. Only Jacob and I will be initiated this time. Once we’re out in the fresh air, I heave a few deep lungfuls of it before collapsing on a bench. Jacob sits down beside me, staring off into the distance.

“Could be worse,” he says after a long silence.

“It could.” Exhaustion hits me in a toxic wave. I didn’t sleep much last night, not like Ophelia on her pet bed. She slept like a log. Maybe I should lock the bedroom door and have a nap on it later. I rest my forearms on my knees and yawn.

“Oi.” Jacob jabs me with an elbow. “You need to be sharp, mate. Lots to do.”

“Yep.” I stifle another yawn and force my head up. “Those guidelines you mentioned. Do they actually exist? Care to share them?”

Jacob grins. “Thought you’d never ask. To make her submit, you can’t just bully her. She needs to be scared of you, sure, but there’s more to it.”

“Enlighten me.”

“She needs to see a life for herself here, something more than being trapped in your room. You need to find something she’ll enjoy.”

“This is supposed to be a punishment.” I hate how sullen the words sound, but I can’t seem to stop it.

Jacob snorts. “You stole her life. If this goes the way we want, her dad and brother will probably die, too. Pretty decent punishment, if you ask me.”

Always so logical. It must drive Quinn crazy. I sigh. “So you want me to go all soft on her?”

“Fuck no. You need to be strict as all hell. But she needs happiness, too. And there’s another side to it.”

“Oh, good. And what’s that?”

“She needs to really understand the security here. All Wards think they can escape. She needs to believe no one is going to help her and there's no way out. The only way she’ll submit to you is if she’s decided making the best of it here, with you, is her only option.”

I raise a hand, ticking off on my fingers. “So put the fear of God into her, make her believe she’s here forever, and give her a sense of happiness and fulfillment. All within ten days. ”

“That about covers it.”

The weariness rushes back, and I lean against the bench as Jacob gets to his feet. “Right, I’ll love you and leave you, mate. Quinn should be just about done at Medical. She’ll be happy when I tell her we’re moving initiation forward.”

A tiny smile touches his lips, and his features soften in the way they often do when he talks about Quinn. “I can’t wait to see my tattoo on her.”

Oh, Christ. The tattoo. I haven’t even thought about what to do for Ophelia—I always imagined something would leap out at me as I got to know her better. So far, nothing has leapt.

The rest of the day stretches out in front of me. Ophelia and I, alone in my apartment. What will I do with her? My skin tingles, banishing some of the weariness. That odd, intoxicating sense of power creeps back in. Whatever I want. That’s what.

But at the same time, Jacob’s words needle me. I need to get her out of my room. As Jacob raises a hand in farewell, I ask, “How about dinner later? Dress Quinn nice, for once.”

***

I open the door to such an oddly domestic, peaceful scene that it freezes me in the doorway. Eve and Ophelia sit together on the sofa, legs curled under them, chatting. The TV is on, but neither of them is watching. I catch the end of Ophelia’s sentence. “That’s so interesting. I never heard of it bef—”

She cuts off, and her gaze lands on me. Even though I’m the one who forced it on her, the change in her appearance surprises me all over again. In the hours we’ve been apart, my mental image of her had reverted to the prim, buttoned-up blonde .

Ophelia did as she was told and dressed in the clothes left for her, but there's something different about the way she’s sitting. Shoulders back, chin up. Not hiding herself.

She’s paired a silver miniskirt with a red satin bra and layered a sheer black top over it. The effect should be tacky, but it compliments her hair. Someone—I’m guessing Quinn—has done her makeup, and the bold eyeliner sets off her long fake lashes. A hint of red stains her full lips.

Christ, she looks incredible.

I catch Eve smirking at my reaction and put my jaw back where it should be. Ophelia flinches slightly as I give her a slow once-over but otherwise doesn’t react. I give her my brightest smile. “Good news, darling. That silly business with your family is all sorted out. You’re staying here with me.”

Her chest rises with a deep breath, but her voice comes out hard as she replies, “Bullshit.”

I make a show of looking around. “I don’t see anyone here to escort you home. My head isn’t in a box, making its way to your father.”

Another shuddering breath, and her gaze flicks between me and the door. Eve gets to her feet, face tense. A sliver of guilt edges under my skin. She’s a captive, too, for all that she’s head over heels for Gabriel. It can’t be easy for her to hear me taunting Ophelia. She flashes me a tight smile. “I’ll let Gabriel know it’s time to go.”

She heads toward my office, but Gabriel appears before she reaches the door. He slips his arm around Eve’s waist, and she leans into him, body relaxing at his touch. Ophelia watches them, brow creased.

“Did she behave? No toaster incidents? ”

Gabriel rolls his eyes at the memory. “No. She’s much more sensible than Quinn, though that’s not exactly difficult. How did it go? You’re still alive, so I’m guessing well.”

“Of course. Just a few mutterings from some nervous old men. Kendrick put them in their place.”

“Good. I’m glad she’s staying. A better influence on Eve than Quinn, I think.”

Eve’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t respond. She can see the game we’re playing and isn’t going to ruin it. Gabriel will have hell to pay later, though, if the look in her eyes is anything to go by.

“Yes. In fact, now that everything is sorted out, I thought we could head out to dinner tonight. Jacob and Quinn are coming.” I turn to Ophelia. “You’ll enjoy La Table Royale. It puts three-star Michelin restaurants to shame.”

“Sounds good,” Gabriel says.

He’s lying, of course. Both my friends hate La Table Royale, the stuffy, upmarket restaurant that sits above the refectory. Even I find it a bit too formal and old-fashioned. It definitely caters to the older generation.

The main point, though, is that today is a Friday, and that means the place will be packed.