Page 128 of Shattered Stars

“Exactly like a baby should be. Chubby and gorgeous.” She peers up at me with such obvious admiration it makes me feelguilty. When it happens, when they find out the truth, will she be disappointed or might she understand?

I think she loved my father once upon a time. I’ve seen the photos, her gazing up at him with the same admiration, hanging on to his arm like she never wanted to let go.

Could I tell her? Would she understand?

I shake the idea from my mind. It’s too risky. For her. I already fear she’ll be forced to face my father’s wrath when he discovers my intentions. Better she can plead ignorance.

“I’d better get going,” I tell her, “can’t be late for the ball.”

“Your father wants to see you before you leave,” she says, still smiling, although now it’s straining at the edges.

I nod, kiss her cheek and leave her, padding down the staircase towards my father’s room. I knock but he’s not in there and instead I find him at the dining table, today’s newspapers spread out in front of him.

“You’re in all of them,” he says, not looking up as I enter the room.

“Am I?” I ask coolly.

“Well, of course, the victorious dueling team and their victory ball. Talk of the town.” My father slams shut the paper he was reading and glares up at me. “Idiots. Don’t they know there are more important concerns than little boys and their playing?”

I don’t react. I’ve learned not to. Instead, I adopt that placid expression. Betraying no interest or emotion at all. I don’t move either, no twitch of a muscle, no jerk of a limb. Completely still, nothing to provoke him.

It’s how I first learned I could do it, disappear. I guess I wanted to be able to so badly I found a way. To melt away, to hide from his view, to disappear into the shadows. Somewhere he couldn’t find me.

It saved me a beating numerous times, although there were plenty of times it didn’t. Times I had to let him find me, see me, so he wouldn’t learn my secret.

“I hope you’re not letting this get to your head,” he says, his hateful gaze scanning me, lingering on my hair. He frowns.

“No, Sir. It was just a match. One match.”

“Exactly, although it obviously did something to that Moreau boy. Do you know why he left?”

“No,” I answer, thankful for once I don’t have to lie. I still don’t understand it. Why would he choose to leave?

“He won’t be back tonight?”

I shake my head. I’ve messaged him but I’ve only received a handful back. Short. Perfunctory. Telling me fuck all. I wonder what did happen to him. If I should have talked to him more. We were always rivals, sure, competing, challenging each other. But underneath it all, he was my friend. My best friend. The only one I could trust. I don’t understand what happened.

Was it the werebeast attack? In all the years I’ve known him, in all the years I’ve known his secret, I’d never known him lose control like that. Did it shake him more than he let on? Because I handled it for him, didn’t I? I stopped him doing any real damage. When it came down to it, I had his back, just as I expected he’d always have mine.

I blink, realizing my father is still watching me.

“What is it?”

I open my mouth, nearly confessing how much I miss my damn friend. But what would he care? All it would do is hand him knowledge he’d use against me.

“Just thinking about my speech that’s all.”

“The one you’ll be making at the ball?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He examines me some more. “Have you heard from Moreau?”

I force myself not to frown. “A little.”

“What does he tell you?”

“Not a lot,” I say honestly.