Chapter 3 #2
But I didn’t press the point, mostly because Alaric’s relationship with his father was difficult for me to understand for a lot of reasons.
Alaric seemed to compulsively provoke the Greythorne patriarch––oddly, seemingly more so now, when he was genuinely worried his father might force him to join a dark magical cult.
Stealing his father’s expensive wine was likely another way of poking the bear.
Alaric told me a lot over our spring and summer terms at Malcroix about his father’s temper, his bizarre punishments when Alaric was a child, and his quasi-religious beliefs around racial purity, and something he called “The Project of Worlds.” Apparently, verbal diarrhea following excessive alcohol consumption was a Greythorne family trait, since he seemed to torture Alaric with these dogmatic and utterly weird speeches whenever he got drunk.
Alaric was certain that his father wanted him to join Dark Cathedral, and to carry on the family tradition of hating humans and low-born Magicals.
For the same reason, he flat-out refused to listen to the Priest’s broadcasts with his father in the same room, afraid of what that reality distortion field would do to him in the presence of a true believer.
I didn’t blame him.
Honestly, I didn’t want him doing that, either.
I watched him place the dusty bottle carefully on the silver tray next to the tea service.
He managed to do it and settle back on the couch without disturbing Wraith, and I adjusted my own seat with teacup in hand, tucking my feet under my bum and leaning my back into the soft, midnight-blue cushions as I fought to clear my head.
“I’m supposed to cut you off after this glass if we are going out,” I reminded him.
“You might recall our last club outing? If I allow you to leave the Keep ‘thoroughly messy, one more time,’ you’ll hold me personally responsible for whatever happens next.
Your words.” I sipped my tea, watching his eyes.
“You insisted I cut you off here, since you absolutely cannot… again, your words… be expected to go out and not spend ludicrous amounts of gold on signature cocktails, particularly if there are fit bartenders involved.”
Alaric let out a little sigh.
He glanced at the French doors leading to my balcony, wineglass in hand, still stroking my cat. Warm, slightly humid summer air fluttered the sheer white curtains on either side.
Blinking as he absorbed my words, Alaric shook his head.
“Sadly, I can’t.” He glanced down at Wraith, fingers stroking her soft fur.
“And no rules tonight, love. I’ll need all the fortification I can get before I walk out that door.
Really, you should offer to make me a proper cocktail, as my sparkling hostess.
” He glanced up hopefully. “How are your Serpent Martinis?”
I frowned, still watching his face as I took another sip.
“Not fabulous,” I admitted. “I’ve only ever tried once.”
“Ah. Pity.”
“You really did make me promise,” I said, the tiniest scold in my voice.
“I know. But it won’t matter tonight,” he sighed.
When he fell silent, I nudged his shoulder with mine.
“There’s no need to get blackout drunk, you know.
Nothing bad happened, even if I still managed to look at all the wrong things.
” I bit my lip, then offered it, anyway.
“We can try again tomorrow, if you like. With the recording, I mean. This one was pretty detailed, so it’s possible I can get another look.
I’ll have a better idea of where to aim my eyes this time. ”
He looked startled for the barest breath.
Then his expression grew a touch worried.
“I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea––” he began cautiously.
“Well, think on it,” I said, cutting him off before he could say no.
“All I need is a family crest, or a ring, maybe. And you can probably help me more, since you won’t have the Priest’s signal to worry about.
” I hesitated, then added, my voice subdued, “Otherwise we might be waiting weeks for another missive, you know.”
His hazel eyes regained a touch of that manic light. He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, taking another drink of the wine while he stroked my cat.
He glanced at me, his expression nearly stricken.
“You know, I’d probably go crazy if I didn’t have you to talk to about this, Leda,” he said, his eyes and voice serious.
“I mean it. I don’t think I would’ve got through this summer without you.
I’d have run off to the Maldives by now, paid a dark sorcerer to change my face, if not turn me into a blond, pale-skinned witch. ”
For some reason, Alaric’s quiet confession made me feel guilty all over again.
Was I taking advantage of that need in him?
Was I using his desperation to quell my own?
Or was it just that we both needed this, so we were each feeding one another’s unhealthy spirals?
I honestly couldn’t decide. Before I could think how to reply to his words, he sucked down another mouthful of wine.
His hazel eyes met mine as he lowered the glass.
“And when I said ‘I can’t’ earlier, I meant Ravenous,” he added apologetically. “I can’t go out with you tonight, sweetness. I promised. And I’ve been putting him off for weeks.”
I hated that I understood instantly.
I knew instantly who and what Alaric meant.
My chest started to hurt in the same breath.
Alaric took another quick drink and added, “He sounded positively feral when I spoke to him earlier. I don’t dare change plans on him again.
I certainly can’t risk showing up at a club with you after telling him I’m unavailable.
If he happened to be at the same place, or even hear about it from someone else, he might actually kill me. ”
I scoffed, but half-choked on it. I felt my face grow hot as I looked away.
Was it anger? Sadness? Frustration?
Some other reaction I was even less interested in dissecting?
A sick roil of nausea swept through me at the thought, starting with my gut and ending with a hardening of my jaw. My stomach twisted in a familiar, leaden way that made me feel hopeless, confused, grief-stricken, and worse, embarrassed.
How did just the barest reminder of his existence still affect me like this?
What was wrong with me? Was my brain broken? Some other part of me?
It had been nearly a year, for fuck’s sake.
Alaric and I had lived together at the Dragon’s Keep for longer than I’d had Caelum Bones in my life.
After two summers and one winter break, Alaric and I had been neighbors and friends for longer than the short period of time I’d known Bones even peripherally.
That didn’t even include all the time Alaric and I spent at coffee shops, pubs, and restaurants in Bonescastle while classes were in session.
I glanced around my suite, jaw clenched.
In general, my experience of Magique should have vastly improved.
I’d gotten licensed and cleared for both flying and solo mirror travel in May, which meant I could use the mirror-paneled wall in the hotel’s lobby, as well as the rooftop and even my own balcony for flying.
The mirrors, in particular, changed my experience of London entirely, and not only when I didn’t have the time or inclination to use one of the slower ways to get around.
It gave me many more minutes and hours each day to work on new magic, to read, even to explore, as, unlike the previous summer, I didn’t have to spend a good chunk of my morning and evening devising ways to get to things, and then ways to get back to the Keep afterwards.
I even liked my new suite liked this one better than the others I’d had, despite it having only one bedroom.
The common room had more bookshelves, better light for reading, more comfortable furniture, a larger balcony, more plants, and even a better view.
The row of windows in the main living area overlooked the river and Magical London’s version of Big Ben.
When my first full year at Malcroix Bones Academy ended, I hadn’t really known what to do with myself. Miranda had wanted me to come to America and spend the entire summer with her in Malibu. I could tell Draken wanted that, too.
I did visit them. I spent over a week in California with Draken, Luc, and Miranda, right after the year let out, then another week in France with Jolie, the two of us running around Paris then the C?te d'Azur while her parents were off on an extended trip in Asia.
After that, however, I’d returned to London.
I hadn’t fully admitted to myself why I’d come back, not until I finished checking into the Dragon’s Keep, dumped my things in my new suite, then immediately found Alaric’s room, and Alaric, to explain what I had in mind.
He’d been on board instantly, and by the end of that first conversation, feverishly enthusiastic.
Alaric lowered his wineglass, back to studying my eyes.
“Trust me, love. I’d rather go to Ravenous,” he said.
“But I really, truly promised this time.” He huffed out a sigh that was only partly affected.
“I’m not looking forward to it. I’d thought he was bad the second half of last year.
I truly hadn’t thought he could get worse, yet he somehow has.
I’m sure he’s even less happy to be at his family estate than I was.
The difference is, his father actually wants him at home.
Whereas mine doesn’t hide his utter relief when I fuck off out of his sight for all but those few hours he demands my attention. ”
I bit my lip.
I told myself not to say anything, to stay silent, to keep my mouth shut when it wasn’t actively sipping tea.
I reminded myself that Alaric and Caelum were friends, that Alaric had a right to complain about his friends without me piling on or even offering an opinion other than to hum sympathetically and be silently supportive.
I should let him vent, let him say whatever he wanted and keep my unsolicited opinions to myself––