39. Chapter 39
Elias
Islammed the door to my bathroom, leaning down to splash cold water over my face. Dozens of drones were present in our home—for the first time in years—and August chose now to make a scene.
He was more than furious; he was livid. He would remove Maryn from the party bodily. My not-so-subtle reminders of the eyes of the nation on us weren’t enough to stop him. The fury in his eyes was something I’d grown used to over the years.
He would do it. He would ensure she was eliminated tonight regardless of the results of this trial. His first plan had failed. Because of me. He would ensure he didn’t fail twice.
Not if I had anything to say about it.
Another splash of cold water shocked my senses, and I reined the murderous thoughts in.
I looked up, forcing a smile. It wasn’t as hard as it should have been.
Years of practice had made me an expert at showing the world what a perfect family we were. I wondered now if that was all we’d ever been. A performance. The perfect manufactured family, complete with a manufactured son.
Tonight should have been everything I dreamed of. Maryn’s results would have solidified her place by my side for all the world, and in only a few more trials, she would be mine.
If my father didn’t get in the way.
I turned, yanking the door open and stormed out.
I paused at the edge of the hall to my father’s office. The guard was missing even though he’d been instructed to remain outside the door all night. Odd.
I stepped into the hall and quirked a brow at the door standing partially ajar.
Stepping into the room, I froze.
“Maryn?” My gaze swiveled from her to my aide. “Micah?”
The pair looked at me as though they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “What’s going on?”
Micah stepped toward me. “Your guest wandered into a room she shouldn’t have. I’m handling it.”
I laid a hand on his arm. “No need to make any arrests tonight, Micah. I’m sure she was lost.”
Maryn’s eyes were wide, terrified, and she nodded. “Yes. I was looking for the restroom.”
Micah glanced between my hand on his arm and Maryn.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.
For a moment, it was as if some silent conversation played between them.
I looked at my friend, then at Maryn. They’d grown up outside the wall together.
Micah was older by several years, but Maryn was one of the most lovely women I’d ever met.
Even in her earlier years, she would have caught a man’s attention.
Had I missed it? Was it right in front of me this entire time?
Was Maryn the girl Micah was upset about?
I released him, stepping back.
“Actually, I still need to use the restroom,” Maryn said.
Her words snapped me out of it. I already knew who Micah was worried about. I'd seen her on the tape.
I nodded. “It’s just outside. I’ll show you the way.”
“No,” she said too quickly. “I can find it.”
I tracked her movement as she crossed to the door, tensing.
She turned, glancing back at me, and a smile touched her lips. Not the false, bright smiles I was forced to fabricate. It was soft, tentative.
“I’ll see you out there?”
My chest squeezed. “Yeah.”
Her lips tipped up, and warmth spread through my middle.
The door clicked behind her as I faced Micah once more.
“Please be gentle with her. I’m fond of her.”
His brows were low slashes as he straightened, glancing around the room. His gaze lingered on August’s whiskey collection. Something about the way he looked at it made me pause.
I dismissed it, moving to the table. “Let’s have a drink.”
“I’m working.”
I looked up, snorting. “You work for me. You can have a drink.”
I chose my father’s favorite, sliding two glasses toward me and lifting the bottle to pour. “I want to celebrate with—” I looked up. “My oldest friend?”
I hated the insecurity lacing my words, but Micah's distance these past few weeks had been a weight, refusing to budge. I knew what haunted him. I just hadn't found a way to fix it yet.
He moved, gaze trailing to the glass I held out to him.
He took it.
I almost said something. Almost told him I knew, that I was already trying to help. But this wasn't the moment, not with eyes everywhere tonight.
I lifted my glass. “A toast.” I touched my glass to his. “To my Rite.” I smiled. “To a wedding in the near future.”
I pressed the glass to my lips.
Micah lunged forward, knocking the tumbler from my hand. It crashed into the glass table, shattering it and sending all the whiskey bottles toppling to the floor.
I looked between my empty hand and my aide. “Micah, what the hell?”
His wild eyes darted around the room, searching for… I had no idea what.
“I couldn’t let you drink it.”
Cold leeched into my veins as my focus darted to the sea of dark liquid spreading across the floor, searching for escape, carrying bits of broken glass with it.
I looked up.
Swallowed.
“No.”
My father’s favorite. The one I’d been about to drink.
He didn’t even try to hide the guilt burning in his eyes. That hurt worse than any secret.
“Micah.”
His eyes locked on mine, guilt turning to anguish, and he dropped to his knees. “Please.”
I felt something I hadn’t expected. Not rage—something colder. Someone had gotten to Micah. Someone had discovered the one relationship I trusted completely and turned it into a weapon.
“Why?” I asked, ignoring his hands as he held them up. “You were a brother to me.”
The color drained from his face. “Please, Elias, save my sister. Save Jemmi.”
I stared at the man who’d tried to kill my father, but who saved my life instead.
He wasn’t asking to be spared.
I wasn't sure I could give him what he wanted. I'd been trying since the night I realized who she was. If I'd told him that, maybe none of this would have happened.
“I—”
The door opened.
I turned.
My father appeared in the doorframe, two guards on his heels, and my pulse kicked up.
“What’s this?”
I stepped between him and Micah. “Send him to the Lower.”
His eyes moved over the room. The broken bottle. The dark stain spreading across the floor. Micah on his knees.
“Treason. Inside my house.”
“His sister is in that facility.”
August narrowed glacial eyes on me. “And?”
I straightened, but didn’t stop the guards who moved around me, slapping handcuffs on my aide. “He must have felt he had no choice.”
My father barked a laugh. “What do you think happens to the others when they fail?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “They don’t get to go home and find another match. Touch another man.” His voice dropped. “Everyone knows how it works but you.”
He straightened his collar, glancing past me as his guards hauled Micah to his feet. “A true patriot knows the sacrifices that must be made.”
His gaze returned to me. Disappointed.
My jaw tightened.
He stepped past me, motioning for the guards to follow. “Grow up.”