Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
L eander had, as promised, sobered up by the time Verin snuck him into the house through the slave’s entrance and ushered him into his bedroom.
“The bath is likely cold by now because you took such a long time to get back here, but I’ve had one made up for you. Who knows, maybe the frigid water will help you.” Verin said, his tone cold and uncaring with regards to his half-brother’s predicament.
Leander merely nodded and began to strip.
“Can you at least wait for me to leave?”
Leander paused and turned bodily to look at the Talius scion. It seemed his body didn’t quite want to react to his brain’s commands as well as he would like, because his movements were lethargic, heavy, uncoordinated. He almost toppled over with the effort.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“Father is waiting for you in his study. I suggest you do not take too long and waste his time any further, Leo. He is not impressed.” Verin made his way to the door and opened it.
Pausing on the threshold, he turned his head.
“I will not tell him about the state in which I found you. You would do well to avoid letting on just how far from the tree you have tumbled.”
Verin left Leander, who methodically removed the few layers of clothing he had been wearing, casting them into a pile on the floor for one of the household slaves to deal with, and he crossed the room to his bathing chamber where, as promised, the water was lukewarm at best.
But it didn’t matter because, heeding Verin’s words, he was quick to clean off the grime that had settled on him from his misadventures and was dressed in the finest clothes he could find within half an hour.
Staring into the mirror, there was nothing he could do about his eyes, which still had pinpricks for pupils.
He was currently in a bright room, though, and Flavian was notorious for preferring to work in the dark, so perhaps it would go unnoticed.
Approaching the man’s study, Leander hesitated only briefly before knocking, two knocks: one to get his father’s attention and the other to request entry (any more than that and Flavian would flay him for the irritating disturbance of the house’s peace).
“Enter.”
Leander did so.
The room was, as expected, dark and warm, the source of both light and warmth exuding from the large fireplace, which was ablaze. The fire was quite possibly the only inviting thing about the room, and it crackled, summoning Leander in from the relatively cold corridor beyond.
Sluggishly, Leander made his way into his father’s study. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he sought out the man. His gaze, first, landed on someone he did not expect to see.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” he greeted Leía without inflection in his voice.
“Sit.” Flavian, who was the one to speak, had been standing in the corner of the room, shrouded in darkness up until this point. Leo’s gaze sought the source of the man’s voice and he could vaguely make him out through the darkness.
The flickers of light danced across the Talius Lord’s features, creating flashes of shadow that gave off the impression of appearing more brooding than usual.
Leander knew that his father was powerful: he was the very embodiment of authority, privilege and prestige, and the image before him did nothing to dispel that thought from his mind.
It set him on edge, knowing that Flavian Talius had absolute control over his sons’ lives, and Leander, despite his best efforts to believe otherwise, was no different.
Approaching the available chair opposite his mother, Leander perched on the edge of it, his own disquiet at the situation growing stronger.
Leía still hadn’t said anything. Instead, amber eyes, illuminated and made more vibrant by the fire, regarded him.
There was no coldness to her gaze, Leander was gratified to see.
But neither was there any warmth. Leo thought he might have seen the crease of a frown on her forehead—concentration or worry?
—but it disappeared before he could discern it properly.
What he did know, however, was that Leía knew where Verin had picked him up from… as well as the state he had found him in.
Leander’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, staring back at his mother as she examined him in much the same way a jeweller would inspect a flawed diamond: searching for value and imperfections.
“Yesterday in the council chambers…” Flavian began, drawing half of Leander’s attention away from his mother, “was nothing short of a catastrophe.”
Leander thought that was a slight exaggeration, but he didn’t have the balls to say that to his father.
“Not only did you embarrass this family, but you disrespected King Caisa. Not to mention the insult you gave his honoured guest.”
“It wasn’t my intention to?—”
“It never is, yet you continue this uncouth and crass spectacle with Prince Jarryn every time you see him.”
“Have you noticed that he starts it every time?” Leander interjected, his jaw clenched like a vice at the injustice of receiving a dressing down when it was not his fault .
“I turned up, I attempted small talk. I even tried to ignore him to avoid what happened. Nothing works with that godsforsaken disgrace!”
“Mind your tongue, Leander,” Flavian boomed, his eyes veiled and unreadable but his tone quiet and dangerous in his fury. “The prince might not be here to hear your uncultivated, loutish insults about him, but he is still a prince and has the right to your respect.”
“No one has the right to anything,” Leander muttered, turning his head away.
“What was that? ”
“I said… forget it.”
“No, Leander, tell me. After yesterday, you have proven yourself to exist on a pedestal where your words must be heard and revered by all who can listen. I want to know.” Venom dripped from the very words Flavian spoke, and the room surged with an Aesthesic flare even Flavian couldn’t contain.
It was enough for Leander to fully appreciate, finally, the depths of Flavian’s contempt for his bastard son.
“Respect is earned,” Leander bit out, his tine coloured by anger and frustration. “Prince Jarryn has not even come close to it. Few people have.” He met his father’s gaze, hatred flashing across his eyes as he did so.
Flavian merely smiled, a tight-lipped expression that was utterly devoid of any mirth.
Because there was nothing funny about this conversation.
“Likewise you wish to command the love and respect of mortals across Cariun… with what? Your disgusting attitude towards your own worth and wellbeing.”
Leander bristled, the words hitting home in their truth. But he refused to allow his father to see him display any form of weakness. To give in would be to lose what little remained of his pride.
Flavian continued his diatribe. “How could anyone respect a degenerate such as you when you have nothing but contempt for yourself.”
It wasn’t a question, and Leander didn’t answer. Instead, he turned an accusing glare onto his mother. “Are you just young to sit there and allow him to talk to me in such a manner? ”
Leía’s eyes didn’t even flicker.
Leander felt a sharp pain pierce his chest, an acute, visceral reaction to the realisation that his mother held similar views about him. Maybe she had wanted to ignore it, maybe she had tried. Maybe he had gone too far down a path where there was no reprieve nor redemption.
It took a lot of effort for Leander to tear his gaze away from Leía.
She just sat there , unblinking, unmoving.
Leander couldn’t even get a read on her emotions, divine and immune as she was to mortal arcane gifts.
“You have been given a chance, Leander,” Flavian continued as if Leo had not spoken, “many chances. Ones you have squandered at every opportunity.”
“Have I not done everything you have asked of me?” Leander returned.
“With disdain and spite.”
“You want my magnanimity? Unlikely, Father. You send me to one more school in this thrice-damned city and I might actually implode.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
Leander blinked, not understanding what the man meant.
“You— we— are responsible for safekeeping the wellbeing of thousands of people in this city. And tens of thousands beyond. As a god, you have that same responsibility over millions. And you don’t care.”
That gave Leander reason to pause, to bite back his rebuttal.
Flavian moved from the shadows, coming to stand behind the goddess who had once been his lover. “Profound duty. That is what rests on your shoulders.”
“I know this, Father.”
“I don’t think that you do.” Flavian stared down at his wayward charge with a gaze that flickered with doubt, a momentary wavering of confidence reflected in his eyes and even in the thin strands of emotion that were escaping from his strong barriers.
“But I am, at the very least, duty bound to at least try to impart wisdom.”
This conversation was infuriating. Leander was not able to see a quick out and clearly Flavian wanted to drive the point home so he was stuck here until his father decided to dismiss him. The easiest thing would be to bow to his recommendations with a charming and apologetic veneer.
The demigod bowed his head. “Then explain it to me in words you think I will understand.”
“You are a prime example of how someone was unfit for the mantle of power. Too young, maybe, or simply too arrogant to see exactly what destruction there might be when inimical powers are left in the hands of the incompetent.”
Had he no presence of self, Leander might have gaped like a fish at his father’s hostile and well-aimed words of recrimination.
Thank the Nine, he had been prepared for a verbal lashing from the man and took it with as much stoicism as he could muster, his face remained blank, his eyes never left their target as let the weight of Flavian’s words settle over him.
But Flavian was waiting for a response. Leander merely nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak .
Mollified, Flavian made an announcement. “The king has… requested your presence tomorrow. You are to appear before him at the palace at ten hours past the midnight chime. You are to do as he commands.”
“What? Father?—”
“You will also find that, if you do not change your attitude and actions, your stipend will cease until I can be assured that you will spend my coin wisely. Verin has been tasked with more direct oversight of your diary and you will do well to receive his instructions with grace and dignity.”
Leander had to bite his tongue, lest he lose the generous allowance paid to him with some barely thought through words in response. He wouldn’t put it past the megalomaniacal lord to strip him of those few good things that remained in his life just to prove a point.
“Do you understand, Leander?”
Leander nodded once again. “Yes, Father.”
Chancing a glance at his mother, Leo was unsurprised to see that she had become a statue of sorts, unmoving save the inhalation and exhalation of breaths as she watched the conversation unfold. She really had just watched Flavian scarify him without batting an eyelid.
That sight caused his anger to flare once more. “All you see when you look at me is the son you wish you didn’t have, isn’t it?”
Finally, she spoke, after a deep sigh. “Enough, Leo. I’ve heard this from you a hundred times, and I won’t hear it again. You think love means letting you do whatever you want, but that’s not how it works.”
“Bullshit.” His temper rising again, he was seconds away from proverbially stamping his foot. Leander opened his mouth to speak but Leía finally moved, holding up a hand to stop him from interjecting.
“No. This ends now, because I know this is not you. I have applauded you at your best and I’ve defended and protected you at your worst. For you to waste this chance Taskevi has given you… how can any of us find worth when you see none of it in yourself?”
The wind rushed out of the demigod as he stared at Leía. Hurt, anger, even desperation flared in his stomach. “I just wanted you to care, just once, for a minute out of your busy fucking day. I had worth, a purpose, and you left me here to rot.”
Fighting back his tears, Leander felt nothing but the overwhelm of emotions surge through him. He stood, fists clenched as he breathed heavily, eyes darting between the two impassive expressions on his parents’ faces.
Conversation over, he did not wait to be dismissed by Flavian, choosing to leave now before his emotions really did overpower what was left of his sliver of self-control.
He wanted to be alone, because there was not a chance he would allow either of his parents to see his vulnerabilities shine through the aloof pretence he often presented to the world.