37
THE SOCIALITE
“What did I say about quality of life in poor things that can’t perform basic functions?” my father preached. “The poor thing was even trying to put herself down in her sleep. Walked right off.” His hand smoothed through the air, gesturing a fall.
Such a morbid conversation for afternoon tea.
The parlor was full of guests and staff, afternoon tea service fit for Hosts and Vipera.
My father and I were tucked into the back corner by the lustrous palm.
A sofa surrounded by other chairs, but no one dared to fill them.
The rest of the room had small tables and chairs for them to take.
My father would be insulted if he wasn’t the outlier in treatment.
But I believed the other representatives understood this most of all.
“It’s a shame, really,” he sighed. “She is quite lovely. A pity to waste.”
“Can we keep the conversations lighter?” I begged. “We can truly pick any other subject.”
“Oh, does it bother you?” The question was more of a challenge.
“No.” I smiled. “She is under a lot of stress lately.”
“Yes, stress, that must be it. Of course.” He shrugged, then became distracted by the staff bringing our drinks.
He had his typical coffee, but mine wasn’t the one I liked. I was tired of it. When I raised my hand to correct the staff, my father placed his hand over mine to lower it.
“Your tea selection is a bit embarrassing, so I brought some,” he said, in the most unfriendly way he could. “It takes a moment to adjust when you haven’t had finer things in some time.”
I nodded slowly, staring down at the soft pink tea. This was his way of asserting himself, I knew it. But it didn’t make it any less frustrating.
It was an empire service tea. Little chamomile blossoms danced across the surface and a nutty almond scent blended with vanilla, as if it was something I’d be able to taste. I largely preferred something caffeinated and dark. Assam was a safe choice for me.
My father looked offended that I didn’t touch it yet.
I cupped it in my palms, taking a sip. It was basically hot water with a small taste of the bitter nut.
“I feel for the girl, you know,” he continued against my will. “Jacek and I worked for many years together. Fifteen before he began more independent work.”
I stared at him over the rim of my cup.
“I know you may have a bad impression of him because of Alina. He was a proper man, no wife to raise his child, there wasn’t much other choice but to let her fend for herself a bit.
It’s the best way to raise them,” he explained, smacking his lip after a good taste of his coffee. “He was a good man, in the end.”
“Did he know?” I bit my lip. “About us?”
“He knew enough,” he said. “He knew about the Vipera, and he knew I was one too. I hired him for research to help understand our biology more. Of course, he was delighted. She is much like him in that way, insatiably curious.”
“What was it,” I pressed on, “the research?”
“Just an experiment.” He kept it vague. “There is still much to learn about ourselves, our capabilities and our limitations.”
“Is that it?”
“I suppose he was high on discovering something new, or the chance to create something in the process. To breathe life into invention is a beautiful thing,” he reminisced almost dreamlike as he described it. It even made him smile. “Enough about me—how are you? Sleeping well? A good diet, I trust?”
“I am well.”
“Do you still need companions in order to sleep?” he teased.
“I have my own room.”
“You and Alina used to have so many sleepaway visits. I really did spoil you. The benefits of being the youngest.” He reached over to pinch my cheek, but I dodged the grab.
His smile faltered but returned as quickly as it fell. “You used to bite in your sleep. Do you still do that?”
“I’m not a child,” I snapped.
His eyes narrowed, tipping his head at me. “I suppose so. You even got married.” He was having a hard time keeping the sneer away. “Alin Lis? I didn’t know Alina had another sibling.”
“Hyphenated,” I corrected.
It didn’t seem to make a difference. But the second mention was enough to tell me he was bothered. He had a special fascination with changing the last name, another thing from this family to remove, even if it was my mother’s.
We finished our drinks in silence, his eyes more calculated now. I suppose that’s how he always was when people weren’t looking.
With such a rough first part of the day, I did the only thing I knew would make me feel better. I went to see Alina.
While our last encounter left me extremely uneasy and thoroughly unwell—Silas informed me she was awake.
Never had one of her sleepwalking fits been like this before.
My fear aside, I felt somewhat responsible that she wandered off the roof.
I could have shaken her awake, or even bitten her if it meant snapping her out of her somnambulance.
Between my father and my current home life, I was always out of breath. Literally and metaphorically. I ribbed my knuckles anxiously, picking at the fork punctures that refused to fade.
Sidney stood tall between the French doors, arms clasped in front as he stood guard. I approached slowly, clutching my small basket.
“Still asleep?”
Sidney nodded regrettably, then eyed the basket.
I pulled out a piece of sour blood candy. The more I made them, the more uniform they became. I placed it in his open palm before he popped it into his mouth.
“They’re getting better.” He chewed. “Good texture and taste.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I grinned. “I thought she’d like some for when she woke.”
“I’m sure she will,” he assured me, opening the door for me to slip past.
My breath was already shallow, but just the sight of her made me lose my breath completely. Perhaps there was caffeine in my tea. I may faint if my pace was at the lightest jog.
Alina’s chest rose and fell. The black hair draped over the pillows and her chest was so stark against the cream color of the room.
She was in such a deep rest that she didn’t stir when I arrived, and neither when I moved to her bedside and the chair scraped against the floor when I pulled it forward.
I set the basket on her nightstand, leaning back in the chair as I watched her.
Alina was just as hard to talk to when she was asleep as when she was awake.
Just the intensity of her looks intimidated most. Her mind too frightened people.
She knew a lot of things, eclectic things that most people don’t think about on a daily basis.
God forbid someone treated her as if she were a novice.
She had a hatred for repeating herself and of questions she deemed painfully simple-minded.
Her chest rose, the rattling still present even as it fell.
Of course she would have a hard time; nothing is simple or easy when it comes to Alina.
She was far too complex for that. Even if things were handed to her on a silver platter, she would find a way to make retrieval difficult.
That included any sort of assistance, even when in dire need.
I was mourning her already.
“I never wanted it to be this way, you know.” I shifted the seat closer to the bed so I could touch her hand. She was burning hot.
I may not get a chance to speak with her again, so I must make this count.
“I was selfish with you. Jealous too,” I began, but she remained unresponsive. “I always have been. Envious of those who have your time. I’m covetous of the wind that whispers to you and every sweet thing that’s ever touched your tongue and elicited even the tiniest amount of pleasure.”
The one-sided conversation bothered me less as I spoke. It was cathartic. Words I’d needed to say but couldn’t bring myself to do so. She probably did not hear a thing in her current state.
“I thought turning would be inevitable for you,” I explained, “since you’re all too observant. Before long you would have noticed that the wrinkles on your face do not match mine, that I remained a frozen portrait on your wall while you would have to be repainted every now and again.”
I held her hand firmly, the weak pulse present, but only as a whisper in a loud room.
“I know now it was selfish to assume you would be one of us and be at peace with it. I am just relieved, callously so, that I wasn’t the one to do it. It wasn’t kind to you, to your humanity.”
She looked so peaceful. It broke my heart that she was most at ease when she was unable to bring herself to consciousness. It was like her own brain was cursed with burdens only she would know. It didn’t help that she kept them locked away tightly.
“I love you,” I told her. “I love you so dearly, and you may remain my only love, even if you don’t recognize it the way I do.”
I’d said enough. My heart was both heavy and light, burdened and free. Just letting the words escape me in some act of personal care fed my soul, for now. Like a curse breaking, I was at peace.
My confession remained as it always did, unrequited and unheard.
It was only just past noon. The entire day at this point felt like an uphill stroll. I thought switching into a different day dress would help. I had already worked up a cold sweat from the interactions I’d had thus far.
I just wanted to strip from my clothes and change the scenery.
“Phoebe.” A hand caught my arm. I nearly spun completely around.
“Children are told not to grab,” I scolded.
“Have you seen Silas?” Luka ignored my jab. “I haven’t seen him since last night. We have to prepare for the arraignment.”
“Am I my brother’s keeper?” I turned away.
Luka pulled my arm again. But instead of interrogating, he scrutinized me.
“What is it now?” I sighed. “I need to change my dress.”
“Are you well?” He looked over my face. “You look feverish.”
“Why do you care?” I scoffed.
“Is there a reason you’d think I wouldn’t?” He seemed genuine, but I didn’t trust it.