Chapter 9
CIARAN
Dad calls at seven in the morning, which is unusual, even for him. He isn't much of a morning person.
Neither am I.
I roll onto my side, drag the multi-slate off the nightstand, and answer with my face still half buried in the pillow. "What?"
"Good morning to you too."
I rub a hand over my face and blink at the gray wash of light coming through the curtains.
My jacket is still hanging over the chair from last night, boots abandoned by the bed where I kicked them off when I got back too late from the Black Chapel.
A pathetic vice, maybe, but I walked out with enough cash in my pocket to feel morally flexible about it.
"What time is it?"
"Seven."
I groan and shove a hand through my hair. "That's cruel. You were young once."
Dad chuckles. "Yes, and I got up when my father called me."
"Because you were afraid of him."
"Because it was easier than arguing with him."
"Yeah, that sounds like him."
Grandpa was the kind of man you didn't want to get in trouble with. His worst mistake was dying.
I sit up slowly, sheet falling to my waist, and reach for the water glass beside the bed. "So what's up? Why are you calling this early?"
His chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh. "Your mother and I just landed from Helion."
I take a drink. "At this hour?"
"At this hour. And since your mother spent most of the flight talking about next week's reception, I figured you could suffer with me."
"I hate this family."
He chuckles. "No, you don't. Besides, I thought you'd like to know one of the Marrows confirmed."
"Seriously?"
Okay, now I'm awake.
I cross to the window and pull the curtain back. Early sunlight catches on the gardens below, and I gaze down to catch a few students already crossing the stone paths toward the main buildings.
"Seriously," Dad deadpans. "It surprised me too. Between Lucian, his wife, and half the cousins, the family seems determined to stay visible."
"Yeah, well, you still have to admire their pride."
"And who knows? We might even meet them during the event."
A smile pulls at my mouth as I push away from the window and head back toward the chair.
"Anyway, Halvern's organized for your mother to perform that night."
"Hm." Not sure how I feel about Mom performing in front of the entire Reach delegation, but hey…
I grab the black uniform trousers draped over the chair, pull them on, and tuck in my shirt.
"Rowan will be performing too," Dad continues.
Now that makes me pause. "Rowan?"
"Halvern added him to the program yesterday. Upon my request."
He's silent for a beat, and I brace for what comes next.
"You didn't report anything about him."
I flick on the bathroom light and glare at myself in the mirror. "You guys were on holiday."
Dad chuckles. "Holiday? Well, I suppose you're right. We did have a good time. But I'm going to need some more information on the boy."
I brace one hand on the sink, splash cold water over my face, and brush my teeth while I listen to him talk.
"Halvern wants him visible."
That has me lowering the towel slowly. "That's unusual, isn't it?"
"You tell me. How's he doing? Anything suspicious to report yet?"
I toss the towel aside and reach for the tie hanging off the hook. "So far? Nothing worth reporting."
Outside of the fact that he was in the library after hours. Or the fact that he's been slipping into the pool after it closes, all pale skin and wet hair and those quiet little sounds he makes when he thinks nobody's listening.
Dad hums. "With the reception coming up next week, I need you keeping him in sight."
"You think he's dangerous?"
Dad chuckles. "No. I think people around him might be."
"Of course. That can be arranged," I drawl, sliding the tie under my collar and knotting it. "Especially when he thinks he's alone."
"I'm serious, Ciaran."
"So am I."
"We can't afford to miss what's already in front of us. If the answers are sitting at Caervast, I want them before that room fills next week."
"I understand," I say, though I'm not sure I do.
I mean, fuck me, I'm already picturing Rowan standing behind the Noctis, his stiff posture all proud and distant, those green eyes fixed on nothing I can touch the second he starts to play.
I can't ignore that the guy's gifted. Mom will be thrilled to have him beside her on the Noctis.
"I'll come by for dinner sometime, okay?"
"Your mother already informed me you're coming this week."
I laugh. "And what did you say?"
"The same thing I always say whenever your mother decides something for the entire family."
I grab my jacket off the chair, smiling despite myself. "Which is?"
Dad sighs, long-suffering. "Yes, dear."
"Coward."
"Survivor. Let me know which night, and I'll make sure your aunts don't turn it into a committee meeting."
By the time I tug the knot into place, the uniform has done what it always does, turning me into the version of myself Caervast expects to see.
Dark jacket fitted close through the shoulders, white shirt crisp against my skin, collar opened just enough to look careless when it isn't, tie loosened a fraction on purpose.
The ink at my wrist shows before I smooth the cuff over it and reach for my signet.
"All right, that's enough. Have a good day, son."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Go to class, Ciaran."
The line goes dead.
He might be my dad, but fuck, sometimes he really is a motherfucker.
Still, he's got me standing there staring at my multi-slate, dressed and ready for class, because now I've got the cleanest excuse I've had yet to keep an eye on Rowan without pretending it's personal.
Which, obviously, is funny as hell.
Because it is personal.
It was personal the first time he looked at me like I was something he should avoid and then kept looking anyway.
It was personal in the library. And it was personal every time he disappeared when he shouldn't have, slipped out of sight, made me follow the shape of him through halls and shadows and locked doors like I was the one being led around by a leash I never agreed to wear.
My thumb moves before I even think about it, opening the thread like there was ever a chance I wouldn't.
The last thing on the screen is still mine.
i asked you a question, rowan
He never replied.
And that should annoy me more than it does. Instead, I can practically see him staring at the screen with that tight mouth of his, refusing to answer because he knows the second he does, I'll be there again.
And that has a slow grin pulling at my mouth.
Because Dad wants eyes on him. Dad wants updates. Dad wants me close enough to catch anything before that room fills next week.
And because I always get whatever the fuck I want. Whoever the fuck I want.
So if I happen to enjoy that assignment a little too much, if the idea of keeping Rowan exactly where I can see him is enough to leave me hard before I've even left my room, that's not really my problem, is it?
My thumb hovers over the thread again, tempted to send another message just to annoy him into answering.
Silence from Rowan is somehow worse than him telling me to go fuck myself. And whatever the hell he was doing that night mattered enough for him to keep his mouth shut.
Halvern wants him visible.
That thought settles somewhere uncomfortable. If Rowan is just a scholarship student, nobody should care where he is. Nobody should care what he knows. And nobody should be putting him on a stage in front of half the Reach.
My gaze drops back to the unanswered message. For the first time, I find myself wondering whether I'm the only person paying attention to him.
I should probably take Dad's order the way he meant it, keep my distance, keep it clean, watch from the edges, use my head.
Instead, I'm already picturing Rowan at the pool again, all that pretty control straining under the surface while he looked at me like I was the worst thing that's happened to him all week.
My grip tightens around the slate.
Yeah. I can work with that.
"Ciaran," Lucan calls from the kitchen downstairs. "You alive?"
"Yeah."
I lock the screen, tug my sleeve down over my wrist, and head for the stairs.
Lucan is already sitting at the kitchen bar, uniform half on like he got dressed by spite alone. Marius is beside him, tie still untied, one shoulder against the wall, looking annoyingly awake for this hour.
"Good morning." Mariette smiles as she wipes down the stove. "Want some pancakes? I made fresh ones."
I reach over, grab a plate, and help myself, drowning them in maple syrup. "Thanks, doll."
"Did any of you get the wake-up call?"
"Yup." Lucan doesn't look up from his multi-slate. "Mom called about that reception next week."
"Same here."
I lean against the counter and cut into the pancakes. "Dad called at seven. Apparently we're all getting drafted into family service before breakfast."
"Fuck me."
Marius finally looks up from his slate. "Watch the room. Pay attention. Try not to embarrass the bloodline."
"That last part was just for you," I tell Lucan.
"It usually is."
I snort, take another bite, then reach for my coffee. "Well, enjoy your suffering, boys. I'm off."
Lucan lifts his mug in a mock salute. "Try not to start any problems before noon."
"No promises."
The day does its best to become normal after that, which is adorable considering how badly it fails.
I spot Halvern once after lunch, surrounded by academy board members and looking far too satisfied with himself. When his gaze catches mine, I find myself wondering whether he's watching Rowan too.
By evening, I'm too restless for my room, too awake to sit through another lecture file, and too irritated by the fact that Rowan has managed to stay out of sight since morning.
So I go to the pool.
Not because I feel like swimming, and not because I need the water, but because Rowan ignored my message and I've been thinking about him all day, which means I'm in exactly the right mood to go make that his problem.