"You're wasting your time, Cazimir.” I knead at the dull ache at the back of my skull. “I'm fine. I just have no interest in going down there.”
“Why not?”
“I just want to be alone.”
“Bullshit. You’re lying.” He strides toward me so fast that I jolt where I stand, his eyes searching mine with scary determination. “What’s got you so freaked out that you’d rather stay in this depressing ass room than come be among friends?”
Finally, I can hold back no longer.
“Because I just can’t!”
My voice booms, startling him into silence. But it’s not out of fear that he falls quiet. No, there’s a knowing in his eyes as he’s beginning to understand, or perhaps admit to himself what he might’ve already suspected.
“Soon?” he asks.
My throat doesn’t feel strong enough to speak, so I merely nod.
“What’s the—"
Someone groans from the doorway, cutting him off before he can finish his question, and a woman enters my room. A waterfall of white hair flows around her face and down past her shoulders.
Ursulette plants one hand on the curve of her hip and watches us with an air of disapproval that must be a perfected Devonshire trait."You're still up here, Caz? How long does it take to convince someone to join their friends for a drink?"
“Not all of us have your womanly wiles,” he says, falling back into his casual, boyishly amused demeanor so easily that I almost question whether the past few moments even occurred.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "You’ve got that right."
Unlike my brother, it takes me longer to transition. “So, Ursulette, uh. What brings you here?"
"Did you not just hear me? We’ve been expecting your company.”
“Like I told Caz, not tonight.”
“Or last night, or the night before.” She counts the days on her fingers. “So tell me, if not tonight, then when? Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not racing down there after what Caz had to tell you about your father—"
That catches my attention. “What about my father?”
“He didn’t tell you?” Ursulette's silver eyes stray from me to Caz, pinning him in place. He shrugs, warranting an irritated huff from her. "Your father's been looking for you. He stopped by the lounge not too long ago and…someone told him you’d be up here."
"She conveniently left out who," Caz interjects.
Ursulette silences him with a glare. "Fine. It was Rhain. But he is rather...inebriated. He wasn't thinking clearly."
"When isn't he inebriated," Caz adds. "Or thinking."
Unamused, Ursulette returns her focus to me. "The point is, you can remain up doing whatever it is that you’re doing and await your father's imminent arrival, or you can come down to the lounge for a drink and…berate my lover for being a drunken buffoon."
Even on a normal night when I don’t have a legitimate reason to avoid my father, they know I’d do just about anything to avoid being subjected to his presence.
It’s no choice at all, and they both know it.
Besides, it’s not as if I didn’t want to see my friends before the Hunt begins tomorrow anyway, before my life changes forever.
I decide it’s time for me to make the most of the evening.
Snatching Caz’s goblet from him and handing him my empty one, I chug the contents in one gulp and flash them a smile that’s all teeth. "Berating Rhain? Now, that seems like a good time."
We leave my bedchamber, taking a less-traveled route to the lounge in an effort to avoid bumping into my father. Thankfully, our efforts are rewarded, and we make it to the lounge a few stories below without so much as catching a whiff of him.
