And just like that, the lighthearted conversation ends.
With widening eyes, Caz blanches as the realization hits him. He tries saving himself from the slip, but the girls are too clever, too astute to let a simple implication like that go unnoticed.
Even Rhain is sober enough to catch it. "What do you mean? Who won't be participating in the Hunt this year? It's tradition."
Ursulette groans. "Oh, do you even need to ask?"
But no one is nearly as irritated by the news as Renee. Hergaze burns into me like a midsummer wildfire. "What does Cazimir mean? Why won't you be participating in the Hunt this year?"
I don't answer her. I can't.
The truth is something that must be kept secret, even with their suspicions aroused, it’ll surely make pulling off what I need to do tomorrow morning all the more difficult. Now all of my closest friends will be on their guard, suspicious and waiting.
"For all that is wicked in the realm, haven't we been through this already, Malachi?" Only Ursulette, niece to a king and daughter to a disgraced but historical hero, could roll her eyes with such entitlement and aristocracy. "Yes, it's an unnecessarily extravagant event that serves no real purpose but to entertain the elite and the bored. But you're theprince. You're expected to be there, regardless of how you feel about it."
Audibly, I groan, plopping back down to the leather armchair and sinking into the deflated cushion. She sounds like my father, but maybe with a little more care in her tone.
I bury my face into my hands and try to conjure up some acceptable excuse. But she’s right. Wehavebeen through this before, and she's already succeeded in persuading me in the past. In fact, it's why I'm even here this year. For a long time, I refused to show my support. But Ursulette reminded me that when the noctis don't have their entertainment, their killings become sloppy. Reckless. Senseless. It's why we have such an infestation of the ghouls now. They bite just to feel powerful. The Hunt gives them purpose.
The official start tomorrow morning will be the best time to free my nephews and aunt. Only Caz is aware of those plans, and only vaguely since we haven’t had a chance to truly discuss it. I didn't want him involved, but more importantly, I want the rest of my friends to remain completely oblivious. It’s the only way to protect them from my father’s wrath.
Whatever false reason I conjure will have to be ironclad.
The sheepish grin Caz wears only partially exonerates him from my wrath, and only because it reminds me of how frequently he mucks things up and therefore how little faith people are willing to give him.
Andthatgives me a way out of this mess.
"For the hundredth time, Cazimir," I groan, fingers still rubbing my temples. "I said I would be arriving late, not that I wasn't coming at all." I peer up from where I'm stooped. Only Rhain's suspicion seems to be put at ease by my lie, so I go on. "Look, Tor thought it was about time I assisted with the logistics of the Hunt. I'll be transporting prisoners from their cells to the Shadowthorn all morning, until the horns sound."
"And then?" There's a bite in Renee's tone that suggests she's still far from convinced. "I highly doubt that there'sa task your father wants you completing that is more important to him than making the first kill and proving yourself worthy of the crown."
"That's not—" Irritation bubbles up in me like the once boiling, caustic waters of the Pits of Bagamore. This event, thisHunt, isn't even as important as anyone makes it out to be. Making the first kill doesn't mark the future king, only the king does that. And my claim to the throne has never been contingent upon whether I make the first kill or not. My father has no qualms with nepotism. He just wants me to work for it. To earn my allegiance and devotion.
Unfortunately for him, I will remain to be a disappointment.
But if I am to be convincing and assuage their lingering suspicions, I have to remain focused.
"And then—" I finally answer, focusing on Renee's former question, instead of her latter points "—I'm assisting with readying this place for the concluding events. Once they've made their kill, the noctis will need a place to stay while they await the rest of the Hunt to conclude. They'll likely prefer it if the castle was primed and ready for them."
"That's what you have servants for." Renee’s wit is sharp, but her tongue sharper. "What do you take us for? Fools? You can't expect us to believe that he has you on clean-up duty like some common-street peasant?"
It's a blessing that everyone's eyes are on me and not Caz, for his demeanor is wound tightly, the guilt he feels for causing all of this seeming like it’s about to eat clean through him, digest his skin and bones, and leave him a liquified puddle on the ancient rug.
Without seeming too obvious, I try to tell him with nothing more than the briefest glance that everything will be alright, that I have this under control.
"No, not clean-up duty. I'll be directing the grounds staff this year. I'll be orchestrating the post-Hunt festivities and entertainment. Blood and booze and debauchery. I'll be responsible for ensuring that everyone is safe, comfortable, and well-fed."
The shield of skepticism thatRenee’s wielding is tough to crack, and always has been, but I can see her starting to lower it.
Not quickly enough though.
The longer they ponder whether I'm telling the truth, the less likely they will be to believe the lies I feed them. And Ineedthem to believe. I can’t have any of them caught up in what transpires tomorrow.
There is one strategy I've seen my father use with her that has worked in the past when he hasn't wanted to budge. It makes her feel small, worthless. It reminds her that he is powerful and all-knowing—at least in his mind—and that she will never measure up to him.
I hate myself for even considering using it. But right now I'm desperate.
I muster a saccharine tone that churns even my own stomach and paint a smile across my face like a thin, poisonous spiderweb.
