Next to her, Orok gives me a quickdon’t antagonize herlook, but Ghorza finds fault in me no matter what. It’s fun to poke her.
She must be at least sort of used to me, which is nice after knowing her for almost twenty years, because she recovers and says only, “That isn’t funny.”
I grin. “It’s a little funny.”
Mom scrubs the counter like cleaning will purge her of her snarky child. She’s got two other sponges going under animation spells, but she tsks and holds up her own sponge. “This is falling apart, sweetheart. What happened to the birthday gift card I gave you to Bards, Blessings, and Beyond? Cleaning supplies are in thebeyondpart of that. Your sister promised they don’t just sell spell components.”
No one reacts; she doesn’t expect anyone to.
Ghorza straightens, her chin jutting out. “I’ve been praying for you, Sebastian.”
I count it as a mark of growth that I don’t laugh.
“Thank you, Mrs. Monroe.” I rewet my sponge in the sink. “I appreciate that.”
“And how has your schedule been?” Ghorza continues, now idly flipping through the mail. “Do you often go out with Orok on the weekends?”
I pause, sponge soggy in my fingers.
This feels like a trap.
Ghorza pins her eyes on me with all the intensity of a government interrogator. “You do, don’t you? If Orok was going out on his own, to parties ofhischoosing, I know he’d be spending far more time around people who encourage his natural strength. He hasn’t challenged anyone to a fight inmore than a year.”
Orok, who’d taken to propping the holiday cards on the dining room table, startles and knocks them over. “I don’thaveto fight people. That’s not one of Urzoth’s commandments.”
Ghorza smiles sweetly at him. “I know it isn’t, honey, but where is your aggression? Yourpassion? You’ve been more and more timid each time I speak with you.”
Orok snaps his mouth shut. “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong withnothitting people.”
“You don’t challenge anyone. You aren’t sending holiday cards honoring Urzoth. What are you doing to uphold the teachings we instilled in you?”
“We graduate soon. I’ve been focusing on that.”
“In strength lies power. I’m worried, Orok.” Ghorza faces me again, scowling instantly. “And we all know who’s to blame for encouraging you to not uphold our values.”
I’m used to Orok’s family—and, all right, my family—using me as a punching bag for bad behavior. And I’m ordinarily fine with it; I’m an easy target, and it lets Orok keep his relationship with his parents more or less copacetic.
But I flinch now. And I’m not immediately sure why.
“Sweetheart,” Mom says. “Your sponge is dripping on the floor.”
Dumbly, I plop it into the sink.
She and Ghorza probably talked about this all the way up here.Poor Orok, Sebastian’s got his claws in him.
“I haven’t been encouraging him one way or another, Mrs. Monroe.” I step out of the kitchen. “There’s nothing—”
“Exactly.” Ghorza stabs her finger at me. “Innotencouraging him to follow Urzoth’s path, you have led him astray, and I amsickof your negative influence on him.”
“Woah!” Orok lurches between me and his mom.
Again, I’m used to this. After the shit I dragged Orok into when we were younger, it’s a wonder Ghorza didn’t cut off contact between us. I take her scorn and her ridicule, and I take my mom’s, too, because it’s valid; plus, they’ll go back home soon, and it’s easier to endure it than try to convince them I’ve changed.
Because… maybe I haven’t.
Maybe there’s still a part of me that’ll have Orok bailing me out of jail again. Or worse.
I have a number of dismissive smiles on hand. I have scripts prepared to brush off judgment.
