“Mr. Vincent, Ms. Emeline has arrived,” the attendant stated.
“And Mr. Collin?” my birth father drawled, not even acknowledging me.
“He has yet to arrive.” The man bowed. “I shall fetch Ms. Emeline a drink.”
“There’s no need, not until Mr. Collin arrives,” Vincent ordered as a way of dismissal, looking away from me to converse with Richard, who was almost his spitting image, except, like me, he had our birth mother’s deep brown hair. But his eyes were the same shade of deep brown as Vincent’s. More than that, he carried himself the same haughty way.
With my lens, I would assume we looked remarkably alike. Maybe that was why he couldn’t look at me. My heart quaked at the dismissal.
How bizarre it felt to share blood and features and yet be a complete stranger. To be hated in a way only strangers could.
“Do tell me, is this color in rebellion to your mating, or are you just partial to the color of trash?” Gregory taunted lazily. He was my mother’s spitting image, from the crystal blue eyes to the immaculate bone structure. He was handsome, almost beautiful. His hair color was the only link to our birth father—lighter than mine—and shaved brutally short. His full mouth smirked at me, his legs propped over the arm of the chair, his shirt unbuttoned at the top.
“I didn’t choose the dress,” I said quietly.
“Your Mate must have more of a sense of humor than I gave him credit for,” Gregory drawled, and his smile grew as he slyly glanced at Vincent, who watched me with satisfaction gleaming in his hateful eyes. “Did you know . . .” Gregory continued, swinging his feet off the arm of the chair and coming to stand, approaching me like he was cornering prey. Despite being ten years older than I was, he was tall and lean, a boyish charm about him. “. . . that I didn’t believe them when they told me the girl in the sheer white dress was my birth sister? That I had a sister?” He cocked his head to the side. The confirmation that he hadn’t known of my existence jarred me. My birth brothers had already been sent to the Elite Academy by the time I was born.
Shock radiated through me as he pulled my hand up to his mouth, quickly pecking it. He was greeting me, even in blue. He smirked as he held my hand tighter, pulling me closer. “Tell me, dear sister. What horrors are you hiding beneath?”
I recoiled, my hand still in his grasp. He didn’t know about my eyes. He greeted me to taunt me. An emptiness settled deep, deep in my chest.
“Gregory,” Vincent thundered, “do not entertain her.”
Gregory let go of my hand, glancing over his shoulder at our birth father. He shot me a quick wink before retrieving his drink and downing it in one gulp.
“How much longer are we to wait for Collin?” Vincent inquired impatiently.
They did not know. My pulse turned unruly. I was going to have to tell them he wasn’t coming. Instead of an Illum, they got me. A Minor in blue. The daughter they hadn’t bothered to know or even discuss.
I hesitated, catching my lip between my teeth. Richard watched me as Gregory’s light blue eyes caught mine. He smiled like he was about to receive a treat.
“My Mate had something come up. He can’t join us.”
There was a terrible pause. Vincent glared at me before walking from the room without a word. Richard followed, muttering under his breath. A click made me jump as Gregory opened a hidden cabinet and refilled his glass, draining it in one go before refilling it. He walked over to me, shoving the glass into my hand.
“Best to drink it quickly,” Gregory suggested, and I hesitated. “Trust me, you’ll need it. The only way to get through these family dinners is a stiff drink.”
I lifted the glass to my lips. The contents had a strong aroma that was smoky and slightly off-putting. Gregory tipped it back for me, leaving me no choice but to drink it all. I lowered the glass, sputtering, my insides on fire.
“Whatisthat?” I rasped, massaging my metal-clad throat.
“Does it matter?” Gregory mocked, replenishing the glass again. “It’s a wonderful thing called alcohol. It befuddles the mind.”
“Gregory,” a clipped voice reprimanded. “What are you doing?” My youngest brother, Phillip, stood in the doorway, glowering.
Gregory shrugged in false innocence and fell back into his chair. “Baby brother, how splendid of you to join us. Do tell us how things fare at the Capitol. Have you kissed enough asses to be an Illum yet? Sold your soul?”
Phillip ignored him. He was only slightly taller than I was. He was an odd combination of our birth parents; he had curls like mine, but they were light like our birth father’s. He had our birth mother’s face, making him classically beautiful like Gregory. His crystal blue eyes assessed me, but not in the poisonous way that Richard’s had. He looked at me like you would a puzzle, evaluating the pieces. He shook his curls out of his face and grasped my hand quickly before releasing it.
“Collin sends his regards. Things are busy right now,” Phillip told me tightly.
“You work with him, right?” I asked. I had nearly forgotten in the chaos of the last few days.
“I—” Phillip began, but Gregory cut him off.
“He does. Phillip, our little pride and joy, trying to be just like his dear friend Collin. Rejecting mating contracts, leaving all the mothers distraught, all to sell himself to the Illum like a pet.”
“You’re always such a pleasure after a couple of drinks, Gregory,” Phillip commented dryly.
