I listened as Milo heard their grievances, nodding along intently and asking poignant questions from time to time. Like he actually cared. Maybe he did.
I found myself watching my cousin more than his guests after a while. I’d spent so long competing with him for the position he now held I’d never really taken the time to consider what kindof leader either of us would be. But as I watched him listen to the complaints of the lower ringers and validate them by offering thoughtful solutions, I admitted it to myself for the first time. Grandmother might have chosen the right Heir. Maybe Milo was serious. Maybe he actually did want to make a difference. Maybe he would.
I wouldn’t have.
They talked until late into the evening, the older brother and the acolyte exchanging excruciating heartsick glances from time to time that were really testing the limits of my patience. Finally, once almost nothing had been decided or determined other than they would try to keep an open mind about us here in House Avus, the Bexleys rose and made their way to the door of the study, exiting out the front in a newfound show of Milo’s sudden hospitality.
Bria went with them, head bowed with the oldest brother in low conversation. The middle one and his wife seemed just as distracted. I followed after them, reaching out for Harrison’s arm before they got too far down the hall. He turned to face me with a frown.
“I couldn’t tell you who I was,” I tried to explain.
“Why did you really break into my apartment that night?” he asked. “You didn’t come to warn me about the Bexleys. So why were you there?”
I took a breath. I’d known this was coming. I’d expected he would come around to it eventually but now, with him looking at me the way he was, the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in my throat and suffocated me while he swallowed hard and shook his head slowly. I shouldn’t care. I didn’t even know him. I lied to everyone around me all the time and never thought twice about it. But I’d chased him down after that dinner and I couldn’t even say why. Somehow, the look he gave me now carved out a piece of my withered heart and made it beat again.
“Adrian and I weren’t friends,” I told him. “I hated her.”
I didn’t sugar coat it and I didn’t lie. I wanted it to hurt bad enough that he would leave here and never see me again. I needed him to hate me enough to keep his distance so I wouldn’t feel this way anymore. Something was stirring within me, a warmth spreading into a place long gone dark and cold, and I hated it. I wanted it gone as badly as I wanted him out of my sight.
“She swooped in overnight and took everything I’d worked for my entire life,” I told him, letting a bit of the remaining fury seep into my words as I spoke. I found that wound upon my soul and cut it open again. I let it bleed into my chest until he could see it on my face. I saw the shock in his expression, the horror and disgust building there. He was down. I just needed to keep kicking him. “Dante was mine. Champion status was mine. All of it was mine andshetook it. I didn’t even know who she was before, none of us did, but the second the Geist paired her with him she became the center of the universe. Cosmo negotiated with her, Myrine cherished her, Milo befriended her, even my own grandmother sought her out for company. They forgot about me. They moved on. They didn’t need me anymore, or even want me around. So I tried to kill her.”
Harrison’s eyes blew wide and, as much as that surprise drove a knife straight through that ever widening wound within my soul, I continued on.
“Everyone thinks it was about Dante but she took far more from me than that,” I ground out, fists clenching at my sides.
Harrison stumbled back a step and that warmth inside of me was gone, dissipated entirely amidst the shattered pieces of my twisted heart. I felt nothing for this Third Ring boy I didn’t even know and I never had. It was foolish of me to ever have even entertained the possibility of it. He would flee from me now, run far away back to his rundown apartment he used to sharewith her, and he would never call me beautiful again because he understood now how truly ugly I was at my core.
“You think she wanted it?” he asked after a moment, his voice quiet but firm. “You say she took everything from you. Do you think she even wanted it? Do you think she ever asked for it? All of you up here on the First think we want to be you. You think we’re jealous of how you spend your time killing yourselves with training, ripping out each other’s throats, and playing your little games. We don’t have a lot down on the Third. No fancy wine or silk or half a dozen courses at every meal. But we have each other. We have a community down there, a ring full of people who give a shit about one another. When Noah broke my coffee table after practice one night, Maurice came down from the Second to fix it without me having to ask. When Warren and Dahlia got married and had to keep it a secret because of the Tribunal, little gifts started showing up at their door late at night; hand sewn aprons, hammered silverware, cracked plates, things Third Ringers give newlyweds. Can you honestly say anyone on your Ring would lift a finger to help you if you needed it?”
I frowned, blinking back at him and trying in vain not to allow his accusations to affect me. But Harrison wouldn’t allow my ignorance. He stepped forward, crowding into my space, and looked down into my eyes until I was forced to look up at him.
“Everyone needs help,” he said. “Even you. I know you can’t accept that. I know it’s been bred into you not to show any sign of weakness. But someday, you’ll need help too. And when you do, Olympia, will anyone be there?”
No.
The answer came to me so suddenly I thought it was Luca’s voice within my mind once more. But it wasn’t. That truth had come from within me.
I rallied as quickly as I could but, by the time I was able to speak again, Harrison was gone. He’d turned and strode off down the hall in search of the Bexleys and was probably halfway through the House by now.
My family would see them. Aunts, Uncles, and cousins would stare as they passed. Milo would send word within the hour that the Bexleys were welcome in our home and that news would implode in the family gossip circles, but the order would stand. Unless Nascha herself revoked their access, the Heir’s word was law. So our halls were to be plagued by lower ringers for the foreseeable future. I could only hope I’d done enough to dissuade Harrison from being among them.
“Olympia,” Milo’s voice spoke from behind me and I took a moment to gather myself before turning to face him.
He stood in the threshold of his study, watching me where I stood in the dark hall. His expression was impassive but his head was cocked slightly to the side the way it always was when he’d found something of interest to study. It made me wonder just how much of my conversation with Harrison he’d overheard and if my mask had slipped to allow him any clue toward the emotions whirling within me.
“Come,” he said when I didn’t move. “I wanted to show you what grandmother has given me.”
It took me a moment to remember his vow to tell me about the task our grandmother had set for him after I’d told him mine earlier. Curiosity piqued, I did what I could to erase the previous conversation with Harrison from my mind as I headed back into the office with Milo who shut the door behind us. I waited, standing in front of his desk, as he crossed the room to settle in behind it. He opened the top drawer, retrieved an old leather bound book from within it, set it on the desk between us, and looked up.
“As you know, there’s much that grandmother doesn’t tell us,” he began and I nodded my agreement. “I think this task she’s set for me is a part of that. I can’t help but think her instructions are intentionally vague because she knows something she isn’t willing to tell me until I uncover it myself.”
My brow furrowed as he flipped the book open and spun it around to face me. My eyes scanned the top of the page as he slid it toward me.
“This journal belonged to one of our ancestors five hundred years ago,” he said. “His name was Eximius, though his family lovingly referred to him as Simi. He was a fine leader, a devout supporter of the priesthood, and a calm presence on the Tribunal. He was well liked, even among the lower ringers, until around the middle of his life when he lost his mind overnight.”
My eyes snapped up to find him watching me.
“No one knows what happened to him,” Milo said, “and it’s widely believed somethingdidhappen to him. I have this diary of his which he only began keeping after the madness took him as well as some accounts from close family members including his son, Atticus. I also have the House books and reports from the time, but no one ever knew what happened that night. One evening he was going about his business, having dinner with his family, talking and laughing and retiring to his study. The next morning he was a mindless fool, sputtering and incoherent. They found him here, in this very room, pale and incomprehensible. Once a brilliant mind, he was reduced to insane ramblings which he wrote down in that journal and that’s all we have left of him. I’m sure there were other journals he kept prior to the madness. It’s common practice for Patriarchs and Matriarchs of the Major Houses to keep their own record of the events of their reign. We have dozens of such diaries in the library, but not his. There isn’t a scrap of paper written in his own hand prior to this journal.”
