“No argument.” George should be solving world hunger or something, not helping us with our nefarious activities. The door clicks open.
Instead of heading to the study, we go up the staircase. Grace has a suite of rooms at the end of the hall. She and my dad have never shared a bedroom. He’s always kept her at arm’s length, and I know that’s because of Mom, and I can’t say I’d be any different if Claudia… but I still hate him for the way he treats her.
I push open her door slowly, not wanting to frighten her. “Grace?”
“Noah?” She throws down her novel and opens her arms. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
I throw myself at the bed, burrowing into the small of her neck and breathing in her scent – apples and fresh spring dew. My mother’s scent. They’re so alike, and yet so different. Grace kisses the top of my head. Her dark curls spill over my shoulders, and all at once I feel eight years old again, like I want to bury myself in her hair and never have to face my father’s indifference.
I pull back and study her face. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Improving every day. Don’t worry about me.” She coughs into her hand. I reach for a glass of water on the bedside cabinet and hand it to her. As I do, I notice an open box with little pills and capsules counted out for each day.She’s taking so many pills…
“Noah, please. I want to hear about school and your friends. You haven’t even told me about homecoming. Or Germany.”
Homecoming? I struggle to remember. It feels like a million years ago. I hate myself for avoiding her, but I figured with what we’d done to Dad it was probably for the best. Looking at her now, how pale and thin she is, I’m not so certain.
But at least I have something beautiful to talk about – I can give her the gift of seeing me smile, which has been too rare in our house. “I want you to meet my girlfriend.” I sweep my arm back to indicate Claudia cowering in the doorway.
Grace’s face shows no indication that she recognizes Claudia as the person Dad and I blamed for Felix’s death. She’s one classy lady. Claudia kneels beside her bed and slides the tulips onto her nightstand. Our flowers are dwarfed by several towers of fragrant blooms – the kind of flowers my dad has his secretary buy when he’s too busy.
But Grace leans over and sniffs our meager offering and smiles at me like I’m the only human in the universe.
“The truth is, I’m perfectly capable of getting out of this bed,” she smiles. “It’s your father fussing. He seems to believe I need more time before I’m ready to face the world.”
Claudia’s eyes meet mine across the bed. She feels guilty for doing this. I shake my head. I hated her at the time, not for what she wrote on my walls, but for how it affected Grace. But she did it because I was a shit, and she got her message across in that sledgehammer way she has. Grace would forgive Claudia in a heartbeat, and so would my mother. Maybe I’m more like them than I realize.
We sit with her for a time. Claudia talks mostly. I can’t find the words. She tells Grace about Germany and about homecoming. She even pulls out her phone and shows her pictures of me all dressed up. Grace’s eyes mist with tears.
“It’s good to see you smile,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say.
I glance at my phone. We should go. We’ve spent too long in this house already. I stand up. Grace’s fingers clench the fabric of my shirt. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Me too.” I kiss her one final time, then we leave, closing the door behind us.
We descend the staircase. Claudia looks like she wants to say something, like maybe ask how we managed to sneak up to Grace’s room and hang with her for over an hour without my dad even knowing we’re in the house. But she reads my expression and remains silent. Instead, she shifts her hand to the leather scabbard hanging from her belt and draws out her father’s sword.
She always knows exactly how to cheer me up.
As we emerge in the foyer, Dad crosses from the hallway toward the kitchen, his nose buried in a paper. He sees us out of the corner of his eye. His whole body goes rigid.
Good. You should be scared.This man all but killed my brother and my mother. His hired goons broke into Claudia’s house and hurt Queen Boudica, to protect his secret. The blood on his hands won’t wash away just because we granted clemency.
I hope he pisses himself again. That was fun.
“Son,” the senator nods, peering at us over his glasses. He tries to rearrange his face into a mask of dominance, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“We just stopped by to see Grace,” I say, although my lie is undermined by the sunlight glinting off Claudia’s blade.
Senator Marlowe stares me down with the same violent incredulity he uses on his political opponents. He doesn’t believe a word of my story. No sense in keeping up the pretense.
Claudia flips her hair and smiles her cold Mackenzie smile. It’s strange and a little impressive to see her flick that switch inside herself and becomes a perfect imitation of a girl she’s never met. “We should step into your office, Senator.”
He leads us into the study he keeps behind the morning room. It’s not as impressive as the receiving room – practically a mirror of Howard Malloy’s office with its shelves of leather books and grand oak desk. The thinking room of an important man, utterly devoid of personality or heart.
“You got this place bugged?” Claudia asks, inspecting the titles on his bookshelf. She strokes her finger along the blade.
