Jasmine had worked her magic, and I was back. I’d found my way into the cold shell that protected me and spent the last week cold, remote,unfeeling.
I was eternally relieved.
The messiness of life no longer affected me, and I trusted myselfnot to boil over with no provocation. Evenwithprovocation, it would take a lot for me to snap. I wasn’t just glacial; I was a continent of blizzards and perma-ice.
The moment my brothers, father, and I returned from the pheasant shoot, Nila had been sitting on the front terrace, sketching. She wore a long pale blue skirt with a slight train that rippled over the black tiles of the patio and a cream blouse with a ruffled collar and big buttons.
She’d looked content...centred.
The time apart had given us both much needed space, and the fiery emotion she’d conjured inside was a distant memory.
I didn’t even hate her. I didn’t have any drive to torment her, fuck her, or fight in any way. All emotions came from the same place.
That was what I’d forgotten.
Hate and love...they were the same thing. I’d tried to harness only one—hate. I tried to be my father’s son, full of mistrust for others, while asserting dominance and fear.
And I’d succeeded for a while.
But with hate comes passion—either for those I loathed or circumstances I couldn’t stand. Every spike of emotion permitted more awareness to steal my indifference and make me care.
Caring was my problem.
Caring was what got me into messes I couldn’t repair.
Caring was what would kill me in the end.
But that was fixed now.
Resting my head on Wings’ muscular neck, I breathed in the scent of equine and hay. “Suppose I better get it over with.”
Just the thought of confronting Nila made my skin prickle. I’d shown her too much, and now she thought she understood me. She wouldneverunderstand me.
Shit, I didn’t understand me.
Then again, there was nothing left to understand. It was all...gone.
Wings huffed, searching my pockets for more oats.
Another boom of a purple and yellow firework shook the stable walls. The dogs howled in the kennels across the courtyard. Seemed everyone was on edge tonight.
Giving the horse one last handful, I left the stables and made my way reluctantly toward the Hall.
* * * **
Nila’s black eyes found mine the moment I joined the milling men and families of Black Diamonds. Women weaved, giggling and tipsy with our own brew and vintage. No children ran around—they weren’t allowed on the estate—but the atmosphere of happiness scratched painful nails across my skin.
Nila never looked away as I was congratulated for being the winner at poker this afternoon and for losing the bet that I could catch more trout than my father.
It took ten minutes to cross the lawn with brothers detaining me and gossiping. Kes was in charge of the large bonfire roaring in the corner, burning off boughs and branches that had been trimmed from the forest closest to the house. Daniel—as was typical for my younger, psychotic brother—was nowhere to be seen. And Cut sat like a king on a throne, watching the staff set off dangerous fireworks.
The large box of pinwheels, squealers, and sunbursts waited to die in an extravagance of gunpowder and brilliance.
Stopping a few metres from Nila, I ignored her and watched the swarm of festivities. I hoped she would stay away.
But of course, that wish went unanswered.
“Hello,” Nila said, appearing by my side. She still wore the long skirt with blouse and large buttons. Her hair was down, thick and glossy, mirroring the flames from the bonfire. Her cheeks were flushed from being out in the sun all day, but her eyes were clear from intoxication.
