I placed my unsteady hands against his chest, pushing him backward, but not before feeling the muscles hidden under his sweatshirt.
I scribbled down my phone number on a piece of paper. “Text me the details about the book.” I shoved the crumpled paper into his hand before sprinting out of the library.
Family dinners were planned weeks, if not months, in advance—not with just a few hours’ notice. Traditionally, each founding family hosted one dinner a year when we were younger, but as time passed, they were only held for important matters. The important matter for this meeting was someone freeing a demon from the Whitethorn’s basement.
My phone buzzed, andThe Council Meeting, our group chat, illuminated the screen.
Kenna: Family dinner, my house at 7. Eli, if you miss this dinner, your dad will skin you alive.
No one replied, but we’d all be there. Attendance was mandatory. Except for Dad, who wouldn’t be making an appearance tonight.
Kenna was already dressed and waiting for me in the living room. She looked much better than when I left.
“Do you know what this is about?” I pressed, hoping to get any information to ease the knot in my stomach.
“No clue, but Dad sounded like it was an urgent matter.”
I nodded, my nerves building. I slid into a horrible mustard yellow cocktail dress, wiping my sweaty palms on the stiff fabric. The dress was both hideous and uncomfortable, but it was the only option that wasn’t too short or too tight. I pulled my hair into a slick back bun and wiggled my toes into a pair of nude open-toe heels.
“Alrighty, I’m ready.” I swiped my car keys off the counter and followed Kenna out the door, locking it behind us.
Luckily, there was no traffic. Silence filled the car. Only an occasional sniffle or cough came from Kenna, who was slumped over in the passenger seat.
My mind reeled, thinking of every single possible explanation for why this dinner had been called. By the time I pulled into the Whitethorn’s driveway, I’d played out every possible scenario in my head. And I hadn’t come up with any more pressing issue than a demon loose in Twisted Spires.
A few cars were parked in the driveway, but Cal’s jeep was nowhere in sight. That wasn’t surprising, considering the drive from Northern Virginia University took at least an hour, and nearly double that if I was behind the wheel.
The rest of the Abbot family had already arrived. Cal’s mother and little sister sat in the living room, conversing with Emory as the men stood by the bar discussing business. Each was dressed in a tailored suit with natural lines and sharp creases.
“Kenna. Lyra.” Cal’s mom, Florence, waved us over to the couch. “How are you girls?”
I claimed the seat next to her, completely avoiding eye contact with Mr. Whitethorn. Kenna sat alone on the loveseat, keeping a safe distance. I shifted from side to side, trying to find a comfortable sitting position, and failed.
“Not too great.” Kenna coughed into the crook of her elbow.
“Drink some tea, darling.” Mrs. Abbot poured us each a cup.
I added an extra spoonful of sugar, stirring it around until it dissolved.
I peeked over the rim of my teacup, catching a glimpse of Mr. Hale, Eli’s father, standing rigidly, his posture eerily similar to the one Eli often mimicked. I would never tell Eli that because his biggest fear was becoming just like his father. The Hale family had plenty of secrets of their own. Eli’s mother had left when he was only six, tearing apart his family. Their split had tainted the Hale name, and in a world like ours, where reputation was everything, that was a stain that could never be washed away.
“You look more like your mother every day,” Mrs. Abbot said, stirring her tea.
Kenna’s body shuddered, rocking back and forth on the couch as she tried to suppress a cough.
“Thank you.” I couldn’t help but smile. My mom and Mrs. Abbot were extremely close before she passed away, and I loved that she was one of the few people who still talked about her.
I took a cautious sip of my tea, testing the temperature so I wouldn’t burn my tongue. My gaze stayed fixed straight ahead, too afraid to look in Mr. Whitethorn’s direction. A picture of Kenna and her mom hung lopsided on the wall. It was an old photo, taken before Mrs. Whitethorn passed away from heart failure when we were in high school.
“It’s about damn time,” Mr. Hale said icily when Eli and Cal finally arrived, checking the time on his diamond-encrusted Rolex. Eli stiffened at his father’s harsh words, but Mr. Abbotignored the tension seeping through the room and pulled Cal in for a giant hug. He stepped back, inspecting his son, and a genuine smile broke across his handsome face. He patted Eli on the shoulder, respecting his personal space.
“Good, everyone’s here.” Mr. Whitethorn’s tone gave nothing away. I forced myself to meet his stare so he wouldn’t think I had anything to hide. Relief flooded my system because he wasn’t staring at me but at Kenna.
We were all ushered into the dining room and took our usual seats around a large table that looked like it should be surrounded by knights, not dinner guests. Emory sat to my left and Eli to my right, while Cal sat across the table with his family.
Plates piled high with salad were already set before us. My fork shook in my hand as I tried to stab a few rogue pieces of lettuce drenched in a champagne vinaigrette. Beneath the table, Eli’s knee bounced hard enough to shake my chair. The room buzzed with nervous energy, and I was glad I wasn’t the only one who felt it.
Plates of braised beef, vegetables, and mashed potatoes replaced the salads. I stared at the food, unable to stomach eating. I pretended to busy myself by pushing the peas and caramelized carrots around my plate.
