Still, he was made to be brilliant, as were his siblings, and now his eternal punishment was the Prodigy Ball. Octavius wasn’t sure if he could take another year of this, let alone a lifetime.
He wouldn’t survive it.
Once he made it to his private dressing room, Octavius was the perfect puppet. He stood still while the puppet master’s workers dressed him in the clothes chosen for him for the press conference: a dark sweater and slacks with green crocodile-leather loafers. He did not flinch when they stuck pins in him, gelled his hair down, or pressed products onto his face that would help conceal the dark circles under his eyes from many sleepless nights. Every imperfection was tucked away, confined. He was made to look alive and well, instead of like one of his father’s stuffed deer. But he was not well and had not been for a long while.
With every passing moment, Octavius could feel the monster inside begin to stir against the chains that held him. The monster that had been growing for years, roaring at this life he had been forced to live. He felt itchy all over, claustrophobic in his new skin. Trapped in this role of the dutiful heir for another night.
When he was finally allowed out of the dressing room, Octavius felt the urge to escape again, this time for good. He considered whether the consequences really mattered at all. Not when the consequence for compliance sometimes felt worse than disobeying his father’s orders.
Blood… so much blood…His conscience rattled away desperately inside of him.There was always so much more blood here…
Octavius did not want to exist like this forever, in this bloody nightmare that was his reality. He did not want to return to the Prodigy Ball next year or the year after that. He needed a way out, otherwise he was not sure what else he was capable of doing to himself… to others…
Somehow tonight had to be the end of this all.
He was done being a puppet.
Tonight, his strings were finally going to be cut loose.
1:07P.M.—THE BUTTON MANOR
No one had been looking for Romeo Button.
While the Manor’s staff rushed after his siblings, answering to their every whim, preparing them for the Prodigy Ball, Romeo had shaved, given himself a quick wolfish haircut in his bathroom mirror, dressed himself in the royal-blue tuxedo Henry had selected for him, and then been told (also by Henry) to wait in his room until someone called for him.
Romeo did not wait for the call.
Instead, he climbed out of his bedroom window and escaped into the gardens.
Once there, he checked in on the horses in the Manor’s stable, as he did most mornings, and then made his way to the kitchen to steal a few croissants from Mrs. Gray, the Manor’s head chef, trying—and failing—not to get any crumbs on his brand-new suit.
“You’re going to make yourself sick at the rate you’re going, Romeo,” Mrs. Gray had chastised as he’d shoveled down three pistachio croissants in one go.
“You underestimate me, Mrs. G,” Romeo had replied with a grin, his mouth still full of the nutty French pastry.
He tried swiping a fourth croissant, but Mrs. Gray had batted his hand away.
“As someone who has witnessedmanyof your tummy aches over the last decade and a half, I would disagree. Besides, these aren’t meant for you, these are for the journalists.”
Romeo could hear said journalists shuffling about beyond the kitchen. Their excited whispers had been floating through the halls all morning.
“Even those?” Romeo asked, gesturing to the small basket of assorted pastries on the kitchen counter next to Mrs. Gray.
“Those are for Evie. She’s home for a few short days.” Mrs. Gray smiled.
Romeo’s ears involuntarily perked up at the mention of the name.
Evie,Evelyn Gray. Mr. and Mrs. Gray’s only daughter.
Evie and her brother, Adam, had grown up next door to Romeo. Or as “next door” as the Manor allowed. They lived in the staff quarters, which was the large house next to the Manor where all the Manor’s employees lived. Evie and Adam were the only children. Mr. Gray was the head gardener and Mrs. Gray the head chef, and as Evie was around the same age, Romeo and his siblings had kind of grown up with her too.
“Evie’s here?” Romeo asked, trying to sound casual; but there was nothing remotely casual about anything Romeo did. He hadn’t seen Evie in almost three years. She’d moved to Europe after signing a very fancy contract with an Italian ballet company, and he’d not heard much since. She never even came home for holidays.
“Yes. It was a last-minute thing, really. She wasn’t sure if they’d let her have time off for the Thanksgiving weekend, but thankfully they did!” Mrs. Gray’s tone was full of pride, the way it was whenever she spoke of Evie. Romeo had always wondered what it must feel like to have your parents actually be proud of you. He guessed it must’ve felt nice.
“I remember how close you two were as kids. Used to take bubble baths together and everything,” Mrs. Gray continued with a laugh, and Romeo hoped that the heat creeping up his neck would not show up on his face.
“Uh, yeah, I suppose we were close back then,” Romeo said, clearing his throat.
