I’m glad to see Ludo standing a dozen feet behind Theodora, his eyes darting around the room, looking for trouble.
Scanning the crowd, I find my sister. She’s standing near the edge of the fountain, looking small and fragile in a white dress that seems to swallow her whole. It’s almost a gown for a little child, with a pearl-encrusted sash around the middle that’s tied in a bow at the back. Her eyes are wide with a fear I don’t understand.
Not yet.
The music swells, then dies away into an eager silence. My father and Alistair step onto the dais and signal for Jordan and I take a seat on our golden ‘thrones’.
Gods, this is it. The blessing.
Alistair speaks first. His voice is deep and commands the room.
He talks of legacy, of the strength of the Elite, and the ‘blessing’ of the union between our houses. It’s the usual drivel, a gilded lie for the masses to swallow. Jordan preens beside me, tilting her head to catch the light, playing the part of the perfect, vapid Barbie-bride.
Then my father steps forward and a shiver runs up my spine.
“Tonight is about more than just the union of Cosmo and Jordan,” Tyrus says, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “It is about the total consolidation of our future. To ensure the purity of our lines, I am proud to announce a second alliance.”
He gestures toward the shadow behind the dais. Thomas Crankshawe steps forward. The man is disgusting—not the greasy hair and skin, it’s the small eyes that watch young girls with a predatory hunger.
“I have officially signed the papers,” Tyrus continues, his voice completely controlled. “Thomas Crankshawe has been granted legal guardianship of my daughter, Aurora, effective immediately. She will move to his estate tonight, and upon her eighteenth birthday, they will be joined in marriage.”
The room remains silent for a moment, then there’s a scattering of applause.
Applause.
I feel the world tilt. Rory is sixteen. She’s a child. And Crankshawe—the man who raped Theo’s mother—is looking at her like a piece of meat he’s just purchased at auction.
The chatter and clapping dies away, and into the hush is a trembling high-pitched voice.
“No, no! I won’t do this, I won’t go!”
“Aurora, be silent,” Tyrus snaps, his eyes flashing of punishment to come. But then they change. He nods to Thomas,acknowledging Crankshawe now makes the decisions when it comes to my sister.
My sister who has snapped.
“Aurora, come here,” Thomas Crankshawe commands.
She lunges towards the nearest table then runs at the dais. I don’t see until the last second a steak knife in her hand. And she drives it straight into Thomas Crankshawe’s side.
Thomas lets out a guttural roar, staggering back as blood blooms across his white shirt. The crowd gasps, a wave of panic rippling through the room.
“You pig!” Aurora screams, her face twisted in a mask of unadulterated rage. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill all of you!”
She tries to strike again, but François de Vaux is there in a heartbeat, grabbing her wrist and twisting the knife away. His usual sardonic mask is nowhere to be seen. He looks horrified.
For her? For his father?
Thomas is clutching his side, his face turning a mottled purple. He isn't scared; he’s humiliated. He’s furious. He lunges at Aurora, his hand connecting with her face in a crack that echoes off the vaulted ceiling.
“You little bitch,” Thomas hisses, then looks at Tyrus. “She needs more than guardianship. I want her broken.” He pulls his hand away from the wound. I can see it’s not deep, not dangerous—unfortunately.
Tyrus looks at his daughter with a cold, detached disgust. “Do what you will with her, Thomas. She is your responsibility now.”
“Fine,” Thomas growls. He signals to his own personal guards. “Take her. She isn't going to my estate. She’s going toQuo Reformare—tonight! We’ll see how much fight she has left after a few months of discipline.”
“No! Cosmo, help me!” Aurora screams as the guards drag her toward the side exit. Her heels scrape against the marble floor. “COSMO!”
I start to step forward, my dragon roaring in my chest, but Tyrus’s hand clamps onto my shoulder. His grip is like iron.
