Page 147 of Queen of Nothing

He turns his cheek to me and, slowly, he drops onto the armchair.

Gutted.

Defeated.

Devastated.

I see it all on him. Written in the creases of his face, the way he drops it into his hands, the sag of his shoulders.

He doesn’t speak.

Neither does Oliver, who turns towards the fire and places his hand on the mantel.

I look over my shoulder, and my tired eyes find Mr Younge by the door. The door that he must have shut quietly behind him.

Normally he wears a face carved from stone. Unreadable most of the time. Sometimes cracked with derision.

But now, he has his head dropped. Like he can’t bring himself to look at me, at any of us.

Like this is devastating to him, too.

Father draws in my numb stare.

His breath shudders out of him.

For a beat, I almost think it’s a sob.

Then he lifts his weary face, reddened by the grip of his hands, and the twist of his mouth gives it away.

It was a curt, bitter scoff. Almost a laugh. Teetering on the edge of true shock, the kind that needs a witchdoctor.

I look at Father, and I see a man who—for the first time in my life, maybe his life—doesn’t know what to do.

Elbows planted on his knees, his hands come together in prayer, fingertips pressing into his chin, and he shuts his eyes.

He thinks.

Then—

“You will go to Thornbury.” Father cuts his gaze to Oliver. “This needs to be dealt with now.”

Oliver shakes his head. “We let it settle.”

The outrage flashes in Father’s eyes. “And if he leaks it?”

Like I’m not here, and I didn’t find out the krumness of what I am, they discuss it—like it’s a business deal gone wrong.

Oliver argues, “Dray isn’t a rash man. But his anger will be formidable if we approach now. I will call on him later tomorrow. He will not leak this. It’s too damaging for the coven. He will want answers first.”

“Answers would be nice,” I murmur into the pillow—

And that suddenly reminds them that I am here, that I exist, that I am at the centre of it all.

Father blinks at me once, then frowns… but it isn’t a frown of rage and disgust and disappointment.

It’s pain.

Torment.