"Hell is other people."
***
The dinner bell rang through the corridors.
I stopped in the shadowed corner of the third-floor landing and checked my reflection in the hallway mirror. The glass was tarnished, old, probably hadn’t been cleaned in years. Good enough.
The face looking back at had the right expression. Eyes down. Mouth in a thin line. Shoulders hunched just enough to look defeated without being theatrical.
Showti.
I adjusted my dinner jacket collar and headed for the stairs.
Let’s see what tonight’s family bonding session has in store. Will it be outright cruelty? Subtle humiliation? Or just the special joy of sitting in a room full of people who wish I’d never been born?
The staircase marble was cold under my shoes. Dead Leones watched from their portraits as I passed, oil-painted eyes tracking my progress down the corridor. Even the ancestors looked disappointed.
Sorry, great-great-grandfather. I’ll try to bring less sha to the family na. No promises though.
The dining hall doors stood open, spilling candlelight into the dim hallway. The room was built to hold twenty guests at its massive mahogany table, a leftover from the days when House Leone actually mattered. Now most nights it held four people surrounded by empty chairs and polished wood that nobody used.
Lord Aldric Leone sat at the head of the table.
My father looked like he’d been carved out of disappointnt and expensive taste. Mid-fifties, silver hair swept back in a style that showed off his cheekbones and strong jaw. Dark eyes that could make you feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. Every button on his formal dinner clothes was fastened. Every crease could have drawn blood.
He had the kind of presence that made people stand up straighter without knowing why. The gravitational pull of soone who’d spent his whole life expecting obedience and getting it.
To his right sat Lady Vivienne. My stepmother. Eight years of marriage had given her plenty of ti to perfect the art of looking beautiful while radiating pure poison.
Auburn hair piled up in sothing elaborate that must have taken an hour. Gold thread woven through it caught the candlelight when she moved. Green dress cut just low enough to be fashionable. Green eyes that sparkled with malicious joy whenever they landed on .
She’d started as a charming widow looking for security. She’d beco the estate’s unofficial executioner of anyone who got in her way.
And across from my designated seat, like a golden god who’d accidentally wandered into dinner with mortals, sat Lucius.
The son Father actually wanted.
Nineteen years old. Two inches taller than . Broader in the shoulders. The kind of natural athlete who’d never tripped over his own feet in his life. Dark hair, sa shade as mine, styled like he’d rolled out of bed looking perfect. Features sharper than mine, more refined, like God had used as a rough draft and then made the final version.
But it was the way he carried himself that really hurt. Lucius moved through the world like he belonged in it. Like he’d never once questioned whether he deserved the space he took up. Confidence that wasn’t arrogance because he actually had the goods to back it up.
And his magic had manifested early and strong. Father ntioned that fact constantly. Usually right after ntioning my own pathetic abilities. Just in case anyone forgot the comparison.
"Kaelen. You’re late."
By maybe forty-five seconds. But sure, Father. Let’s make it a federal issue.
I’d tid my entrance carefully. Late enough to seem apologetic, early enough not to actually cause offense. The sweet spot of maximum groveling opportunity.
I approached my chair. It was positioned, conveniently, to catch the worst of the drafts from the tall windows. Probably not an accident.
"My apologies, Father." I put quiet sha into my voice. "I was... collecting myself after this morning. The walk from my chambers took longer than I expected."
Lady Vivienne’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. A piece of roasted quail hung there while her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
"Oh yes, we heard all about your encounter with young Lord Valerius." Her voice dripped with fake sympathy. "Quite the spectacle, from what the servants are saying. Word has already spread to half the noble houses in the district."
Of course it has. Bad news travels fast. Humiliation travels faster. The kitchen staff probably had the full story out within an hour.
I pulled out my chair and sat down. Careful movents. Nothing that could be criticized.
"Leo von Valerius is a remarkable young man." I kept my voice empty. Neutral. Nothing they could grab onto and twist. "Talented. Strong. Blessed. I was... honored... by his attention."
Even if that attention was mostly threats about ending my existence. Let’s focus on the positive.
Father’s dark eyes fixed on . That asuring look. The one that always found lacking.
"Honored," he repeated. The word ca out flat. Dead.
"Yes, Father."
"You groveled in the dirt in front of half the estate staff." His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. "You begged a boy three years younger than you for rcy. You wept like a child."
Technically accurate. Also technically the reason I’m still breathing without broken bones. You’re welco.
"I... yes, Father."
"The Leone na." He said it like a prayer. Or a curse. "Generations of honor. Centuries of service to the crown. And my son, my blood, crawling in the mud like a common beggar."
Lady Vivienne made a sympathetic noise that fooled nobody. Lucius kept eating, his expression neutral, staying out of it. Smart move.
"I understand your disappointnt, Father." I kept my head down. Voice small. "I brought sha to our house. I have no excuse."
I have several excuses, actually. Starting with ’I’d rather be embarrassed than hospitalized’ and ending with ’at least I’m alive to be embarrassed.’ But you don’t want to hear those.
"No," Father agreed. "You don’t."
The silence stretched. Silverware clinked against plates. Soone poured wine. The candles flickered in the draft that conveniently aid right at my neck.
"Perhaps," Lady Vivienne said, her tone light and pleasant, "this will be a learning experience for our dear Kaelen. Sotis one must hit bottom before one can begin to climb."
Bold of you to assu I haven’t already been at bottom for seventeen years.
"Indeed, my love." Father’s attention shifted to her. The coldness thawed by maybe one degree. "We can only hope."
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