Mr. Lethon looked so heartbroken at his daughter’s betrayal—betrayal of , of him—that for a fleeting mont, I considered patting his shoulder, offering the usual hollow reassurance that everything would be fine, that this was simply the stuff of life.
The fickleness of human nature was no strange phenonon to . People’s loyalties shifted with the seasons, sotis without warning, and more often without sha. But I swallowed that impulse, letting out a tired sigh instead.
Sliding into one of the chairs opposite his desk, I crossed one leg over the other, resting my elbow lazily on the armrest and my cheek against my palm. I studied the two of them—father and daughter—locked in their silent standoff.
"So why did you bring here?" I asked finally, breaking the uncomfortable quiet.
It was directed at Levina, and the way she startled—like a guilty child caught sneaking sweets—told she had nearly forgotten I was in the room. She shrugged, all casual defiance.
"For him to give you an ultimatum," she said, as though she were announcing a perfectly reasonable arrangent. "Keep up appearances with , or get detention for a week. Or sothing along those lines."
I barked a laugh before I could stop myself, the sound sharp and incredulous. The timing was almost comical, because Mr. Lethon let out his own dry chuckle at the exact sa mont. For a second, we both seed united in mutual disbelief.
"You are already behaving like her," I said when my laughter died down, my voice laced with equal parts amusent and disappointnt. "That’s progress."
Levina folded her arms, her face settling into a stubborn mask.
Her father’s amusent, however, was short-lived. "Leave my office," he said, his tone low but heavy with anger.
The shaless girl didn’t even flinch. "No one is talking to anymore," she said, her voice pitching upward as if it were the world’s most tragic confession. "They—"
"Haven’t you lived such a life before?" I asked, genuinely curious. "At least this ti, you won’t be bullied anymore. I think you should be grateful."
Levina stomped her foot like a spoiled child. "Won’t you say sothing?" she demanded of her father. "Do you want to be a pariah in society? Do you think Mother would be happy about that?"
Shaless blackmail. The words fell from her lips so casually that I almost acted on El’s whispered suggestion to fling her out of the open window behind .
Almost. But that would only break Mr. Lethon’s heart further.
His jaw tightened. "Do you think your mother would be proud of the woman you are becoming—one with no morality?" His voice cracked slightly, just enough to betray the hurt beneath the anger.
There was a pause, a muted sound that might have been the start of a sob, but she masked it quickly.
"Gods," he murmured, "how could I have been blind to this side of you?"
"Don’t bla yourself, Mr. Lethon," I interjected softly. "You can’t know a person fully—not even if you’re their parent. Neither can you control their behavior."
Then, turning to Levina, my tone hardened. "Get out of here. You are killing your father with the words you speak. And I tell you, the Queen won’t accept you into her fold if things go south. If anything, she will get rid of you—like she did Zande—because you are unloyal. A snitch. A traitor. No one trusts that kind of person, not even your new best friend. You’ll see it for yourself one day, and I won’t be there to pick up the pieces when it happens."
Her pride was too thick a veil for the warning to penetrate. Levina scoffed, sneered at both of us, and walked out of the office.
"You can take her as your daughter," she threw over her shoulder, right before she slamd the door hard enough to make the bookshelves rattle.
The silence she left behind was heavy.
"I’m sorry about how things have turned out," I began after a beat, pushing myself to my feet. My next lesson was probably already in session.
"It’s okay. It’s not your fault," Mr. Lethon replied, running a hand over his face as if to smooth away the disappointnt. "I’ll just have to be more present and... interested in her activities. I’m rather sorry that she’s turned out to be this unfriendly as a friend."
I shrugged, already heading for the door. "It’s life, I guess. Take care, Mr. Lethon. And don’t think too much about this."
It was an unnecessary suggestion, because I knew he’d think about it—for the rest of the day, perhaps the week.
Outside, the cool air of the corridor hit . As I made my way back toward class, I spotted Sinclair strolling down the hall in the company of two girls, his easy smile in place, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. The girls were laughing, one of them tapping his arm with obvious fondness.
Oh, Levina would hate this.
I slowed my steps just enough to watch them, the corner of my mouth curling in amusent. Sinclair was using his charm and popularity strategically; it was written all over him. A disloyal playboy.
When his gaze t mine, I gave him a knowing smile, shook my head, and kept walking. Behind , the girls laughed at sothing he said, chiding him for being distracted by "another girl."
Idiots, I thought, taking the next turn toward my classroom.
And just as I expected, Mr. Bulock’s voice was already droning from inside when I opened the door.
"Why are you late for class, Dora?"
"The principal sent for her," Raul answered before I could. He didn’t even glance up from his desk.
I sighed, mirroring the professor’s frustration.
"I wasn’t speaking to you, Raul," Mr. Bullock said sharply.
Yes, Raul, can you mind our damn business? I thought irritably. It had been two weeks since he’d even looked in my direction, and now this?
This back-and-forth was exhausting. And I had no desire to nd fences—Makhe had warned to stay away from him and his family.
"Go to your seat, Dora. Raul, next ti you speak when you’re not told to, you’ll be spending ti in detention. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir," Raul muttered, eyes still down.
I wondered what he was writing as I slid into my seat. My attention drifted reluctantly to the professor’s lecture—a dull retelling of historical events that felt irrelevant in these tense tis.
Later that day, as Diana and I walked ho from school, she asked, "How was school today?"
I wasn’t working at the supermarket anymore—the Queen’s order. My ti was now colonized by her for training, though I didn’t complain. She paid well enough.
Today, however, there was no training; Raul had delivered a ssage in the last class—a small folded note dropped on my desk before he left—that the Queen wouldn’t be around. Sothing about a foreign affairs eting.
It made wonder—had the vampire attacked another neighboring community? Or perhaps even the Lycan region?
Peter had once told that Lycans didn’t really need protection, being beasts themselves. But from what I had seen in that forest, they stood no chance against that monstrosity if the evil species decided to invade. Not without a backup plan.
"The usual," I finally answered Diana, our joined hands swinging loosely between us.
"Are you still attending the Lycan’s party next week? Do you think Mom and Dad will be down for it, considering the unrest?"
"They have to," I said, a thread of excitent weaving into my voice. "I already gave the King my word."
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