34

Tiv

Friday 7th September, Year 825

"The photographers have been told you will be exiting The Nevermind at nine-thirty this evening. Miss Swiftly has been told the same thing by her parents," Father instructed.

I put the phone on speaker and continued to shave in my new bathroom.

"It's been seven months to the day since Mother's death. Playing the social butterfly was not on my list of things to do today. I'm sure rescheduling-"

"We can't," he interrupted.

I waited for him to say more. He did not.

"No. Not today." I braced myself.

"We aren't discussing this further unless you would also like to discuss the apartment you're currently residing in. Remember boy, it's in my name."

I clenched my jaw and sighed before mumbling, "Nine-thirty. The Nevermind. Got it."

I put drops in my eyes to make them less red and took pills to numb the headache. I had no idea what they were; Jonas had procured them for me from a familiar apparently. They were a great pain killer and always caused a surge of energy to course through my veins. Everything seemed heightened with them, colour intensified, sound sharpened. Life seemed less shit. It was delightful.

"Miss Swiftly is important, Tiv. Best behaviour. Do not drink," Father ordered.

"Yes, fine," I lied.

It turns out Amelia Swiftly was rather important. She was the socialite daughter of another politician, also chasing the Governor's job. He and my Father made an arrangement—whoever got into office ensured the other would have the deputy job. There was no doubt in my Father's mind that he would not be relegated to deputy. However, he thought having Amelia and I spotted together gave the image of our Fathers being friends rather than rivals. Father vaguely disguised this by telling me she was from good stock and therefore a perfect match for me. I had no notion as to what made her good stock; she was new money living off her Father. Though I supposed I was simply old money living off mine.

"I'll call you tomorrow. Early," he warned.

"Mmm," I yawned sluggishly, waiting for the pills to take effect.

He hung up and I stuck my finger up at the mobile phone.

The television that constantly stayed on the news channel could barely be heard over the folk music that filled my bedroom. I didn't often pay attention to the day's headlines; Lambent very rarely reported on news from Vakoso unless it was breaking. Despite this, I knew Thruck was on also its way to ruin. There were rumours the Vakosian president had been moved back to Lambent. If that was the case, they had lost. If that was the case, it meant war. Losing Harroworth was one thing but losing the capital was defiance that would not be ignored. With the two richest cities in Vakoso down, a number of other cities had followed. Vakoso was in flames.

I had managed less than a week before I changed the delivery address of Alayna's phone bills. No more calls had been made or received. I found myself desperate to see activity on the paper bills. Proof she was still alive. I worried yet again about her well-being as I fiddled with the ring on my middle finger. Perhaps it was my psyche creating scenarios in which I could convince myself she was safe, but I almost felt her. Her touch on my skin seemed to ripple like waves on water. I convinced myself that was proof she was still breathing.

My driver picked Amelia up from her apartment just before seven and she gracefully climbed into the car, sitting opposite me. She wore a tight, maroon dress of chiffon with a slit all the way up to her toned thigh. The dress plunged at the front and I had to remind myself not to stare at her breasts. She looked fantastic and yet the only thing I could think about was how much I wanted to peel the dress off Alayna's body. How much I would rather be spending an evening halfway around the world rather than with the beauty in front of me. Seven months since I'd last laid eyes on Alayna and that was my thought pattern. Marco was right. She had her claws deep. How pathetic.

"What do you think?" Amelia said, sticking her chest out.

I smiled at her, "You'll turn heads."

"There is only one head I want to turn," her blue-gold eyes smouldered.

"Lucky me," I smirked. "Just make sure the cameras are on us please."

She pouted childishly, "You sound like my Father."

"I sound like my Father," I grumbled.

I helped her out of the car and she grasped my hand gently before leading me into the restaurant. I could not stop looking her up and down, trying to keep my mouth closed. She smirked at me.

"Remember to wait until the cameras are on us," she winked.

The hostess led us through the beautifully carpeted interior of the restaurant, our way lit by the gentle glow of crystal chandeliers. Amber light pooled on white tablecloths, casting a glow over the polished silverware. Amelia moved with a grace that felt choreographed for the admiring eyes that followed her every step. I trailed behind, my attention firmly on the sway of her hips.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I pulled out a chair for Amelia, a pleasant smile pulling at the edges of her lips. She draped herself across the seat as if posing for a portrait.

"So," she began, tilting her chin upward as she surveyed the menu, "What's your poison?"

"Whisky," I said, glancing at the wine list without interest. "Neat."

She laughed, a sound that seemed to rise effortlessly like Solaire bubbles. "Darker tastes for darker thoughts?"

"Not particularly," I mumbled.

I forced a smile when Amelia playfully admonished the waiter for not bringing the water with no lemon as she had requested. Our conversation attempted to flow from there. She spoke passionately about her latest shopping spree, her voice undulating with excitement when describing each garment.

"You should have seen the last dress I picked up. It would make the Hawes' family jewels envious." Her smile was infectious, and I caught myself smiling back despite my reluctance.

I tried to match her enthusiasm, asking questions where it seemed appropriate. I nodded along to stories of parties as she mentioned names I should have recognised but couldn't find the will to remember. As our food arrived, the waiters slid each dish onto the table with precision. I barely acknowledged my plate, my gaze catching the movement of Amelia's silverware as she dissected her meal with clinical precision. Every movement was perfect; she knew she had the attention of the room on her. The scent of seasoned meat and rich sauces wafted up, however it failed to stir my appetite.

"Don't you like it?" Her gaze caught mine as I poked aimlessly at my plate. "I can send it back?"

"It's delicious," I lied smoothly, though in truth my appetite lay forgotten in a dusty corner of my mind.

Amelia leaned forward then, resting her elbows on the table, ignoring etiquette in favour of proximity. Her hair flowed over one shoulder like liquid gold in the low light.

"You're not really here with me, are you?" she challenged softly. "Where are you and who are you with?"

"I am here. With you, darling," I said carefully, trying to remind myself not to grip my fork too tightly.

She believed my lie, her posture relaxing as she leaned back in her chair, nodding to the server who whisked our plates away. Dessert menus arrived as Amelia continued with stories designed to capture attention. All I could see was Alayna's impish beam. The way her hair didn't flow but rather tumbled around her face, dark and fiery, daring me to touch it despite knowing I'd get burned. I did my best with my desert, however I could almost see Alayna sitting opposite me. Singing her imbecilic songs. Swearing too loudly. Not giving a damn about the eyes on her. I found myself shaking my head to regain my wits. Amelia was the opposite of Alayna. That should have been what I was striving for.

A wrinkle creased Amelia's flawless brow, eventually pulling me from my thoughts, as she inspected the dessert when it was placed before her. A sigh escaped her lips; she waved the waiter over with a languid flick of her wrist and sent it back.

I raised an eyebrow and her pout transformed quickly back to a smile, "I've always believed that life is too short for mediocrity. One must always experience the finest."

"And what do you consider fine?" I asked, more out of courtesy than curiosity.

"Adventure. Excitement. Passion." She paused for effect before fluttering her eyelashes playfully and added, "Power… My Father tells me you're looking at a career in politics."

So she was using me, except this time it was for status rather than material possession. The idea made me suppress a sigh—politics was a path paved by expectations and obligations that only those around me seemed to benefit from. "Possibly. Father feels it a prudent career path."

"And what do you feel?"

I animated my face into a smile, "Fortunate."

As Amelia spoke, my thoughts drifted unbidden back to Alayna—how different she was from the woman sat opposite me; feisty and defiant where Amelia was poised and polished. How Alayna's laugh would have filled the space not simply with sound but with spirit. The evening reminded me how much I wished for windswept hair across rosy cheeks and dirt under my fingernails from muddy meadows. Perhaps that was Alayna's allure; she represented freedom from this prison.

A part of me understood that the luxuries in my life were not simply mine but expectations dressed as gifts from my parents. Yet it was clear that whatever my Father hoped to cultivate between Amelia and I tonight would not bloom into anything more than stifled politeness on my end.

We did as we were bid, smiling and falling all over each other like a loved-up couple at nine-thirty. I was fairly certain there would have been a few usable photos for the gossip columns. The moment we were back in the sleek, black car we sat opposite each other again. Her plastic smile fell to a grimace the moment the car door shut.

"I'm going to meet Xander and Kale for a drink. Tala will probably be there. Would you like to join me?" I asked.

She frowned, "Is this entirely for the camera then?"

I shrugged awkwardly, "We have fun."

"Oh you're such a romantic," she scoffed sarcastically.

"Just come and get drunk with us," I said irritably.

She glared at me, dropping all niceties from the restaurant.

"If I wake up tomorrow and you've bolted from my bed again, I'm telling my Father I'm done with you," she threatened.

"I had work, I couldn't stay!" I insisted.

"Four weekends in a row? That's odd," she barked.

I thought about my Father's rage if it got back to him that this had gone badly and took a deep breath. Slowly, I slid next to her and pulled her into me, putting my hand on her waist. I knew I must be broken because no man in his right mind would touch this woman and feel nothing. Yet I felt nothing. Regardless, I leaned into her and kissed her deeply, keeping her quiet.

My phone rang early the next morning. I put my arm over my face and wished for a quick death. It had been perhaps two hours since we went to bed. I needed the pills I'd left in my apartment. The phone rang again when I failed to answer it the first time.

"Tiv, stop that thing," Amelia groaned, hitting me hard on the chest.

I picked up the phone and read my Father's number on the screen.

"Here, you answer it," I yawned. "It's Tal."

Amelia did not open her eyes before putting the mobile to her full, pink lips and swearing into it. I grinned widely as she sat bolt upright and apologised profusely to Father, whacking me repeatedly with her free hand. At least Father knew I was busy and would leave me alone for a few hours. Or so I wished.

"Yes, sorry again, sir. Here he is," Amelia stammered, handing me the phone.

"I'm busy," I barked.

"So I hear. She has a mouth on her," he said.

"I agree," I replied, aiming to make him uncomfortable.

It did not work. He ignored me completely.

"I need you to come into the office today."

"It's a Saturday," I complained.

"Be at the manor in half an hour," he hung up.

Yes, sir...