"Wow, Xav, you're right. Then she nearly got kidnapped by the PKs and cleverly got me to spray her with nerve gas. She's an absolute mastermind."
"Why am I not surprised you won’t even consider it? Look, Brother, if you're that desperate for a tumble, there are easier ways."
The squeaking of the lavatory door saved him from my scathing response. Out came Adelaide in a skirt that brushed the tops of her feet and a short-sleeved emerald blouse that came up to her neck, concealing the necklace. The clothes were clearly too large, but at least they wouldn't draw attention. She had a flat leather shoe on one foot, and the other still wrapped.
My eyes widened when they got to her face. She had scrubbed the make-up off, revealing clear, pale skin, and her dark hair fell in waves down to her elbows. Without all the black stuff smeared down her face, her eyes looked bigger, and they gleamed with intelligence. Before, she had looked phony and untouchable, like a china doll. I hadn’t expected to find her attractive.
If it hadn't been for the ever-guarded look on her face, I might have even said she looked softer. I examined her for traces of the subterfuge Xavier alluded to, but seeing her now, the idea seemed as ridiculous as before.
Does she even know what a terrible person her father is?
Xavier cleared his throat and gave me an "I told you so" look.
Merde. I had been staring.
Adelaide handed me my jacket back. "Thank you," she said. "I should have said that before, I know." Heavily-lashed brown eyes looked for a moment into my own.
"It was nothing," I replied, knowing that wasn’t the truth. "Are you hungry?"
"Not really. Do we have next steps?"
I gaped a little at that. She was running away from us not ten minutes ago and now there was a "we"?
Her eyes flitted to my face, and she sighed. "Look, I'm not an idiot. The Peace Keepers clearly aren't on our side. I don't believe my father gave that order, but I have no way of getting to him without crossing them first. I'm a target as long as I have this necklace on, and you say you can help me get it off. So, let's just get this over with." She sounded exasperated, but surprisingly level-headed.
"Okay. Well, it's after midnight, so first, we need to find somewhere safe, and then we need to sleep." There was a town curfew, so they weren't getting anywhere else tonight anyway. Speaking of which, I popped my head into the living room and waved to get my brother's attention. "Gunther, how's it coming in there?"
He looked up from a map and came to the kitchen. "Found it. We're in luck. There's a safe house a mile from here, and we can easily take alleys to get there. No one will be looking for her in a group like this. Addie, can you get a scarf or something to help cover your face?"
Adelaide nodded and headed back to Nell's room.
"Addie? Not you, too, Gunther. She's the enemy." Xavier spoke quietly, but Gunther read his lips clearly, and shook his head, not a trace of shame on his face.
"No. Her father is the enemy, and whether she realizes it or not, he may be her enemy, too." Whispering wasn’t one of Gunther’s strengths, so I hoped she hadn't heard that.
I agreed with him. She may not think her father had given those orders, but there wasn't a doubt in my mind as to the man's ruthlessness. Adelaide's expression was unchanged when she emerged with a gauzy scarf in her hand, but I had learned that meant nothing when it came to her.
"The princess emerges. Let's go then," Xavier said.
I glared at him, and we made our way out into the night.
The Heiress
The first time I tried whiskey was on deathiversary number three. I was fifteen, and still naive enough to think my father might bother to be around to comfort me. Nell had offered to come over, but I had turned her down on that chance. He hadn't come home, of course.
I had gone into his office and sat down in his chair. My feet couldn't touch the ground, and something about that had felt symbolic. Then I had seen it — a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid. What the hell, I had thought. I removed the delicate stopper and took a sip straight from the bottle. It burned, and I choked and sputtered for a moment. And then I took another sip. I found that I preferred that burn and the numbing sensation that followed to my normal state.
If my father noticed the substantial amount of whiskey that had gone missing from the decanter, he never mentioned it. Not that night or on the countless ones that followed.
Chapter Seventeen
Adelaide
The walk to the safe house was uneventful, if a bit tense. As a bonus, I got to make it on my own two feet. Both of those things made for a nice change of pace. The soft shoes I had found chafed at my already raw feet. They hurt even more by the time we arrived at the suburban house not unlike the one we had left. We came in through the back door, and all three boys' shoulders sagged with relief. They headed to the surprisingly cozy kitchen where Xavier set down the food we had pilfered from Nell's house. Clark switched on the radio and fiddled with the knob until the static cleared.
A male voice was mid-sentence, reporting on the museum incident. "… only reported casualty was Professor Trauman."
Does that mean Locke is safe, or only that my father hasn't allowed his death to be reported? My stomach was in knots, so I only watched and listened while the boys devoured the snack. I couldn’t remember the last time I had torn into food that way. Envy stabbed at my undersized gut.
The voice continued. "As of now, we are still unsure of the motive, though Hila's Tear has also been reported missing. The small fire in the exhibit hall forced the evacuation of the attendees, but we are happy to report the royal family is safe."
That’s a relief. I hadn't thought it likely that anything would have happened to the people in the main hall, but it was still nice to have it confirmed.
"The Emperor is demanding that all evidence be turned over to Redshaw Corporation, and that anyone with any information come directly to the Red Sons."
Yeah, I was sure "The Emperor" had demanded that. More like my father had thrown his weight around. He also seemed to be hiding my disappearance, so the Peace Keepers must have been asked to keep it under wraps. That was telling in itself, but I wasn't sure what it meant. The news basically went on a loop after that, repeating the same information and speculating on whether it was the Men of High Purpose, a known terrorist group, that were responsible for the whole ordeal. I tuned it out, lost in my own meanderings.
Clark and Xavier exchanged a few pointed looks but said nothing. When the brothers were finished eating, Xavier wordlessly pointed to Clark and then down. Clark nodded, and they filed off without preamble. I looked questioningly at Gunther, who shrugged.
"They're going to work out their issues," he said. Moments later, grunts and clanging could be heard through the floorboards. I shook my head at the idiocy of the young men.
"They're fighting?" I asked. "Aren't they injured? And aren't we supposed to be resting?"
"They won’t be able to rest until they get it all out of their systems, and as for injuries, it's nothing serious. Xavier would know if it was." He waved a gloved hand as if to dismiss the whole thing. "I can show you to your room, if you'd like."
I hesitated. I didn't sleep under the best of circumstances, and after today, I knew I was looking forward to an anxious night of tossing and turning, if I fell asleep at all. Besides, much as it galled me to admit it, I wasn't sure I was ready to be alone.
"Not just yet. Maybe I could make us some tea first," I offered, hoping he wouldn't notice my pathetic attempts to stall.
Poor little Addie, afraid of going to bed.
"That would be great. You're not much of a sleeper?" he asked. I shook my head. "Neither is Clark, but that's for different reasons." He seemed to cut himself off, and then hurried on. "Really, Xavier's the only one of us who does sleep, and he's a bear in the morning."
I giggled in spite of myself. Bear seemed like a most apt description of the hulking man. I wasn't sleeping any time soon, so I decided to
pry while I poked my way around the kitchen, waving off Gunther's help. "So, you guys are brothers?" I asked with my back to him. He didn't respond, and I wondered if I'd said something offensive. I turned around, but he wore nothing but a polite expression. "Gunther?"
"Yeah?"
"I was just curious, because Clark calls you brothers, but—"
"But we clearly aren't?" He laughed, putting me at ease. He went on to tell me how their father had found them and adopted them one by one.
"He sounds like an amazing person," I said.
"He was."
"Oh. I'm so sorry." And I was. Losing a parent had been unbearable to me, and I still technically had one left.
"It was a long time ago."
Those were words I recognized. Words that meant nothing to grief. The teapot whistled shrilly, but he didn't seem to notice. I got up and poured the water over our chamomile leaves and brought the two steaming cups to the table. I wanted to say something comforting, but emotions had never been my strong suit, so I settled on a subject change.
"Aren't you hot in those gloves?" I asked. If anything, his expression got darker, and I regretted my probing questions. I started to backpedal, but he stopped me with a raised hand.
"It's okay. It's a fair question. Have you noticed that I don't respond to you unless you're looking at me when you talk?" Now that he mentioned it, I nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with this. "I was five years old when Father found me. I had run away from home."
This non sequitur confused me, but I felt my stomach clench in sympathy. What would make a five-year-old run away from home?
Gunther stared at his gloved hands. "The people I lived with — I won’t call them my parents — made the rather unfortunate discovery that I was deaf." He paused for my reaction.
My face smoothed in understanding, the pieces coming together in my mind: the slight accent I couldn't trace, his shrug when the riddle was read through the speaker, and the fact he hadn’t reacted to anything that had come on the radio. I felt stupid now for not seeing it.
He continued. "I can't hear, so I couldn't speak back then. I tried to gesture and communicate with my hands, but those people hated that. They wanted me to be normal. They had a weeping willow tree out front, and they picked a new switch every day. Eventually, out of necessity, I learned to speak. But sometimes, I would slip up." As he was speaking, he was slowly removing his gloves. I didn't want to look, but if he could endure it – as a child, no less – I could damn well look at the aftermath.
It was worse than I expected. Deep scars crisscrossed and bisected each other, mutilating every inch of his fingers. I swallowed down bile at the thought of what had been done to a brilliant little boy, then tentatively placed my own smooth hand over his ragged one and gently squeezed. I had no words. Everything I thought of sounded cliché and useless in my head, but I hoped he understood.
"Why did you tell me this?" I blurted out after a moment. I couldn't imagine it was a story he told many people, and he had known me no more than a few hours. He opened his mouth to answer, but Xavier and Clark barreled into the room before he got any words out.
I had to stop my mouth from dropping open. They were dripping with sweat. And shirtless. Very, very lacking in the shirt department. Two broad, defined, masculine chests filled the wide opening to the kitchen, one dark, one swarthy, both gleaming with the sheen of exertion.
When I managed to wrench my brazen gaze away from the vee that led to Clark’s loose-fitting pants, I could see that Xavier’s arm was purple and mottled from where he had landed on it earlier. Clark had his own collection of bruises, standing out in stark contrast to his pale, jagged scar. And then, there were the injuries they had just given each other. Clark had a bloody nose and Xavier a busted lip. I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
They really are a couple of idiots.
Both brothers' eyes zeroed in on our joined hands. Clark's cobalt eyes narrowed a moment before resuming their usual cocky expression, but Xavier glared openly before he spun on his heel and left.
“Guess Xav won first shower?” Gunther asked.
Clark nodded, his expression irritable.
Strictly speaking, Xavier, with the contrast in his deep brown skin and blue-green eyes, was probably the most attractive of the three. Not that he ever stopped scowling long enough for anyone to be able to appreciate it.
Although, it wasn’t like the other two were hard to look at. Gunther looked so young with wide, sky-blue eyes and hair so red it bordered on orange, but he certainly wasn’t unattractive.
Clark knew exactly how good-looking he was, if that arrogant grin he always wore was any indication. I rolled my eyes internally, both at that and Xavier’s sullen retreat.
"Which one of you is going to make sure he doesn't off me in my sleep?" My attempt to break the tension worked.
Both brothers laughed, then Clark informed me it was a non-issue, because we'd all be sleeping in the living room for safety. It hardly mattered since I likely wouldn't be sleeping at all, but that sounded like a basket full of awkward. I had just been thinking I didn't want to be alone, though, so there was that.
Clark headed to the shower when Xavier returned. I decidedly did not think about water running down his god-awfully perfect form and was in no way relieved when he emerged fully clothed this time.
I was definitely a little jealous when they were all in clean clothes that actually fit. I didn't ask what Clark had done with Locke's uniform. One way or another, it hardly mattered now. We just needed to focus on getting through the next day.
We made our way to the living room where the boys were setting out the sleeping bags. I took advantage of having all three of them back in the same room, clearing my throat to get their attention.
“Trust goes both ways. I’m coming with you willingly, but I want to know who you are. Who do you work for? What base were you referring to?”
They all froze at my question. Xavier’s face was predictably irritable, while Gunther’s was considering. I couldn’t read Clark’s guarded expression. The silence became palpable, but I wasn’t backing down. I stared at each of them, my chin jutting out, wordlessly demanding an answer.
Finally, it was Clark who spoke. “We work for the Men of High Purpose.”
I blinked at him. They’re terrorists?
“What the hell, Clark?” Xavier yelled.
A perusal of the room showed at least two exits. Maybe I could wait until they were sleeping and leave. The Men of High Purpose were no joke. They killed people. Clark caught my eyes with his own calm ones. I doubted seriously that my own face was half that serene.
“You can stop looking like you just found yourself in a room of mass murderers.” Clark rolled his eyes. “We joined them a few years ago, because some of their goals aligned with ours, but we work more as independent contractors. Besides, a lot of the more extreme things attributed to them were done by copycat groups. The majority of our work is nothing more than simple surveillance and acquisition.”
It didn’t escape my notice that he had used the word “majority.”
“So, you’ve never killed anyone, then?” I asked, not taking my eyes off his.
His face hardened, and his eyes went distant. The expression was gone in a flash, replaced by a grin. “Not yet, sweetheart.”
I didn’t know how to take that, any of it.
Fortunately, Gunther saved me from responding. He seemed to be doing a lot of that. “We’ve had a long day. Let’s get some sleep.”
That was as good an idea as any. Now that I had recovered from the shock, I was reminded that these three were my best option. They hadn’t tried to hurt me so far.
Nonetheless, I wasn't wrong about the awkwardness. Four sleeping bags were laid out side by side in an average-sized living room, which meant there was not room to spare in between them. I stood off to the side, wondering which one I was supposed to sleep in and who would be next to me. Xavier and Clark took the two on the ends, which
left me inevitably sandwiched between Gunther and one of them. Trying not to make it too obvious, I quickly stepped toward Clark, not sure I wanted to lay next to someone who so clearly despised me.
True to what Gunther had said, I heard Xavier snoring before I even got settled into my sleeping bag. Gunther wasn't too far behind him, which just left Clark and me still breathing unevenly. I stared at the ceiling, mind racing with the events of the day. Gunther's sad story swirled around with memories of my own past.
The day Nell brought me that tiny white kitten, my father hadn't blinked before he said I could keep it. There was no argument about the logistics of a cat in a penthouse, no disparaging comment when that same kitten promptly bit his finger. I think even then he had known his own limitations as a comforter, but he had cared enough for me to have that. And that meant something.
He had never thought twice when I dragged my much less well-off friend everywhere with us, even when we got in trouble together. Other parents worried about their children's social standing, but I supposed mine was untouchable at that point anyway.
He had never said no just for the sake of it or tried to be overly controlling in my life. Really, we only ever argued about two things: my trip to the Ever Falls, and anything to do with the monarchy or my potential place in it. There had been times I resented his constantly working or his revolving door of girlfriends, but even on my darkest days, I never actually doubted he cared for me.
The Peace Keepers were wrong.
And Nell. Tears burned in the back of my eyes with five years of memories, ending with her giving me that book and implying I was like a sister to her. We had both lost our own siblings, and the significance of that moment hadn't been lost on me, though I had brushed it off at the time. I was furious with her for all the lies she had apparently told, but it just didn't feel like she could have betrayed me.
The Fractured Empire (The World Apart Series Book 1) Page 12