Page 71 of Bloom
Once Aleric was locked in his room, he let out a breath and suddenly wanted to kick something. Instead, he forced himself into his privy to clean his face. A few drops of red had marred his coat, and the servant who did the wash would have to get it out.
He didn’t bother to put on another and simply flopped on his bed in his vest and shirt to stare at the ceiling. He’d look like a monster now. Zacharie had started it, but he’d reacted, and Gautier would speak as though Aleric had come after him with a sword. He’d dote on the brat and make himself look extra protective. Not everyone would think he was right at all, but plenty would.
He wouldn’t be surprised if Gautier brought up the old rumor that Aleric had hit his wife and make it seem like he finally got what he deserved.
He’d say whatever to tilt the sympathy toward the younger and himself. Fuck, he might even lie and say Zacharie was afraid of him or Aleric had hit him before. Whatever he thought was convincing enough to make the older look worse.
Even with those thinking Zacharie needed a good slug to shut him up, Aleric would come out worse, and he could already hear the lecture coming.
It wasn’t long before he heard thumping on his sitting room door. “Aleric!”
Father. He’d given Jaime a key to get it in and out. Thankfully, Father didn’t have one.
“Damn it.”
Aleric turned his head to look at the three crystal flowers hanging in the window. Mother and the twins. If she and the twins had lived, things would be a lot different. There wouldn’t be any Zacharie because Father wouldn’t have later sought companionship in a new lover to ease the crushing loneliness.
Or if there was a Zacharie, he would have come from Pearl and been a full brother. And a different man. Aleric might be a better man, possibly happily married and pregnant, or already with a child.
Or certain events would have taken place the same, and he’d be viewed as a jealous liar by Mother too. Perhaps Gautier would have chased Florent once he was eighteen.
He heard the sitting room door open, and he jumped before sitting bolt upright.
“I’m back,” Jaime called.
Aleric opened the bedroom door to find him setting something on the table in front of the couch. Father and LordGautier had entered, and Zacharie slouched in with a sour expression as he looked everywhere but Aleric.
Lord Gautier hadn’t been in Aleric’s rooms for years, and he’d been in a different set back then. “I didn’t say you could all come in-”
“Why does he have a key?” Gautier demanded as he pointed at Jaime.
“So I can get in,” Jaime said calmly. “What else?”
Lord Monet made a cutting motion with his hand. “Aleric often keeps his doors locked like he thinks a servant is going to steal everything and run away. That’s not what we’re here for. Aleric, did you intend to hit your brother?”
Aleric had intended to rearrange his face. “Yes.”
“Zacharie admitted he called Pearl…a name.”
“He called my Mother and your wife a whore,” Aleric spat as he came around the couch. “Not just a name.”
“I know what he called her. I don’t want to say that word in relation to Pearl.” Lord Monet glared at his youngest. “I better not hear anything about my dead wife come out of your mouth again or you’ll lose your allowance, and I’ll stick you in a bedroom with a bed and nothing else. Aleric, if you ever try to hit your brother again, even over anything like that, I’ll take your allowance.”
“I was supposed to let him smear Mother’s honor when she’s not even alive to defend herself?!”
“You’re brothers!” yelled Lord Monet. “Zacharie acts like a damn child at times, but honestly, you’re not much better. You’re older and quite capable of coming to me and using your words to explain what happened instead of escalating a scene.”
“What’s his punishment for hitting me?”
“He was protecting Zacharie!”
“So he can hit me, and it’s fine?”
“I’m not saying I approve. What kind of man would Alex be if he stood there and let you beat Zacharie? If you had a husband or was with anyone for that long-”
“He’s an adult too,” said Jaime. “He shouldn’t have escalated it by breaking your son’s nose.”
Lord Monet stared at him. “This doesn’t even involve you.”
