Page 115 of The Shattered Kingdom
I drag a hand down my face. Aaron’s already screaming by the time I reopen my eyes. Mason has Aaron pinned to the ground, smashing his face into the rug with a loud, taunting laugh. It looksrough, but Mason’s being gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt my brother. He just wants Aaron to know he could.
Dad looks up, his eyebrows raised, before returning to his book.
“I should break your skull,” Mason threatens. “I should crush it here on this fucking rug.”
Dad flips to the next page. Aaron screams something about his arm breaking, which I can very clearly see is a gross exaggeration. Mason’s barely touching him, and he even shifts to ensure he isn’t hurting my brother—only humiliating him.
Mom sighs. “That’s enough, you two. Help me set the table.”
Mason releases my brother, who immediately scampers off the ground with an angry scowl. I can’t lie and say I don’t enjoy watching him receive the treatment he forced me to endure for most of our childhood.
“That was hardly fair,” Aaron says, tugging down the ends of his shirt.
He strolls out of the room, but his gaze continually darts toward Mason as he carries plates to the dining table. He’s on edge, waiting for my mate to attack. I’m happy to see it. It’s what he deserves.
Mason follows Aaron into the dining room, looking aroundlike he isn’t quite sure how to help. I’m about to offer a suggestion when he leans down and whispers something into Aaron’s ear. I can’t fathom what it might be, especially when my brother barks out a loud laugh and hands over the plates.
“On the table,” he instructs.
Mom frowns. “Don’t pawn off your chores.”
“He threatened to tear out my throat if I didn’t hand him the plates,” Aaron argues. “Seems I don’t have much of a choice.”
Mason doesn’t bother denying Aaron’s accusation, too busy setting the table. I’m glad he’s found something to keep himself busy, even if it involved threatening to murder my brother.
Mom finishes preparing food, which really just means cutting up a bunch of fruit, cheese, and bread. Mason and Kie ensured all of my family’s meals are taken care of, saving my parents the effort of cooking.
I suspect Mom likes the normalcy of cooking, though.
I sit at the table between Kie and Mason, biting back a smile as they each drop a hand to my lap.
“Have you heard back from your father?” Mom asks Mason, trying to start a conversation. “I overheard two women discussing him earlier today. They seemed quite passionate about the topic.”
As it turns out, the faeries are passionate about many things. Most of them are relieved that the longstanding peace treaty has been dissolved. They’re looking for any excuse to fight.
Mason grimaces. “It’s not something I can discuss outside the council.”
“I understand.” Mom purses her lips. “What’d you two get up to this morning, then?”
“We can’t discuss that, either,” Kie says at the exact moment I say, “We met with the council.”
He runs his thumb along my thigh, the gentle touch soothing me before I have the chance to regret saying the wrong thing. I’m still getting used to this.
“Did you two enjoy the theatre last night?” Kie asks, smoothly changing the subject. “I’m sorry we couldn’t attend, but we try not to leave the grounds.”
My mom opens her mouth, but her answer is cut short as Dad clears his throat, drawing attention. Mom makes a quiet, annoyed sound in the back of her throat, as if she already knows what’s on Dad’s mind and disapproves. He ignores it, too busy glancing at the ever-growing pile of books near the couch.
He has something to say, and he folds his hands togetherbefore blowing out a long breath and speaking up. “The librarian wouldn’t let me take out a book on plants. Why?”
Kie’s chest bounces with laughter. Mom glares at Dad. She must have told him not to bring this up.
“We’ve recently learned some valuable information on an invasive plant, delysum, so I ordered our scholars to review our existing research for a few other plants,” Kie explains. “They reserved several books, and while you’re free to read them in the library, they must remain available for research.”
Dad nods, seemingly finding that excuse acceptable. “Well, can you tell me when they’re available to take home? The library chairs hurt my back.”
I open my mouth, prepared to tell Dad that Kie has more important things to do than sit around monitoring some random books, but Kie’s sudden grip on my thigh stops me.
“I will,” he says. He’s as much of a suck-up as Mason.
