Page 20 of Crown of Steel

There’s no way I’m going to sit here and wait for Arthur tojust show up. After all, I’ve been pretty clear that I don’t need a chaperone and he needs to respect that. He needs to understand that I won’t be menaced, nor am I scared by all their mysterious words about loyalty and traditions. Fuck that shit, I don’t want to be a part of this. I’m no competition and I don’t want to get my heart burnt. I just want to prove to myself and the whole world that I can do it. That I can graduate from Saint-Laurent. But that’s not what’s happening right now. No, I might not know Arthur well yet, but he does come across as awfully stubborn. If he has decided that I am his rival, then I am.

“I’ll come and see you very soon.”Those words are enough to convince me that I should do what I do best.

I’m getting the hell out of here.

Arthur thinks he’s smart, but he won’t know where to find me. Besides, if there’s anything I have learned about Arthur Deveraux, it’s that he’s a fucking proud bastard. He won’t come searching for me in public.

So all I’ve got to do is lay low and stay the hell away from him. And maybe, just maybe, this whole thing will just pass. Good thing I know exactly how to do so.

Climbing out of my window is not as easy as I’d hoped, but with a bit of help from the rain pipe and the soft grass landing at my feet, I’m outside my room in no time. It’s already getting close to seven, so most students will be heading down to the canteen soon. Me, I’ll be on my own outside in the woods.

The sun will be setting shortly, the faintest sprinkle of red glimmering over the large oak trees. It’s a beautiful sight. And right now, with those colors in my face and my fingertips brushing gently at the plants as I make my way through the garden, fresh air invades my lungs and finally,finally, I can relax.

The winding gravel path takes me to the edge of the gardens, from where I can see the football field. A few guys are joggingover the grass, and Jo sends me a wave when I pass them on my way to the woods.

When I turn my back to the college and head for the darker cavity of trees and shrubs, it feels as if the temperature drops. God, it feels peaceful here. Crisp and silent, with the occasional sound of a chirp or a breeze. We’re still in the early autumn days, but this year gifts us with plenty of sunshine. Sand replaces gravel as I follow the path through the trees. The woods are wrapped in brown, yellow and red leaves. Most are still attached to the trees, but here and there they have already fallen onto the ground of sand and moss. I pick one up and hold it against my nose, inhaling deeply.

Flora wrapped around iron.

I start collecting them, piling them up, in an attempt to make a start of my sanctuary. It’s pleasant work, one that keeps my mind occupied without it going into a panic mode. “I don’t need a chaperone. What the fuck do they think I am, a baby?” I scoff against the growing pile of leaves. “I’ve got to prove myself. But I can’t keep them out of my life.” Not accepting this situation means not accepting my studies. And I’m not ready to give that up. Meaning there’s only one solution left. “I’ve got to beat him.”

Moving on to searching sticks of wood, I overthink that option. My fingers tremble when I pile the wooden sticks once more, all the while searching for a place to store them. I’ll first need to find a sheltered place, one that is dry. Gazing around me through the shimmering woods, I don’t exactly find that, but I do find a hole that’s been dug into the ground at the base of a tree. Perhaps a nest of some sort, though it’s empty now. Making sure not to close the hole entirely, in case animals make their way through during the night, I neatly store the sticks on one side and the other. It clears my mind, and when I’m done and even find some space for the colorful leaves, this whole situation doesn’t seem so dire anymore.

“I will show them.” I will show my value to the Deveraux family, even though I’ll need to make it clear that I have no desire to work within their company. Traditions, loyalty, and whatever the rest Jean-Luc mentioned…that’s not really my thing. But if that’s what it takes to keep my place in college, then I’ll show them something. I’ll be the best fucking student Saint-Laurent has ever had.

An image of my smooth talking stepbrother flutters though my mind. “Why him? He’s nasty and arrogant. Why does it have to be him?” The desperation makes me angry. Arthur is rapidly turning into a two-faced fiend with words razor-sharp and fingertips soft as a breeze. His words I can fend off, no matter how intelligent he is. But his touch is another story.

Touch is my weakness. I can deal with pain, with punishments, and have taught myself to endure, to hang in there until agony dims. But the way he makes my core tremble when his fingers rake over my body, has me utterly shattered. Defeated. He’s got to know the effect he has on me, with the way he stares right through me with that smug grin and those golden eyes. With his caressing touch he sucks in all my emotions, undoubtedly storing them somewhere to be thrown back at me some day. To be used against me.

The worst thing? I can’t stop my body. Can’t stop trembling when his hands are on my flesh, can’t stop desire flooding my nervous system when he teases me with that raspy voice. He takes away my mask and unfurls my true identity—the stammering, timid, virgin.

Damn it. Patting off sand against my upper legs, I look at the result. Not bad for a first day. I’ll have to find some equipment as well, but with the professional gardeners Monterrey Castle employs, that shouldn’t be too hard.

There’s another sand trail a little further down, surely taking me further into the woods. I shouldn’t follow it, leave it to tomorrow as I’d originally planned, because it will be dark soon.But then my eyes stumble upon a small garden a little further down that path, and my hesitation slinks away.

Are those…Grabbing my backpack I take a few steps, then curl my lips into a smile. Flowers…I stroll deeper between the trees and take a moment to admire the small garden. It’s small and sweet and brings a smile to my lips. Flowers have never let me down. Green is peaceful, patient, understanding.

Leaves rush gently in the wind, making my mind stop—stop—from spiraling.

Somewhere in the background, church bells chime. Eight o’clock. My stomach tightens. I wonder if Jean-Luc and my mother have finished talking to the twins by now. I wonder how soon is soon.

I walk for another few hundred meters, until where the shrubs part and give way to what seems to be yet another opening in the woods. I look behind me. Yeah, this is a different route from the one I took when I got here.

Inhaling deeply, my lips curl up when I catch the vague, but unmistakable sweet scent of lavender. It’s a herb garden. Yes, this spot will do.

Searching for the source of that luscious scent, I find the small evergreen shrubs with gray-green hoary linear leaves and plop down next to them and onto the ground. Opening my backpack, I grab my dinner for tonight—a few protein bars and a can of energy drink. I also made myself a coffee in the small kitchen we have in our dorm, and though it has cooled down a little the drink still tastes divine—well-roasted with a touch of freedom.

I look up at the castle from my well hidden spot in the forest. Trace its elegant architecture of towers and white stones, its painted decorations where large scorns are set against the walls, lighting up the drawings against the walls. Closing my eyes, I remember Arthur’s scorching gaze from before, his tilted head. What would it be like to have a guy like that kissing me—

“Oh stop it, for fuck’s sake,” I grumble. “It’s a trick, don’t you see?”

Always. A trick.

I take an angry bite of the protein bar, but no matter how harshly I chew, I can’t seem to swallow that persistent, nagging feeling away. It’s something I can’t put my finger on, unfurling right beneath my lashes, but I can’t grasp its texture, can’t seem to estimate its weight. But it’s there. Perhaps it has been ever since I met my new family last winter, when my mother brought me to the Deveraux mansion that very first time. When I was introduced to my two stepbrothers.

The look on his face. On his devilishly handsome, arrogant face.

He called me “Little Régis”, but the twinkle in his onyx eyes wasn’t tender, far from it. No, he took his time scanning my face, looking for flaws, looking for anything that his wicked mind could use against me. I knew then, I just knew. That Arthur was going to be bad news. Bad, bad news.

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