Page 83 of Crown of Steel

“But does it like…I don’t know, help you to feel better?”

“I’m not sure,” he mutters, then rolls his head back into the curve of my arm.

“You can’t always keep on going back in time.” I’m a little hesitant, but when he doesn’t protest immediately, I continue, “The time has moved on, things have changed, and you are still there. You’re holding onto things that have disappeared.” I squeeze his hand a little tighter as I focus on the way his heart beats furiously against my chest. “It’s time to move on,chaton. Don’t you think?”

He doesn’t look up. Instead, my words bring silence. A tense one. One that can burst into a heated argument at any given moment. But as it lingers, the only sound the beating of his heart between my ears, I decide to give it another push. “Tomorrow we’re going back to school for one day.”

“I know,” he mumbles, making me frown into the dark.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Louis told me.”

Louis…my soft, cocky jock brother who seems to have developed a soft spot for our little stepbrother. The thought makes me smile.

“Alright, so you know what’s going to happen then?”

He shrugs against my collarbone. “I guess. You guys are going to reconstruct an army to relive history?”

“Yes. 1789, the Revolution. Although in your case, I guess it might be your opportunity to rewrite your destiny.”

I can feel his smile against my Adam’s apple. “Yeah, you’ve told me this before.”

“And I meant it.”

This time it’s him who gives me a little squeeze. “Some things…” He swallows against my flesh. “Some things are hard to change. And some people won’t let go, you know? Even if you try hard. It’s like they don’t want to make that lost time, that past you’re referring to, slip from their hands. They want to keep it…keep me.”

“Yeah,” I mumble against his golden curls, inhaling deeply, cherishing his scent. “I know. Just keep on wrenching away, and they’ll eventually let go.”

“I hope you’re right.” His breath tickles my flesh, and goosebumps scatter around the delicate skin of my clavicle. He mumbles some more words, but they get lost against my flesh. I’ve heard them though. And they make my chest swell and bring a stupid grin to my lips. Who would have thought?

Mon coeur.

My heart.

PART III

CONCESSION

“Allons enfants de la Patrie, le jour de gloire est arrivé!”

Two rows of lined-up uniforms stood tall and proud in the cool forest. Apart from the faint brush of the wind through the treetops, and the sound of rustling fabric, no one spoke. They’d been prepared before, during their pledge. Pupils had turned into brothers, masks had been taken off and tension had slowly melted into relief. Students, they were students. Just students.

Now they were all here, outside, set up as an army. For the occasion, or for the thrill they’d put on their Venetian masks again, the glorious colours somehow matching the soldiers’ hungry, determined gazes. Because in front of them, out there, in the pitch-dark, were the red cloaks. Exclusive sex workers who performed the role of commoners. What once had been played out, would have a different outcome today. Tonight, the elite wouldn’t falter.

In front of them, the hint of movement, followed by a flick of dark red.

“Aux armes, citoyens. Formez vos bataillons…”

Monterrey Castle had become their safe haven, and had provided everything from shelter to a breeding place for the Alpha Fraternarii. And tonight, with their new brothers fighting at their side, they’d win the war.

“Marchons, Marchons.”

They’d beat the stubbornness out of those who’re supposed to obey, not to reign. They’d make them bend, then stumble to the ground. And then they’d show them who was in charge.

Réinvention.

Alpha Fraternarii, the most powerful brotherhood in France. We. Rewrite. History.

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