Page 93 of Crown of Steel

When we walk into the presentation room, two hosts by thedoor in our navy-blue uniform colors greet us. Where one of them guides our family to where Louis and Dominique are already waiting for us, the other one walks us toward the front of the room. The other participants are already waiting, seated in order of presentations. I count ten of them. This is going to be a long night.

Turns out, it is. Most of the other presentations bore the fuck out of me. Me and Régis got separated when we were seated earlier, but when it’s my little stepbrother’s turn, I find myself leaning forward, fog leaving my brain while my eyes see clear again.

Régis’s presentation is … spectacular.

Everything from the way he magically makes his appearance strong and confident, to the subject he introduces. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before, since he clearly hasn’t chosen the conventional delivery. Rather than solely making use of PowerPoint, Régis hands out cards with texts and includes his audience, and even the board, in a clever way. Judging by their occasional surprised looks from behind their thick, metal glasses, the board shares my opinion.

Sitting behind the row of older, powerful men, sits Mister Montague. Alone. He has been there the entire evening, but I haven’t given him much attention. Until now. There’s something in the way he looks at Régis. His wild mop of strawberry blond hair has been slicked out of his face, making his forehead and the pair of glasses he wears on his nose, more prominently visible. He’s older than I first thought. If I’d have to guess, he’s somewhere around his mid-thirties. Still, he’s an attractive guy.

As Régis quizzes the board with a series of rhetorical questions about different classes and the way that these have blurred over the past decades, Mister Montague’s lips widen into a smile, and he nods his head absentmindedly, clearly engulfed in the topic. My nostrils flare at the thought that he might see the same beauty in my little stepbrother as I do, that he may try toget in my way of completely and wholly claiming my kitten, despite it being more than a challenge to do so. But when I flick my gaze to my family, there’s something else there. Or should I say,someoneelse. Louis. Wearing my identical glare as he stares at Mister Montague. If looks could kill…

Blissfully oblivious, Régis strolls around, taking a few steps toward his PowerPoint presentation to underline a few words he put there in bold.

Goals.

Passion.

He reads them out loud, his voice a little shaken with emotion. “Our regular schools don’t teach us how to identify our goals. How to describe them first, then structurally, step by step, work toward them. They don’t teach us how to turn our feeling of passion into a weapon.” He takes another few steps, until he’s standing right in front of the board. “A weapon that creates the basis of everything. The reason why we want to succeed in the first place. Why we want that mansion by the sea—” His eyes dart to mine, blue irises turning a fiery shade darker in those few seconds we stare at each other. “Or that spacious penthouse in the city. We need our own, personally forged ammunition as guidance through our life. Through which we can braid knowledge that we have been fed with at schools, a way to actually make those dreams become true.” He points toward the screen, then looks into the room.

“Goals and passion. Add education, and perseverance. That’s another one that we’re not taught enough at schools. How to be determined, how to work for our goals. For our passion. Students have become too sloppy, filling their free time with social media and gaming, teachers have become too lazy in motivating them to make the difference—” I suck in a deep breath and the room falls eerily quiet when one of the board members raises a hand.

“This is very impressive, Mister Deveraux. But this prizefocuses on Saint-Laurent, and how we can make this college more innovative.Ourworld.”

Oh, fuck. Not good.

Régis swallows heavily, eyes darting between the board members, before they land back onto those who spoke. “Education concerns all of us. Education is the basis of a healthy society. It is the most powerful way to decrease crime rates, to fight racism—”

“Again, Mister Deveraux. How does that affectourworld? The situation you so accurately describe is an issue public schools need to deal with. Yes, I agree, our students need passion. They need to be taught how to activate their knowledge of determination into one that is layered with numbers and analytics. But your description of our surroundings is not correct. You clearly have no experience with private institutions before you started your career.” Someone sniggers around us, a soft, mocking sound that makes my blood sizzle.

“There’s nothing wrong with a student questioning world education,” comes a voice from behind, firm and fair as always. Dad.

“I would like to finish my presentation,” Régis grates. “I would like to thank you all for your attention and presence, and hope that my topic, and my quality of presenting it to you, has been sufficient to qualify for the beautifulPrix d’Honneur.”

Only three of us can win tonight’s qualifications, the final competition taking place in spring. But here’s where it gets interesting. We are all brothers here, with three of us coming from powerful families. Four, if you include Régis, which I don’t think the board will. Blood separates us, thank fuck for that.

Looking back at my family, I catch Louis’s glare. He’s sitting between Gaël and Nathalie—families are seated in the back of the room—and both my brother and cousin have a peculiar tense look on their faces.

They want Régis to win.

I can feel it. Can feel Louis’s connection inside my own heart. Because despite their different ways of showing affection, they’ve grown to like my little stepbrother, despite him trying to snarl and claw at everything that comes too close. Perhaps he has more in common with us than he thinks. Because while we keep our inner circle a place of love and affection, we keep emotionally clear of practically everything and everyone that falls outside of that warm place.

Someone claps from behind me, and when I turn over my shoulder, I see that Dad has moved to stand. It’s a standing ovation. One that is immediately picked up by Louis, Nathalie, Gaël and Dominique. It makes my chest constrict with the weirdest of emotions.

But fuck, do I love my people.

I want Régis to be part of my people too.

He’s been in his bedroom for way too long, and it makes me feel all sorts of fucking ways. Apparently I’m not the only one, because around me, hanging on our couches, slumped beneath our black, silky cloaks, are Gaël, Dominique and Louis. We sit there in silence, listening to Régis crying inside his room. That sound…it’s fucking constricting my insides, rolling them forcefully up into a ball that sits in my throat, like some big motherfucker I can’t swallow away. I hate it.

“He did really well.” Gaël finally says, watching as he rolls his mask between his thumb and index finger.

Louis nods. “Yeah, he did.”

“I couldn’t have done that,” Gaël adds, and once more, the other two mumble in agreement.

“Even Monatgue told Régis that he was impressed,” Dominique says, and again, they share a hum of agreement.

“Yeah, well, he was never going to win those qualifications,” I snarl. The others blink at me. Annoyed, a brush a hand through my hair. “It’s an interesting topic—”

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