5. Florian

Chapter 5

Florian

Things have changed.

It didn’t mean anything, not really, but at the same time, I was sure it did. It did to Cove Moonstriker. Perhaps more importantly, it seemed to mean something to Frost, who had raised both eyebrows and stared at his uncle a moment at the pronouncement.

Over the weeks since I’d returned home, Frost had proven to be one of the kindest people I’d ever met. He was...odd. He was tall and beautiful and terrifying-looking, like every Moonstriker I’d met so far—okay, maybe Rain hadn’t been terrifying. Still, he’d carried a dueling sword and held himself like he knew what to do with it.

Anyway, Frost. Frost was also without question one of the smartest people I’d ever met. He knew all the scientific names of the plants in the gardens, and sometimes handed out random facts about things I hadn’t even known existed, let alone been aware of. From the chemical treatment of the wood that made up the dining table to the way the patterned rugs in the halls were made, the man knew things that I’d taken for granted my whole life.

Frost was also nearly as sensitive to the moods and actions of people as I was. He didn’t always seem to understand how people felt, but his eye for the tiniest of micro expression changes was impressive. More interesting, he was willing to ask, not just presume, what an expression meant.

When we’d met, I had assumed that his mother was like Father—that he had to track her moods or else expect to be smacked unexpectedly. Over the last few weeks, I’d started to realize that wasn’t it at all. It was that he felt like something was wrong with him. That he was an alien creature or a robot deposited with a human family, and he had to work harder to compensate for the fact that his instincts were different from other people’s.

He was like Fawn, in some ways, and it made me like him more.

Also, and most importantly, he was kind to my sister. She liked him. That told me more than anything else about a person, in my experience.

“I’m given to understand that things are very different without Huxley here,” Frost told his uncle, nodding and motioning him in my direction, like they should come to me.

Like...show him around the estate, the Moonstriker had said. Come to kill my father, he’d said.

Did it make me a monster, that the thought was more a relief than a horror?

Oh, I wasn’t so sure anyone was going to be able to beat Father. He had the best luck in the world. He controlled Soz, the luckiest stone that existed. Their luck overwhelmed that of every other bonded stone. I knew it all too well, since even with Navia, father had made my feet tangle up so I’d fall on my face more than once. Just to remind me he could. That my own ability was nothing compared to his.

But the notion that Father wasn’t only my problem? That someone was trying to stop him? That he couldn’t just show up in the house and make someone fall down the stairs because he thought it was funny?

It was a relief, pure and simple.

There was no trace of sadness for the fact that he was my father, my family, and he might be dead soon. Those feelings were reserved for Fawn only. Well, Fawn and Aunt Ivy. And Olivier.

They wanted to see the estate, I reminded myself. I could show Cove Moonstriker the estate. Maybe if I did it well enough, he’d leave Fawn and me alone while he worked on hunting Father down and ending him. If he had enough help, he might even manage to do it. It had become clear in the last few years that Father could only affect the luck of one target at a time. I’d been sure Soz could do more than that, but apparently, I’d been wrong.

That, or Rain Moonstriker had been right when he’d told me about how stones had opinions of their own, and maybe...maybe Soz didn’t much like father.

No one likes Huxley except Huxley , Navia whispered to me, and I had to roll my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling.

She wasn’t wrong.

But Navia and the way she spoke to me should have already told me that of course stones had their own opinions. It was just that Father had always seemed so certain of what he said. It was hard to dismiss his opinions, when I’d spent a lifetime believing everything that came out of his mouth. Or at least taking it seriously, if not believing it. My whole world had turned on his opinions, after all.

I drew myself up, not moving my arm from around Fawn, and motioned to the side of the house. “We were in the garden clipping some roses for Fawn’s room. Why don’t we start there?”

Cove Moonstriker gave a nod, and as far as I was concerned, that was it. I’d...I’d show him around the estate. His estate?

It was odd, to think that.

Sure, someday I was supposed to inherit it, and I should be angry at the thought I wouldn’t, but...

Had I ever truly believed I would inherit the Dawnchaser family and estate? Father’s power? Soz?

Not especially, no. Sure, he’d always said it would happen someday. But he was a healthy man in the prime of his life, and I was a disappointing, meek child. I’d never been good enough. The only times I’d ever gotten his approval, it had been for acting like an ass, or simply for not being Fawn, and that was no fucking kind of accomplishment.

The family didn’t much like me either. Well, the family, by and large, didn’t like anyone. Those who came to family functions both hated father and tried their best to get into his good graces. I’d never envied him followers like that, and I’d tried my best to avoid getting any attention from family.

Wolves, Father had called them to Frost when he’d arrived. More like barracudas. Or...not even that, really. I didn’t think there was anything so malicious or intentionally hurtful in the animal kingdom as my family.

We came around into the garden, its usual beautiful colors and greenery, and I tried to imagine it as a Moonstriker might see it.

I’d gone to college in Moonstriker lands, and they were...they were beautiful. Covered with lakes and huge stone formations that I understood had something to do with ancient history when glaciers had covered the land. But they didn’t bloom like Dawnchaser lands did. Things turned green in the spring and summer, and the leaves were gold and red and orange in the fall, all lovely. But the flowers were always lacking.

Here in Dawnchaser lands, from spring through fall, it was always time for some kind of flowers to bloom. Eight months a year, there were pink and red and white and yellow and orange and blue in all kinds of shades, everywhere. Did it seem beautiful to them? Disorganized? The Moonstriker were famously organized and clever and...well, throughout college, I’d felt as though I was just a little bit lacking. I’d done well and gotten more praise from the professors than ever before in my life, but I’d also felt as though I could never match up to everyone around me. Most of them had been so confident, so assured that they knew what they were doing, and I was always worried I was doing the wrong things.

My psychology professor had told me I was the most insightful student he’d ever had, and that he was sorry I wasn’t going into the field. I’d almost cried, and I hadn’t been sure whether it was because I was so touched at the compliment or horrified because I couldn’t imagine his words being true. Me, insightful. Me, wanted.

I turned, motioning to the gardens. “I don’t know if there’s anything specific you want to see. There are hundreds of acres, so it could take weeks if you want to see everything.”

“Indeed,” Frost agreed instantly. “I’ve been wandering the gardens a few hours every day for the entire twenty-three days I’ve been at the estate, and I don’t think I’ve even seen half of it.”

Cove nodded, but he wasn’t looking at us. He was looking at the roses on the table. He’d gone right to them, staring at the bright velvet-red petals, and reached for one of them.

“There’s thorns,” Fawn said. “You’re not s’posed to touch them.”

He paused, turning to look at her, then to the flowers again. “So there are.” Then, as though he’d done it a thousand times before, he picked up a single rose and the snips I’d used to cut them, and clipped off the tips of the thorns, one by one. “There. All better.”

How the hell had I not thought of that? No, I’d been about to send Fawn off to her room with them, where at some point, she’d have undoubtedly forgotten about the thorns and hurt herself.

Clinging to me with one hand, she took a tentative step forward, looking at the rose in his hand. “All better?”

“No more thorns on this one,” he confirmed, holding it out to her.

She turned to look at me, and I nodded, so she took it from him. Then she tucked her nose into the flower and gave a deep sniff, a smile unfurling on her lips as she did. “So pretty.”

Cove picked up the next, clipping the thorns off it, and another after.

“Are they hurt?” Fawn asked, looking at him with something between her initial suspicion toward someone who seemed to be bothering me and her more usual perfect trust.

“Hurt?” he asked, cocking his head to one side. He still had absolutely no expression on his face, and it was fucking terrifying. What if her questions were making him angry, and in a moment he’d throw the roses down and hit her?

“Hurt. Flor says it’s only like cutting the rosebush’s hair. But I don’t want to hurt them.”

There, finally, was an expression, but not an emotional one. Just a nod and open-mouthed “ah,” like he finally understood. “That’s a reasonable comparison,” he agreed. “The roses don’t feel pain. But growing a rose is a lot of work for a rosebush as well. So when you snip it off, it can put the water and energy it was using for that flower into its own roots and canes. So cutting them off might even be good for it.”

Her green eyes went wide, and she smiled bright. “So we’re not hurting them?”

“Not at all,” he agreed, handing her the remaining roses, from which he’d snipped all the thorns during the conversation. “As long as you only take some of them, and don’t stress the bush, which you clearly have not. Your gardener takes excellent care of them. They’re quite beautiful.”

She hugged the bouquet against her chest, blushing adorably and leaning back against me. “Thank you. I’m...I’m sorry I yelled at you. I thought you were hurting Flor.” Her tone turned back to slightly stern, and she pursed her lips at him, looking like nothing so much as the elderly tutor who’d taught both of us how to read. “That’s not allowed. No one can hurt Flor. Not even if they’re nice.”

For a moment, my tiny fragile sister stared down one of the most powerful men in the world. I could feel Olivier holding his breath at my side, and I was doing the same.

Then...Cove inclined his head to her. Respectfully. “I am here to hurt Huxley. Not Florian. I have no intention of hurting anyone but the criminal who murdered Oberon Gloombringer.”

Her little eyes narrowed, and she turned to look at me. “Who’s Huxley?”

Frost winced, but Cove only waited, looking at me.

“Father,” I told her. “Father is Huxley, Fawn. It’s his given name. Like Auntie’s given name is Ivy.”

For a moment, she considered this. Then she turned back to the Moonstriker. “You’re going to kill Father?” She didn’t ask about who Oberon was, or the murder that had precipitated this situation, just looked for clarification.

“That’s right,” he agreed, casual and calm, like he wasn’t saying he planned to end a life but have a picnic lunch. “Your father killed a man. Someone else’s father. So I’m here to stop him.”

Someone else’s father? I hadn’t thought the Gloombringer had any children, hence his sister taking the role after his death. On the other hand, it was an excellent way to explain it to Fawn. She didn’t understand the twisted way politics worked—or didn’t work—but her sense of justice was always keen.

She went from pursed lips to full on duck lips, her eyes narrowing, and for a moment, I feared she was going to be annoyed with him again. But after a moment, she nodded. “He’s mean. It’s good someone is going to stop him. You can stay. Just be nice to Flor.”

His return smile was small and serene, but also held just a tinge of amusement. It was beautiful and settled something in my stomach. It was a real, emotional reaction and seemed to be a genuine one. Even better, it wasn’t a negative one.

So our lives had gone from being under the thumb of Huxley Dawnchaser to someone else. The new lord of the Dawnchaser Estate, who no doubt wouldn’t ever be leaving the estate or family to me.

Why didn’t that feel like a terrible thing?

Father was going to be so disappointed in me. Oh look, there was all my anxiety, rushing back to greet me like an old friend. Of course it was too good to be true. If Cove couldn’t kill Father, there were going to be hells to pay.