Page 21 of Summer

“I had a plan,” he grinds out.

“Of course you did,” I say placatingly.

He narrows his eyes. “I liked it better when you stared at me stupidly and did not speak,” he says.

“Ah – and all this time I wondered if you were indeed related to Gennelle. That solidified it,” I say with a smile.

We regard each other for a moment before I stick my hand out. He stares at it, confused. “On Earth this is how we seal deals – we shake hands. If you help me to fake my death and escape, I will go along with your plan. I will do everything I can to convince your family that we are madly in love, so that you may take whatever length of mourning you see fit.”

Aaoric is silent for a moment before extending his hand as I have, though he doesn’t touch mine. “I promise to help you fake your death and do everything in my power to get you safely off this planet and back to Earth…”

“Not Earth,” I interrupt.

“…to get you safely off this planet and to…wherever you so want to go. I will do my part to make our love believable, while still being a gentleman and maintaining your reputation.”

I almost roll my eyes. If he knew the reputation I had before Protegre, he wouldn’t be so concerned. I push my hand into his, clasping his fingers between mine. He tries to pull away, but I tighten and pump his arm twice.

“This is a shake,” I chide, squeezing his fingers extra hard as I do so. He lets go with a wince.

“Then it is sealed,” he says.

“Tomorrow we shall start pretending to like each other,” I say with a smile.

He smiles back, but the corners of it flicker. There’s a reason Aaoric doesn’t want to get married, but I’m afraid to ask him just yet. I’ll find out soon enough; it’ll be the only way to make our betrothal believable.

10

GENELLE

Something is wrong with Aaoric.

The last three days, he’s joined Summer and I for breakfast, an event he typically misses in favor of sleeping until noon. The first morning, he’s at the table before either Summer or me. If she’s surprised to see him, she doesn’t let on. I, however, flinch when I walk through the door to find him waiting for us.

“Sister,” he greets, as if it’s just another morning.

“Brother,” I return, my eyes narrowing. When Summer enters, he stands and pulls her chair out for her. This gives her a moment’s pause before she sinks into it, offering him a smile that turns my stomach sour.

“Thank you, my lord,” she says demurely. She is all manners and grace, hiding the fact that she called me a spoiled child just the other day. I’d been meaning to bring it up to Father, but he was away at one of our factories to supervise an expansion. If I said anything to Mother, she’d likely punish me for idle gossip.

Aaoric excuses himself after breakfast, and I don’t see him again until the next morning at breakfast. It is the same thing – he comes early, stands when Summer enters, pulls out her chair for her. She makes small talk with him – asks after his hobbies, his interests. While he can’t always meet her eye, he at least answers her questions.

When we stand to take our morning walk about the estate, he volunteers to act as her guide. Then he extends his arm to her, leading her about the estate while I trail behind.

The slight is more than I can stand. I am too far back to hear their conversation, but I do hear Aaoric bark a laugh every so often. What could they possibly be laughing at? Summer isn’t funny or charming. She’s rude and uncultured.

The third day is the same, and I am left to stew as they walk together, their familiarity growing. It wouldn’t be proper to give them privacy, so I must follow. I am not cruel enough to pass the job along to Sessaly, though it does cross my mind once or twice.

Father returns home that night and watches Summer and Aaoric interact with a perverse pleasure. He casts Mother knowing looks as she watches the two, her eyes narrowed.

“You two have grown familiar,” she accuses.

The servant passing through the doorway freezes, a look of horror on her face at the accusation. I inhale a sharp breath, my fork frozen halfway to my mouth.

“Mother,” Aaoric hisses in Tatinnish.

“Glenada,” Father says at the same time, a rare moment of using Mother’s real name.

Summer lowers her eyes to her plate, her cheeks red.