Page 50 of A Dead Man's B-Side
My words fell on a blunt tone, and I was well aware of the etiquette of asking an elder their age, but again, I couldn’t find myself caring.
Thaddeus’ eyes slid to me menacingly, but I only dropped my eyes to his ring with an innocent raise of my brows. He seemed to find my insinuation suddenly amusing as he answered, “I am in my late thirties. But I prefer not to go into specifics. Makes me feel old.”
When no more questions followed, Thaddeus decided to make his point clear, and only then did August shuffle back inside, “Let me elucidate the next steps for you. Tonight, return to your dorms and draft a list of questions. In our next meeting, I will dedicate ten minutes to answering them. Now, where was I?… Ah, yes, The Founder’s Society, to be blunt, is a cult of sorts.”
Called it.
“And though I, myself, found it outlandish in my own Castle Hill days, the benefits outweigh all else. You were selected for your skillset. A skillset the board deems worthy of nourishment.”
I rested my hand, the one behind Paris, against the side of my head, which pulled me closer into her strong perfume. I hadn’t intended to choke on it, so I turned my head to the back of the room and cleared my throat to the best of my subtle ability.
I was surprisingly viewing this entire ordeal with an indifference I hadn’t known I had. Or perhaps it was a strong sense of desensitization.
Thaddeus continued to monologue, as he promised, “I would suggest, as this group will be spending the better part of their last year, and for some of you, their first, at Castle Hill, that you spend as much time in each other’s presence. Knowledge is key, as is teamwork. From this day forth, I don’t want to hear any bickering, fighting, or even simple insults thrown at one another. You will remain loyal to each other and only to each other. Am I making myself clear?”
His tone had turned serious, and something told me his words were spoken out of experience.
Thaddeus had said he was in his late thirties. He’d also said the board recruited every twenty years.
If his father died no less than forty-eight hours prior, Thaddeus Saltford-Windsor was now a board member. And unless they preferred to outsource the nourishment of the Founder’s Society’s members, something must have gone horribly wrong when he had been sitting here twenty years ago.
“This Society recruits students every twenty years, as I’ve stated, because those successors will one day sit on the board.”
Chapter Nine
Alexandr Miroslav
1982
It was Rain Atlas Jett who jolted and spoke with thinly veiled disapproval, “Someone like August Myro would be considered deserving of the prestige that sitting on the board entails? Wouldn’t the board find it… preposterous?”
Thaddeus didn’t seem the least bit surprised by her views, considering her hereditary standing on said board.
I knew she’d only chosen August as her victim, when she’d much rather turn on me, because I was being sponsored and August wasn’t. Though I still hadn’t found it fair.
August, with all his stupidity, was bold and intelligent.
To a certain degree, of course.
Though, it wasn’t the boy in question who replied, and neither was it Thaddeus, “And why would you think such a thing?”
Rain directed her calm expression towards me and almost seemed to internally debate dignifying me with an answer before speaking, “Simply put? The board has long since upheld the standard of rightful inheritance. Deviating from that notion would cause a break in the trust and allegiance held firm between its members.”
While I contemplated her words and found she’d had a point, she continued, “There are rules that must be followed. Unwritten rules for those that understand them and uphold them.”
She’d spoken the last part in a patronizing tone, so cunningly masked, only I noticed.
“The board has personally selected August Myro. What weight do your words hold advocating for the very system whose decisions you’re criticizing?”
That seemed to shut her up, but only barely. Her calm expression remained, though with pursed lips into an understanding smile.
Thaddeus, only then, decided to step in, “Although I understand your frustration, Miss Jett, though my views do not align with yours, the board believes it is a new era. One is better protected when focused on skill rather than blood and name. Would you much rather someone such as Callum Queen be sitting here with us today? Sure, he has the grades, he has enough brainpower to think at least a few steps ahead, but he does not fit what the board is seeking. The legacy of your name simply does not cut it anymore. The world is changing, and although we cling to the old ways, we understand that to survive, some things must change with it.”
I vaguely remembered Callum Queen, the same boy who’d sat back while his lackeys held August down in that hallway a while back. Or, it felt like a while back, although it’d only been a couple days ago.
Despite that short interaction, he didn’t give himself a likableimpression. The only thing worth remembering was that deeply unsettling cruelty in his eyes and his, even more unsettling, stark white hair.
Rain was more placated with his words than mine, but I didn’t mind. I certainly couldn’t say he wasn’t skilled in the art of diplomacy.
