Page 48 of The Brat: Prequel

I always knew Maxim would protect me. But that day he proved himself to me and to the world.

Whether he believes I’m his soulmate or not, I do.

I get to my feet and step over to Camille. Calmly, I curl my arms around her shoulders. She weeps in my embrace and I tut. “Camille, there’s nothing to forgive, but if you need it, you have it. Just don’t lie to me again. Please.”

She clings to me, and I let her. Despite our awkward position, I hold her for as long as she needs, then, when her sobs have reverted to sniffles, I inform them, “I’m going to Shay’s.”

“What? We need to discuss⁠—”

I cut off Inessa. “There’s nothing to discuss. Nothing’ll happen today. Or tomorrow. I’m eighteen now. He hasn’t made his move. He won’t.” Knowing him, he’s waiting for me. “I have homework and Shay wants me to test him on modern history.” I kiss her forehead. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

Her hand clutches mine, but I only squeeze her fingers. “Victoria⁠—”

“It’s okay, Camille,” I soothe. “Honestly.”

She doesn’t believe me. Neither does Inessa.

Before their disbelief irritates me, I give her a final squeeze. “Just to clarify, he doesn’t know if I’ll say yes to marrying him, right?”

“That was the agreement. He has to earn the right to be your husband.”

Nodding, I straighten and walk from the room. Slowly, so they don’t think I’m lying about my state of mind.

Unlike my sedate pace, my brain’s ticking over. Rolling in on itself, folding, picking apart what I’ve learned today, stretching it and expanding, letting me see our family history as if it were a movie rolling before my very eyes.

Power…

What did Uncle Aidan say?

A whisper from a Veronian can make or break a politician’s career, can start a war or finish it. Can appoint a Supreme Court judge or end the life of another head of state. Because the president and this country’s government are theirs to puppet.

Camille’s crying again. I can only hope being released from such a secret is freeing for her.

Hushing her, Inessa comforts our eldest sister. It isn’t the first time I’ve heard that. Inessa was often the one who soothed the cuts and bruises Papa left behind.

Papa. What a joke.

Three little girls urged down a path their father forged for them when they were born.

Three little motherless girls, their only loving parent cut free from the strings tethering them to this world by the bastard who manipulated their lives.

Because the president and this country’s government are theirs to puppet.

That sentence runs laps around my brain.

As I finally reach the elevator, I stare blankly at my reflection in the doors.

“The puppet becomes the puppeteer.”

And as I hear myself utter those words, the decision, I realize, hasn’t just been made as a knee-jerk reaction against my uncle’s heavy-handedness, but it’s been formalized.

Later, I’ll talk to Uncle Conor like Aunty Savannah suggested. I’ll discuss making myself appealing to the Veronians with him—maintaining their interest in me might not be as easy as just showing up and acing classes.

Later, I’ll dream about nobody controlling me ever again.

About making anyone who thinks they can touch me hurt. Not only via Maxim’s hacksaw or as his bride, but through my own links to a powerful collective.

First things first, however…