Page 7 of Ashen Torment
He places a hand upon my shoulder. “I see him in you. It gladdens me greatly.”
“I am pleased that someone among us manages to see him, in some fashion.”
He knits his brows, confounded.
“Forgiv—”
A familiar voice cuts through my words.
“Father, do cease wearying Evander.”
Richard appears at his side. He possesses the same green eyes as the Marquess, yet his are alight with that brazen mirth that distinguishes him.
He meets his father’s gaze with a slight smile; the elder man’s eyes widen, his lips tightening in a swift reprimand.
“Richard,” he chides, his voice stern.
He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.
His father turns back to me.
“My compliments once more on the performance, Viscount.”
He moves away, and I hear Richard chuckle.
“Richard,” I whisper, giving a slight shake of my head, “sooner or later you shall make him lose his patience.”
He shoots me a quick look, then glances around.
“I saw your face darken. I simply had to intervene.”
“Your father... is likely the gentlest soul I know. There is no cause for concern.”
“Gentler than I?”
“How very mature of you.”
“Look there...” he says, glancing behind me, “...here come those who would not miss the chance to laud you, dear Viscount.”
He shifts behind me, retreating slowly.
“So, you have decided to slip away. What a devoted friend you are, Richard.”
“I am merely magnanimous, Evander. I am making way for your admirers.”
He continues to back away, before he is entirely out of reach, I see him mouth the words: “It was a sublime performance, nonetheless.”
As my most devoted friend predicted, the other guests approach one after another.
“Never have I heard such a refined performance, Viscount...”
“Your talent leaves one speechless...”
And yet, you continue to speak.
Nods of the head, practiced smiles, faces I cannot distinguish amidst the tiresome hum.
Words overlap, lost between hands that applaud with moderation and eyes that scrutinize me more for the sake of adulation than merit.
