"Edward!"
I said nothing.
"You're the only one mother's worried about anyway. She doesn't care what I do. Just turn a blind eye this time, Jacob. No one else has to know."
I stared at the knife plunged so indecently
within my breakfast; my napkin innocently soaking up the sauce.
Was this not divine retribution? A small
smile—
I hid it quietly behind my fingertips. Go. Yes,
go! His antics would certainly be discovered—
And father couldn't ignore such obliviousness this time!
After all, to be found mocking the Royal
Family was not a simple matter.
Our nine generations could be executed. For contempt. Treason. Sedition. Rebellion!
Because father had enemies. Because they wouldn't stand idly by.
Yes, father couldn't ignore such a colossal matter. And Edward would be the cause!
Would I not get the satisfaction of seeing father's face contort as their mother pleads helplessly upon the floor?
It wasn't theirfault. Truly.
Edward…was Edward. He quickly forgot our
differences in the face of boredom.
We'd find ourselves picnicking outside when
we were younger; the breeze coolly caressing the bared skin of our legs as we roasted in the sun.
But when his mother found out, Edward's face blotched candy apple red. Then paled painfully, viciously white—
I didn't hear what was said that day. Perhaps it would have been better had I heard.
But thereafter, he slid his eyes from mine. Never again did we bathe in the sun. Never could I trust him again…
Because they weren't the heir. Because I was their enemy. Because I was born weak. because I held nothing.
The potential for cultivating was far, far from my reach…
And when Melvin died, did anyone mourn? Half brothers though we were, I mourned.
Perhaps father cried. Perhaps…
But father didn't defend him, either. When
they mocked him. Shamed him. Buried his body and laughed at him!
It was only after Melvin's death that Edward
found me again. Why?
I had slapped his hand away when he gingerly patted my shoulder from behind—
We had stood there. Looking at each other. And the silence, it lasted a long, long time…
But something strange now peeled from Jacob's back like smoke—
"Edward."
My lungs burned. My heart hurt. And the feeling in my legs went numb—
Falling—collapsing—my skin, it was burning—!
An overwhelming—
aggressive energy—
Moaning. It sounded like mine but my eyes were dizzy—
The pulsing—
The squeezing—
A staccato scream—
And something like lightning spat and crackled
above me—! I was scared. It—
Was scary.
But I couldn't see—!
"You—!" Jacob screamed.
"Hah—Don't think—ah—ha—you're the only one—with a—aura!"
My hands were covering my head. I heard it, a snapping—
Something cracking—
My forehead was sweating and my ears were burning and the air was raining an angry, violent crimson—
Edward's body fell before me; blood
sprinkling his clothes like sweat.
But the table wobbled as Jacob slammed his hands hard against the wood, stabilizing himself.
Edward hurriedly climbed to his feet. And
stood right in front of me. "I'm—not done yet—Jacob!"
"What are you trying to do, Edward?!" Jacob shakily ran his fingers through his hair.
"I'm leaving this god-forsaken House for just
a few measly hours, damnit! I don't wish to die alone like Melvin! I regret—"
I wheezed loudly. And he stilled.
Slowly, his fists clenched. And he didn't speak again.
His back, how stiff! Was he aware? Of Melvin. Of me. How could he?!
Or perhaps he just didn't have enough courage to finish what he was saying…
That'd be more like him. Merely a coward hiding.
A vicious smile. "Go if you wish! But I will be telling father."
"Run to mother like you always do, Jacob. You
never do anything new."
The door slammed behind Jacob. And the
tension, it slowly, gradually eased…
Edward dragged out a seat and sat upon it. "Stupid. Stupid!"
He smacked his forehead against the tabletop and groaned. "Why didn't you say anything, Ethan? Why—didn't you stop me?"
I dragged myself shakily to my feet. And took my seat once more. "As if anyone could stop you but yourself, Edward."
At least the table hadn't overturned. But the bowls and platters were now messy; the tablecloth wrinkled and askew. I ignored the spilled wine and crumpled handkerchiefs, the scattered utensils and pitchers, and took a gulp of water; my hands still shaking.
Grabbing my knife, I ate. And ate. And ate; my stomach already full to bursting.
But it was my punishment. I could never step
between them as any Heir should. I had no aura to speak of.
I held none at all.
I stared into the empty glass. And turned my eyes.
Edward sighed. "Why is it always like this? I
just—" He laid a hand against the table and pushed himself from the seat. "I just wanted to go back, Ethan. To what it was before…"
I said nothing. What did we have to go back
to? Melvin had died. And everything had changed.
I would never go back to that innocent me.
He—
Would never find me.
"I'm…going, Ethan. There's nothing worth repressing myself for anymore. You, too, should break away from this. You
know what father's planning…"
I pulled back my chair. "I do," I said, standing. "But what's that go to do with you?
"They're taking away your place! Shouldn't
you—"
"And what?" I took a clean knife. And clenched my jaw.
"What are you—?!"
I slashed the knife into my palm; the skin
splitting and revealing the fresh red now puddling on the floor.
The squelching pain—
The blood that fell like wine—
And my eyes that tinted a darker, harsher blue.
I raised my hand. And swore. "Melvin…He was my blood." The red dripped against the tablecloth like thick, thorny vines.
"He knew the disparity between us. What father's favoritism meant for us. But he stayed beside me regardless of the ill
treatment and rumors; the servants' eyes ripping into him like claws—" I tightened my fist. And squeezed.
Edward gasped watching me.
"This, I swear! I, Ethan, Heir to the Kysan
House, will no longer hold this family in high regard! Respect? Love? It means nothing in the face of power!"
I let the blood run. And stared him straight in the eye. "I won't forget. I won't forgive."
He flinched away from my eyes. And clenched his jaw.
This is my will. I won't be kind." I said; the blood staining my skin like dye. "Father, too, can't stand in my way."
A fleeting, pleading look.
But I ignored it. And drained another glass of wine.