Family dinners, Tyki thought, were getting worse and worse.
After Marian Cross's appearance in China, the Earl spent several hours on the phone in his study, and then suddenly rooms that normally went unused were being made ready. Tyki couldn't imagine how it could possibly be convenient for the others to come home. Martin was an engineer and Thomas was a judge. Felix was a violinist and Mason was studying to become a barrister. All of them were too old or injured to compete, or they would have been called home with Skin. Now they were being summoned for no reason at all.
It might not be so bad for Thomas. He was the twins' father, and he didn't get to see them often, but it could do real damage to the others.
"I have good news," The Earl said.
"Yes?" Lulu asked politely.
"Winston is coming home. His father was able to arrange a leave of absence from school."
Wisely. Tyki felt his blood run cold, and he wondered how much Martin had to drink before he made that call.
"What?" Road stood, leaning over her plate. "Why?" She scowled, as if she was taking this not just personally, but as a punishment.
"It's nothing to do with your performance, Road. I just thought we could use his unique talents."
"Allen is mine!" Road slammed both fists down on the table, and Tyki blinked. That wasn't the cry of a girl with a crush. It was the cry of a warrior claiming the head of a rival.
The Earl laughed. "Oh no, dear. It's not about Allen at all. It's Kanda. You see, he can beat Tyki…"
"No, he can't," Tyki said, although after that performance in China, he wasn't so sure.
"Yes, he can. He's been holding back for reasons of his own, but if he decides he wants to, he'll win. I want Winston to make sure that never happens."
"Does he have to dance?" Road asked, a dangerous edge to her voice.
"Of course," the Earl said. "There's no reason to have him backstage unless he's dancing."
"I don't want him dancing," Road said.
"My dear! You have nothing to worry about. You'll still win."
"That's why I don't want him dancing. I don't need him interfering with Allen," she said. "I can win by myself."
"I understand, dear. I'll say something."
Tyki wasn't sure if that would help, but Winston Campbell's special talents were as well-developed as they were because he used them indiscriminately on any target he could find.
"You'd better!" Road pouted. "Allen won't be any fun at all if Wisely interferes with him."
"Why are you so fascinated with that boy?" the Earl asked.
It was a question Tyki very much wanted answered himself.
Road giggled. "Because he's good! It's so much more fun to win against someone who's good! That's why Wisely can't touch him. I don't want any of Allen's goodness spoiled."
"Very well," the Earl said. "I will forbid Wisely from so much as looking at Allen. Oh, and I think I've heard enough of Kate Bush for a while."
"But I like Kate Bush!" Road protested. "And I only got to do one song!"
"I know, dear, but I've had enough. Find something else for Paris."
Tyki watched as Road's fists clenched.
Apparently, the Earl saw it, too. "Remember that you want Winston to do as I asked, so you must, too."
Road's fists didn't unclench. "Can you make him leave Allen alone?"
"I promise," the Earl said with his most placid smile. "Now sit down, Road, and finish your supper."
Quick as a snake, Road's right hand grabbed her water goblet and hurled it. It shattered against the wall, leaving a dark, spreading stain on one of the few empty spaces.
"Road!" Sherrill got to his feet. "Sweetheart, please, he promised."
"He lied!" Road spat. "You heard him. He's bribing me with a lie, and I don't like it when people lie to make me do things." With that, she turned and ran from the dining room.
Her father made to follow.
"Sherrill!" the Earl said. Although his voice cracked like a whip, the smile still hadn't left his face. "Let her go. The more attention she gets, the more tantrums she throws. It's time she outgrew that." He lifted a small, silver bell from the table and rang it, calling in a maid to clean up the mess. "Let's not allow her to spoil our supper."
Too late. What little appetite Tyki still had was gone. Tricia had her face in her hands, and Tyki was fairly sure that Sherrill had his hand on her knee under the table, doing his best to reassure her. Lulu's nose was wrinkled and her lips drawn into a thin line. Jasdero looked about to cry, while David patted his twin on the back, murmuring something in the verbal shorthand they used with each other when they didn't want the rest of the family to understand what they were saying.
If the Earl noticed, he didn't let on. Instead, he lifted his glass as if in a toast and drank, still smiling.
After supper, Tyki went up to his room and opened the drawer with the hidden box. Beside his cigarettes, there was a glass pipe and a decorative enamel box. He grabbed them and his lighter, and took them to the window seat, where he cracked the window wide enough to wedge in a small fan, letting in a gust of cold air as he did.
Inside the enamel box was a clutch of dull, fragrant buds matted with purple. He took a small one, broke it up, and filled the pipe.
The ritual alone was calming, like opening a door for the cannabinoids that wound their way from his lungs to his brain, blurring the sharp edges so they wouldn't cut quite so deeply. He exhaled, blowing the smoke toward the fan, and took another hit, wrapping himself in the chemically-induced euphoria so he could let himself remember.
He was nine when it happened, too young to understand, but still old enough to have vivid memories of raised voices, breaking glass, threats, ultimatums, and then silence punctuated by muffled sobs. He'd learned quickly not to ask questions, just to understand that there was a terrible price to be paid for defiance.
Then Road was born, and there was music in the house again, as she went from a squalling baby to a toddler who would dance on Tyki's stomach if he lay on his back and held her hands so she could keep her balance. As she got older and began to dance in earnest, they could see they had something extraordinary in her, and Tyki no longer thought that the world was entirely cruel.
Now he wanted to shake her, explain to her clearly and unequivocally what would happen if she continued like this, but he knew he didn't have to. She knew the penalties, they all did, but she could not stop herself, and nobody could make her stop without hurting her far more than they were willing to.
Part of the problem was that she didn't seem to care about herself at all, or anyone else for that matter. Spanking her was useless, because she'd throw herself afterward in ways that would do even more damage. Strip her of a privilege, and she'd turn her nose up at it when it was returned. She would test anyone's patience to the limit, even the Earl's, and she was well on her way to destroying her father's marriage. The only person she seemed inclined to protect was Allen Walker, and that was only so she had someone she considered worthy to dance against.
Tyki took a long draw on the pipe. Tricia thought Road was out of control, and maybe she was. Emotionally, she could turn on a dime and as far as Tyki could tell, none of it was fake. None of it was even inappropriate, exactly, just intense. She was right. The Earl had lied to pacify her. There was a reason they'd sent Winston to that school. If the Earl could control him, he'd be home.
If one looked at the world from Road's point of view, losing her temper made sense. She didn't want Winston to break her new toy and she hated being lied to, but at the same time Tyki couldn't help thinking of that dark stain on the wallpaper.
There had been a picture there once. He remembered when it was taken down, when he turned to his mother to ask about it and she slapped him across the face. It was the first time in a long time that he'd been hit, and he stared at her, betrayed. Then she hugged him, apologized, and begged him through her tears to please, please never mention it again.
He hadn't, but he couldn't help wondering if it was pure chance that guided that goblet, or if Road had aimed it there deliberately.