“Careful, Lady Laurentis.” His response was simple, pointed to the extreme of a threat, whispered with a measured level that shrugged away the show she was providing.
A simple warning to anyone that wasn’t her, but for her had a number of possible meanings. She got so caught up in the double meaning her actions so often presented as part of the game that she sought out the hidden meaning in everyone else.
Careful of what? Careful of taunting him with her offer, whispered just between the pair? Careful of calling his bluff? Careful of riling Etharan by inciting jealousy? Or careful of something else, something she probably shouldn’t dance around but was just beginning to skirt the edge of?
When the doctor disappears through the doors to examine her ailing father, she does exactly as was expected of her and presses her ear up against the door, listening in until the rushing sound of water pouring into the sink drones out the sound of their voices. At that point she turns away from the door and heads for the small sanctuary on the estate grounds, leaving a maid behind to inform the doctor of her location once he was finished. Her father was in familiar hands, at least. Quite possibly overjoyed to see the young man again after so long, and at his daughter’s behest. He would see that as a victory all on its own, she was certain.
“You have a daughter, and I have two sons. Let her have her pick between the two. The legacy we could build together would surpass anything that’s come before, Victor.”
She could remember how pleased Samuel Brethil had sounded with his idea as she stood just out of sight on the other side of the door they’d left ajar.
“Lius would be the natural choice as your heir. You’ve sent him off for schooling?”
“The best money can buy.”
“Certainly the natural choice.”
They’d allowed her the mercy of choosing between the two Brethil boys, a decision they’d later grow to regret. It became apparent fairly quickly that while she and Domoth got along just fine, there wasn’t much of a spark between the two. In some ways he reminded her of her brother, and in time she grew to treat him as such…most days. Lius, the ever accomplished doctor with the startling emerald eyes became the hope of their fathers’ dreams, but was so often absent due to his studies.
Then had come Etharan Almasi to fill the void. An up and coming officer, twin brother to Domoth’s friend, and direct competition for her brother. Cocky, arrogant, selfish, but in all of the ways that paired so well with her own negative qualities. Driven, ambitious, dauntless in all the same ways as she. He was charming, capable, and he understood her on a level that was nothing shy of complete compatibility. They saw things the same way, held a lot of similar opinions, two people cut from the same cloth.
What would he think of her if he learned she hoped the experiments on her father failed?
Prayer would be expected of her, and so she falls to her knees before the altar and lowers her head slightly, but her mind settles in a far darker place, sorting through the various possible outcomes facing her.
She had been the apple of her father’s eye, but not his focus. They’d placed all those apples in her brother’s hands and watched him fumble every one. It was a point of bitterness growing up, knowing that she was more capable than her brother and being overlooked anyway. The embarrassment had reached a point she could no longer tolerate, pushing her to find a means to an end.
If they’d only chosen her from the start…
She’d known when she’d asked Lius to experiment on her father that there was no hope for him, a certainty that he was lost already. A year, perhaps more, which would give her time to forge the necessary documents. As for her brother a constant stream of women and liquor could be provided for him on her behalf. To help him through his difficult time, of course.
“No one understands me like you do, sister.” He’d say, and she’d smile and coo and coddle him as he had always expected, secure in the knowledge that he was right, no one would understand him like she did. She’d made sure of that.
The women she could send to Lius after for special care to ensure there would be nothing that came of their dalliances. The last thing she needed was a whore’s brat with half a claim getting in her way, and in this way she could control that.
Pieces on a chess board, always moving, a never ending game she was too used to winning. When Lius finds her on her knees before the altar she’d be the picture of innocence, a concerned daughter praying for the health of her father.
Tears would be expected, and so as she rises to her feet and turns to face him and the dour news she allows her eyes to swim with moisture until a couple tears manage to work their way free and slip over the swell of her cheeks. Grief would be expected, and so she reaches out to brace herself against Lius’ arm as though the thought of what she faced made her dizzy. None of the emotion she displayed across her face was reflected in her eyes, however. There lay the calculated calm of one who had made up their mind towards a bitter end. She allows the image of grief to drive her further into the doctor’s arms, allows them to appear the picture of one facing a great loss and one offering condolence to any onlooker.
It was easy enough to pretend when she’d spent a lifetime being groomed for moments such as these. It was easy to plot and plan, but when all was said and done one lingering question prevailed - did she want to be alone?
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