Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(25)
For now, I’ll just steer clear of Faelan. Which leaves the vapid Aelia as my companion and clarifier. And she’s even less helpful than Faelan was. I can only hope that Marius will have actual answers when he comes to dinner tonight. That can’t happen soon enough.
TWELVE
SAGE
We’re sitting on the couch in the den, within sight of the dining room and the entry hall, waiting for Marius to come home. Aelia is looking at her nails like the secret of the universe might reside in her cuticles. I’m trying not to let the avalanche of questions in my head crush my brain. The uniformed maids are going back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room to set the table.
I’m more than a little relieved when I hear footsteps echo from the back hall. Marius enters the room, and Aelia leaps from the couch and tackles him in a hug.
“Daddy!” she squeals like a little girl. She leans away to look at him and asks, in all seriousness, “What’d you bring me?”
He pulls her close again and kisses the top of her head. “Well, my Lia, I found some lovely Russian nesting dolls.”
She droops. “I wanted Prada.”
“They belonged to the last czar’s daughter. A secret note was hidden inside, written in his own hand.”
She pulls from his arms. “I still say lame.”
He chuckles. “Of course you do. Perhaps next time I’ll find something satisfactory.”
“How long will you stay with us?” she asks.
“Only for dinner. I have work to do.” He looks up at me. “How are you settling in, young Sage?”
Aelia answers for me. “She’s fine.”
Before Marius can ask me to elaborate, a woman enters the room, and he turns to smile at her. I’m a bit surprised—I didn’t realize anyone else was in the house, besides the cook and maids. She walks over to his side and presses into him, kissing his cheek softly. “My love, we’ve missed you.” Her hair is long and golden blond, and her dress is like something out of a glamorous nineteen-fifties style magazine, tightly fitted and glittery with a slit on the side that reaches nearly to her hip. Is she having dinner or going to a casino? “Do you really have to go so soon?”
“I’m afraid so,” Marius says, then he motions to me. “Have you met our new arrival, my dear?”
The blond woman flashes me a glance but doesn’t fully look at me. Instead, she turns and searches the space behind Marius like she’s expecting someone to come in after him. “Well, sure, but where is that young man you said would be joining us? The one with the blue tattoos?”
Aelia rolls her eyes. “Gods, Mom.”
Marius frowns at the blond woman—his wife?—like he doesn’t understand. Then he looks to me again. “Is Faelan not here for dinner?”
I consider how to explain. “Well, he—”
Aelia cuts me off. “He’s resting. Big day with the newborn and all. Training and whatnot.” She hooks her arm into his. “Let’s eat, Daddy. I’m starving.”
I glance sideways at Aelia and try to figure out what’s going on. Why is she lying? And should I let her? Aelia is the last person on earth I want to side with, but Marius seems pretty powerful—I don’t want him to think I’m against him in any way.
When we’re all sitting around the table and I see the family together, my stomach turns sour. I’ve seen a lot of different family dynamics over the years, living in too many foster homes, some with legitimate kids mixed in with the loaners, and some with a full gaggle of bastards and orphans clustered together in less space than these people would probably give to a dog. But this trio takes the cake with the tension and weirdness.
Obviously, the blond woman is Marius’s wife and Aelia’s mother, but the only life or awareness she’s shown was when she perked up about Faelan. Since then, she’s defaulted into some sort of Stepford woman. It’s a lot creepy. Those vacant eyes and perfectly curved smile—it’s like someone told her to grin three weeks ago, and it’s still there, stuck on her face.
Her name is Barbara, and there is a resemblance in Aelia—the same nose and cheekbones. And perfectly glossy hair.
Marius is at the head of the table. He’s wearing a white dress shirt and gray slacks, like he just came out of a business meeting. Over the past several minutes he’s made small talk with Aelia and let her chat his ear off about some event she’s planning. I have to give the man credit: he seems genuinely interested. A careless observer might think he’s pleased with his fake wife and vapid daughter, but my guess is he’s only got that stoic look on his face because he knows that he’ll be leaving us all behind in a half hour or so.
At one point he clears his throat and directs his words to me. “How are you settling in so far?” he asks. He cuts into the thick steak on his plate, the center of it a bloody red. He glances up at me as he takes a dripping bite, waiting for an answer.
I push a piece of lettuce with my fork and try to think of a way to answer him and not lie. Luckily, I’m practiced in half-truths. “I’ve been resting, mostly. And hanging out with Aelia.”
“You two seem to be getting on well,” he says, surprise in his voice.
“Well, of course, Daddy,” Aelia says. “She’s beyond special. A real princess.” It’s an odd thing to say. And she gives me a look that has some sort of hidden message in it, but I can’t tell what it is. Don’t dime me out, maybe? Is she bribing me with flattery? She’s picked the wrong girl for that.