Secret Heir (Dynasty #1)(71)

“What are you doing?” My voice is a ragged whisper and I’m barely able to speak.

He closes his eyes, and touches his forehead to mine.

“I don’t know.” He repeats those words, and it’s enough to draw me out of the trance. I’m aware of my surroundings again and I can see that people are starting to stare. Devon is frowning as he watches us, and Layla looks like she’s about to walk over here and pull us apart.

There are another pair of eyes on me, too, which I don’t recognize, but I think I’ve seen once before. I look over to the edge of the dance floor and find a man with blonde hair, a few shades lighter than Raph’s and amber eyes looking over at us. His expression is neutral, but I sense the displeasure in the depths of those eyes. I can’t place that face, but his attire tells me that he is one of the Dynasty heads. The realization comes to me then that he’s Raph’s father. I recognize him because not only does he share some of Raph’s handsome features and imposing stature, I also recall that veiled look of disapproval from that first ceremony.

I look away from the man and gathering what control I have left, I turn to Raph and step away from him.

“This isn’t a good idea,” I manage to say, although I can hear the tremor in my own voice.

I don’t wait for Raph to respond as I walk away from him and find a quiet corner of the hall to gather my thoughts.

I’m not alone for long though.

“Jazmine, it’s a pleasure to see you again, and settled into Regency Mount so well.” I turn to find Raph’s father in front of me. His tone is pleasant enough, but his words seem oddly hollow.

“Jethro St. Tristan,” he says, holding out his hand. I take it after a moment, although I can feel the levels of discomfort rising inside me. I find myself thinking about that day on the cliff and Raph telling me about his mother’s depression which eventually took her life. How his father, this man standing before me now, hid it, was ashamed of it and cared more about his Dynasty than his own wife. The thought of it makes me sick and it’s a struggle to take his hand without letting the disgust show on my face.

“We didn’t get to speak properly at the presentation ceremony, but you’ve met my son, Raphael St. Tristan? I see you two seem to have gotten to know each other quickly.”

I blink at his words, because I know that they aren’t what they seem.

“Yeah, he’s in some of my classes and of course, we both live at Sovereign Hall.”

“Yes, so you will have seen how unruly he is.”

I stare at him in surprise.

“I’m not sure what you mean …” I reply, tentatively.

“Oh, I think you do. I have eyes everywhere when it concerns my Dynasty.”

I feel a chill race down my spine.

“I’m well aware of my son’s indiscretions—the girls, the partying, the unruly behavior.

“Most of it is his way of rebelling against me. But it won’t last long—Raphael is going to be the king of Eden, his life has been planned for him since the day he was born. He was raised for the throne. His life has purpose, meaning, in a way that you wouldn’t understand.”

I feel insulted by that, although I know the words are true. My life so far has been a meaningless blur, I can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have it all planned out for me the way Raph does. But I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing anymore.

“I must admit that the motion to bring Arwen’s secret heir to Eden was not one that I initially supported. You are half human after all, and being raised on Earth with your background—well, one could only conclude that you wouldn’t belong here in Eden, let alone be suited to the life of an heir to a sovereign Dynasty.”

His tone is diplomatic, but his words are cutting all the same, and I can feel myself bristling.

“But I don’t suppose it matters, because nothing will change the fact that Raphael is next in line to the throne, wouldn’t you agree, Jazmine?”

“Yeah, of course—why would anything change that?” I look back at him in confusion, because I have no idea what he’s trying to say.

Before he can respond, I feel Raph’s presence.

“Father,” he says. He’s wearing that shuttered expression again.

“Raphael. Always a pleasure to see you, my son.”

Raph nods stiffly and I feel a strange tension in the air between him and his father. Everything is so formal, so emotionless.

“I was just telling Jazmine here about how much you’re looking forward to ascending to the throne and how nothing will be getting in the way of that,” he says. Again, his words are full of some other meaning.

I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to anyone so seemingly pleasant and yet so cold. I get the feeling, though, that this is what is required of those in power. They spin a tangled web and their pleasant words are laced with deceit. But Magnus isn’t like this, or at least he doesn’t seem to be.

I catch something like anger flash in the depths of Raph’s eyes. But it’s gone in an instant, retreating beneath that mask of stone.

“Of course,” Raph replies evenly. Not a shred of feeling in his voice. He’s so closed off, that he may as well be one of the stone pillars lining the ballroom.

“And of course, there’s your impending betrothal ceremony to Layla.” The words sound casual, but they are very deliberate.