Siege of Shadows (Effigies #2)(69)

Rhys shrugged him off. “You mean I need to learn obedience. That’s what Dad said before he shipped me off to Greenland.”

“Guys, come on, not here.” I was scanning the room nervously because the last thing I wanted was for this spat to end up on national news. “Just relax, all right?”

But neither boy was listening to me. The muscles tensed in Brendan’s neck. “There’s nothing wrong with obedience,” he said quietly. “We are part of the Sect. We come from a family of specially trained warriors. Obedience is just part of discipline.”

“Dad’s fists sure did their best to brainwash you to believe that, didn’t they?”

Brendan froze.

“Oh, I forgot.” Rhys gave him a lopsided smile. “He was only ‘training’ us.”

Brendan couldn’t respond. He was looking at me now, his face tense, his lips frozen in a part. He was terrified I’d understood what Rhys meant. And I had. I turned to Rhys, my throat tightening as I studied the fury in his eyes.

“Stop it. This isn’t the time or place,” Brendan whispered.

“You were jealous all these years because you thought he’d sent me to Fisk-Hoffman because I was . . . what? More worthy than you? No. He was pissed I didn’t break. At least, not as fast as you did.”

Brendan flinched as if he’d been spit on, his shoulders drooping, his head shaking as he struggled to keep his trembling body under control.

“But I . . . I did.” Rhys rubbed his forehead. “In the end . . . I guess I did break after all.”

“Aidan—”

“Forget it. I only came here because Mom asked me to.” Rhys turned his back to his older brother.

“Rhys . . . Are you okay?” I asked. Without thinking, I pinched his sleeve around his elbow to pull him back, but the moment he looked at me, my heart jumped and I withdrew my hand. For another silent second, we were looking at each other, mouths agape with the words that seemed to come so much easier when we didn’t have to speak them to each other.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before slipping away.

Brendan and I stood in awkward silence.

“Um,” I started. “Brendan—”

“Forget what you heard,” he said shortly, and then following his brother’s lead, he went off in the opposite direction.

“Great,” I muttered.

I could still feel the touch of Rhys’s hand against mine, which only made the ache in my chest that much more unbearable as I squeezed past dignitaries and ducked from the flashes of cameras. It was all too clear now why Rhys resented his father. When Dad was alive, the worst he ever did was ground me and June or take away our television privileges. I just couldn’t imagine it. The thought of Rhys being hurt, and at such a young age . . .

A security guard watched me as I passed through the entrance of a corridor populated by yet more patrons. “Anderson, checkpoint four, all clear,” I heard him say behind me, his comm scratching in that familiar way. I kept my head down, hoping nobody would recognize me, and it almost worked—that is, until I nearly crashed into one of the servers. We didn’t connect, but in an attempt to avoid me, she slipped and fell back. The tray of food she’d been holding slid backward off her right palm and crashed against the white staircase behind her. Thankfully, we were both in a corner, away from any of the dignitaries and cameras.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Her cell phone, tiny and black, had clattered against the floor near the food, but it looked okay. I bent down to help her pick it up, but she plucked it off the ground herself.

“Nah, nah. It’s all right.” Her American accent was somewhat bizarre. “Oh, and thank you for picking this up for me.” She waved her phone before slipping it into her pocket. “I’ve been waiting for a call.” She scratched the back of her neck.

She was average height and very pretty, though her green eyes were almost too big for her small, heart-shaped face. Her nose was pointed to a tip, and her hair was such a rich, deep shade of red, it was almost crimson; she kept it at the top of her head in a carefully crafted bun tied together with black string. She straightened her black pants and white tuxedo shirt.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

I moved to take the platter from her, but she waved me away. “Nah, it’s fine.” As she slipped her left hand into her pocket, I caught the glint of something between her fingers before they disappeared inside. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie.”

She grinned, scratching her neck again, just as my phone began ringing.

Nodding reluctantly, I stood and answered it. “Yeah?” I zipped up my bag with my other hand as I stepped away from the server.

“It’s Belle.”

“And me!” Lake piped up after her, though her voice sounded farther away.

“And me.” Chae Rin this time. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time—hey, put it on speaker.”

“What’s up, you three? Where are you?”

“The elevator,” Chae Rin said. “On our way to the hangar. We’ve been called on a quick mission in Scotland. The Sect are anticipating an attack—not a Saul mega-attack, mind you. More of a bite-size phantom rumble in the countryside. It’s just busywork.”