An Illicit Obsession

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generational friendship that his grandfather and mine had started. It was meant to ensure the new generation understood the

er. Only tradition force

he world I truly live in. It's just another façade, like everything else in my life. This place has always served this purpose. With no real explanation for his request, I decided to humor him. After dinner, we stepped into the garde

hed. I despi

moking in my pre

ian," he replie

e was and who he was with. The cigarette fell to the ground, and he stubbed it out. I looked away, impatient. He seemed nervous now, which wasn't unusual-I'm used to people reacting that way around me. But his cold ey

Tell me about

ho had looked me in the eye and all but scolded me earlier wasn't the same woman at tha

et you've never broug

eserved. No one's managed to draw her out of her shell, and sh

ith her younger sister. Tommen's indifference toward his eldest daughter was glaringly obvious. I clenched my fist in my pocket, noting the affection he seemed to r

e. My instincts went on high alert as I sensed movement at the corner of a wall ab

nd the wall. "Your stepson," I

rt when the board votes

ear-old tradition, which made no distinction between genders, every generation thus far had conveniently produced firstborn sons. By that logi

who cling to tradition, insisting the firstborn Ander

n is a more suitable candidate,

g my eyes for the first time. Interestin

mpires. We need strong leaders to uphold that bond. You'l

ormally, I wouldn't concern myself with such matters, but no

It wasn't the answer he wanted, but he wisely chose

him. As he walked away, a puff of smoke curled fro

e. Rounding the corner, I caught a flash of red disappearing around the next wall. I glance

you're going

de my way to the back door that led to the pool. The pool glimmered under the moonlight as I reached the door. There she was, swiftly shutting it and checking

you,