Illusions That May (Court High 2)

I mean, I was in his place, on his turf and doing exactly what he wanted. Realizing that, I did start to go out more, keeping to myself as I passed staff and stayed in the more dormant areas of Windsor House. That proved easier to do as people didn’t tend to go above the first couple floors and I was on the fourth. Over the captivity, I decided to start taking the walks I did do with Hershey out on the property a bit. This was nice because since it was so cold, people didn’t go outside, but I found myself liking the cold. I never thought I would, despite the name my parents had given me, but I felt myself at home in it when my boots crushed ice and snow. Hershey made it even more fun to enjoy. Especially when it snowed. She liked to run and play in it, not the only dog at Windsor House. The guys had a ton here, like literally all kinds of breeds. They mostly ran around the House, but sometimes I’d catch a groundskeeper playing with a hound outside. That happened today, and after letting Hershey tire herself out with the other pup, we took our walk back to the House. We usually liked to walk through the stables because, well, this place had fucking stables. They were heated and everything, a nice way to put some warmth back in the two of us before going back to my prison. Hershey trotted happily all the way through, but the pair of us stopped suddenly at the sight of another up ahead.

Royal had his own puffer coat on, snowflakes coating the jacket and his blond locks. He wrestled them out of it, his cheeks flushed as he guided a horse back into a stall. The horse sprinkled with snowflakes too, the pair had clearly gone out for a morning ride, but he stopped when a man came charging into the stables.

I recognized the man as his dad.

Hershey and

I stayed back, and I hunkered down, keeping the puppy by my side.

“What’s this?” his dad asked him, some kind of paper in his hand. He wore a long wool coat, black gloves on his hands and a tight scarf around his neck. The scarf resembled the colors of Windsor Preparatory Academy, the school’s blood obviously running deep in him. He started to hand the paper to Royal, but he didn’t seem to need to. Barely looking at it, Royal kept pushing the horse into the stall.

“An acceptance letter to flight school,” Royal said, locking up the stall. He looked at his dad. “But you can throw it away. I’ve got other things on my mind these days.”

Petting Hershey, surprise at what Royal said rattled within me. I obviously didn’t know a lot about Royal, but the fact he desired to go to flight school definitely surprised me. I didn’t know why, though, just surprising.

His dad lowered the letter. “Why do I get the feeling those ‘things’ don’t have anything to do with college?”

Royal started to leave but stopped, his dad’s hand on his arm. His dad braced his arm, actually jolting Royal he had to stop so suddenly.

His dad stared him down. “You had no business even applying for this program.”

“Then why does it matter?” Royal asked, sliding his arm out of his dad’s grip. “You’re getting what you want.”

“Am I?” the man asked, shaking his head. “I checked, Royal. Dartmouth, Yale, and even Harvard haven’t heard from you, and your acceptance letters came over a month ago.”

Royal said nothing, but I noticed his hand, a dark glove clenching and unclenching at his side. His dad was rattling him, getting to him.

His dad got closer. “What are you trying to pull? Do you know all I’ve sacrificed for you? All I continue to sacrifice for you? If you did, you wouldn’t be playing these games.”

“Why don’t you tell me, Dad?” Royal said, different than how I’d seen him with his dad before. Last time I came across them he looked almost fearful of him, but today, today he was standing up to him. Royal shook his head. “Tell me exactly what you’ve sacrificed for me.”

His dad didn’t need to say… because he hit him, actually hit him and not some tap. His dad struck him, socked him across his jaw with the force of a man to an enemy, and that blow sent Royal down clear to his knees.

“Royal!”

Everything stopped, the pair looking at me as I charged over with my dog at the lead. Royal’s dad didn’t even move, watching me, and Royal himself did too, his eyes wide as I got to my knees with him. The blow had charged his face a hot red, and when I attempted to touch him, he moved away.

Soft green irises ignited like emerald fire, Royal’s gaze leaving me and shifting to his dad.

His dad lifted his chin. “I recognize you. Rowan Lindquist’s girl, right?” He looked at Royal. “Is she staying here?”

Royal moved his jaw a little, his nod subtle as his gaze averted. How quickly he’d gone back into a shell beneath the man before him, the position of power shifting. It pissed me off, and even though Royal wouldn’t let me touch him, I stayed close. I didn’t know what I could do, but I wasn’t leaving his side.

His dad pocketed a hand. “Change that,” he said, and before I knew it he was crinkling up the paper, the acceptance letter to flight school. He tossed it at Royal. “And get rid of that. I don’t want to hear anything about it again.”

He started to walk away, but Royal said his name, a soft but present, “Dad…”

It was enough to make the man turn. He wet his lips. “You’ll do what I say. You owe me at least that for taking your mother and sister away from me.”

My eyes widened, but Royal closed his lips, looking away. His dad charged into the winter air, and when the stable closed, I reached for Royal again.

He didn’t let me, standing.

“Royal—”

He whipped around. “You get off on watching shit like this? Spying on me?”

I had before, seen him before with his dad. I approached. “Of course not.”