Daddy was persecuted. Two of his brothers were executed. Countless other people suffered under the People’s Republic, and from the papers it looks like I think that’s funny.
Before I can explain, the front door opens and closes. A moment later, Wraye appears in the doorway, slightly out of breath. She’s dressed in a white silk shirt that’s knotted at her throat, a pale blue pencil skirt and matching blue stilettos. Her blonde hair is arranged in an elegant chignon. I barely recognize the poorly dressed, unpolished and funny girl who I befriended just a few weeks ago.
“I came as soon as I read the papers. Aubrey, are you all right?”
The diamond engagement ring glints on her finger. Three years younger than me, and she’s going to be my stepmother. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
“I just thought—”
“I’m fine. It’s just me riding a horse. Yes, it’s Varga’s horse, but I don’t understand why every paper in Paravel had to print it. Aren’t you supposed to be giving them real stories to write about?”
Wraye’s just started running the press office at the palace. I wish I hadn’t done it, but no one can possibly think that I condone what Varga did, can they?
Wraye looks hurt, but she continues in the same gentle tone, “Of course they were going to print it. You don’t understand, but it’s not your fault. You weren’t raised here. The Chairman would ride that horse through the streets on every national holiday.”
“I know he rode Onyx. Cassian already told me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daddy tense at the sound of a man’s fist name on my lips, and I wish I’d said “Mr. Bellerose.”
“It wasn’t just that,” Wraye says. “Four years ago, a group of student protestors ran in front of Varga and Onyx, holding up banners and shouting. They were angry that they’d been thrown out of university because someone in their family had criticized the government. That’s what it was like then. You couldn’t say anything negative about Varga or your whole family would suffer.”
“What’s this got to do with anything?”
Wraye takes a deep breath. “Varga kicked Onyx into a gallop and rode right at the students. Three of them were crushed to death. No one was allowed to remove the bodies, and the whole parade trampled the corpses.”
I swallow hard, feeling sick. I felt that powerful horse moving under me yesterday and saw his enormous hooves. What a terrible way to die. “It’s not Onyx’s fault the way he was used. He’s just a horse, and horses need to be exercised.”
“Someone told you to ride Onyx, didn’t they?” Daddy asks. “They knew how it would look, a Levanter up on that horse. I’ll find whoever it is, and they’ll be severely punished.”
“No, I—” I’m drowned out by a commotion in the hall. Someone’s come through the front door and is stomping through the house. The butler is making polite bleats of protest, but, suddenly, the door is flung open, and Cassian Bellerose is framed there, teeth set, breathing hard. His blue eyes blaze out of his tanned face. He sees me, and his gaze travels down over my satin-clad body to my bare feet and back up again. I pull the neck of my robe tighter together, acutely aware that I’m not wearing a bra and my nipples are showing.
“I brought your horse back,” he growls at me, before turning to go. “She’s out front.”
Daddy steps forward. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”
Cassian stops, giving him an insolent once-over as well. “Cassian Bellerose.” Then, as an afterthought, he adds in a snide tone, “Your Grace.”
“There’s a tradesman’s entrance at the side of the house. Did you not see it?”
Wraye winces at Daddy’s words, and quickly says, “That’s very kind of you to bring Cinnamon back, Mr. Bellerose. I’m sure Aubrey is grateful, seeing as you must be so busy.”
“You didn’t need to bring her back,” I tell Cassian. “I’m not moving stables over this.”
“Yes, you are,” Cassian replies.
At the same time, Daddy shouts, “You’re not keeping your horse at those stables any longer.” He brandishes a paper at Cassian and says, “You put my daughter up to this, didn’t you? Did you think it would be funny to make my daughter notorious?”
Cassian’s chest inflates, like he’s getting ready to yell right back at Daddy. Everyone needs to calm down. I don’t care what the papers print about me; I just want to ride Cinnamon. I go to Cassian, put a hand on his arm, and lead him out into the hall.
“Let me handle him,” I say in a low voice. “You just go, and I’ll see you at the stables tomorrow.”
Cassian yanks his arm out of my grip. The tips of his ears are an angry red. “Why are you talking to me like we’re friends?”