The girls’ chatter got louder and louder, and they shot looks at Amber that made her shrink back in her chair. But I wasn’t going to defend her. For once, I was going to watch how things played out without my intervention.
My mother and I walked out of the room, leaving the girls in a frenzy. Each one of them was given a tablet to do some research on, and I wondered what the day would reveal. For now though, I was stuck with the Queen – and she looked like she had something to stay.
“We’ll see how that girl handles herself now,” she said, seeming pleased with herself. “We can’t let her get away with everything, son. I know she’s your favorite, but that doesn’t mean she gets to skip out on challenges.”
“Agreed,” I muttered, and she shot me a surprised look. It wasn’t often we agreed these times, and she seemed pleased by the fact that I wasn’t arguing with her. For once, I kept myself in check.
There was a lot of animosity between myself and my mother, born in the year my father died. Instead of flocking together in our time of hurt, we drifted further and further apart, creating a chasm between us that deepened with every nasty remark I threw at her. But I couldn’t help it.
There was anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach, bitterness making me spew my venom at her. She really wasn’t a bad person, but I brought out the worst in her, and then punished her for it. It was all part of the game we played every day.
“Are you waiting with me?” she asked, the hint of hope in her voice unmistakable. “Or do you have somewhere to be?”
“I suppose I could stay,” I muttered. “Since I don’t have anything better to do.”
She flinched at my words as if I’d struck her.
“Let’s go in the sun room,” she suggested. I didn’t respond, just followed her into the glassed-in room with a scowl on my face. The only thing missing from the family fucking reunion was brother dearest.
We settled in wicker chairs opposite of one another, and I watched the woods outside the window with my lips tightly pressed together.
“Olivier,” my mother spoke up gently. I refused to meet her eyes, and she sighed. “I just don’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me this much, my son.”
“I don’t hate you,” I muttered, already switching to autopilot.
“But something’s happened,” she insisted. “Ever since your father died, you’ve been so cold… distant. I just don’t understand what’s the matter.”
“Nothing,” I replied firmly. “It’s nothing.”
“It has to be something,” she said, her voice soft and surprisingly sad.
But I couldn’t let myself get upset about it. She meant nothing to me anymore. Not now that I knew the whole truth.
“Can we change the topic?” I asked.
“I’d really prefer we wouldn’t,” she insisted. “These days, I feel more connected to your brother than you, Olivier. And he’s not even my son, but you’re just… so…”
“So what?” I argued, getting up from my chair and pacing the room in frustration. “Unfortunately, you just don’t understand a thing. And I’m not in a place to explain it to you.”
“What do you mean?” Her eyebrows knitted together in worry. “Is there something I don’t know?”
“Figure it out yourself,” I threw back. “Or maybe Bruno can help you, since the two of you are working this closely on my competition.”
I strolled away and she stared after me with hurt eyes.
“Olivier, please,” she called out after me. “Let’s just talk things through?”
“No,” I replied, my voice echoing in the room. “I’ve done enough talking. Now stop sabotaging my fucking selection and do whatever the hell you do to fill your days. Just stay. The fuck. Out of my way.”
I gave her one last menacing look before strolling out of the room.
“Who’s going first?” my mother asked with a beaming smile, scanning the room. “Come on, who found the best skeleton in the closet?”
“I’ll go.”
I looked at Amber’s mirror image – the gorgeous Dutch girl, Eva, stood up, her hands shaking lightly as she held a piece of paper in her hands.
“Step right up,” my mother replied with a cool smile.
We took our seats at the front of the room, with the other girls behind us. I’d spent the few free hours I’d had in the stables with the horses. Sometimes, it almost felt like I belong there more so than I did on the throne.
How fucking ironic.
Eva took a deep breath, glanced at the sheet of paper in her hands, and started speaking softly.
“I picked Violetta,” she said, glancing at the other girl who stared at her with a heated expression. Her eyes said she was sorry for whatever she was about to reveal, and her body language showed just how scared she was. “I found out Violetta’s family has a history of bullfighting.”
“Which is fairly easy to find, of course,” my mother waved her hand dismissively. “What else, Eva?”
The redhead flushed before she continued to speak.
“But there’s more,” she said as if my mother hadn’t interrupted her. “There’s also a family history of animal abuse in her family.”
The girls stared at Eva expectantly as she faced Violetta.
“Isn’t it true,” she began. “That your family owned a circus when you were younger?”
“Y-Yes,” Violetta responded softly. “I don’t see how that’s-”
“And isn’t it true,” Eva interrupted her, gathering more and more courage to speak. “That the circus was shut down due to the notorious bad care the animals received while they were in your family’s care?”
“No,” Violetta replied, seething with anger. “If you’d gotten your facts straight-“
“I did,” Eva said firmly. “Every news station in Spain reported the crimes, and they were disgusting. Now, is it just your parents who are so cruel, or is it you too, Violetta?”
The Spanish girl’s eyes filled with tears, but Eva showed no remorse for what she was doing.
“Because I seem to recall a certain article,” she went on. “An article that said you shot a bull right between the eyes while in the fighting arena. Your brother was fighting the beast, wasn’t he?”
“You don’t know anything,” Violetta whispered. “You don’t know the real story. You don’t know the truth.”
“I think we’ve heard enough,” my mother interrupted, glancing at Violetta with something between fear and respect in her eyes. “Who’s going next?”
Eva took a seat, the slump of her shoulders the only thing revealing the toll her speech had taken on her.
“I’ll go next,” Violetta said icily. “Since I so conveniently picked Eva, because we are friends.”
“Don’t try to dispute her findings,” my mother warned her. “That isn’t what today is about. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Violetta ground out, shooting daggers at her former friend. “Our friend Eva has a very tragic family history, don’t you, Eva?”