Chapter 87 Apologize first

Chapter 87 Apologize first
BRYNNE
Soma was almost on the verge of guessing the truth. She’s right about me using her, but that is only half the truth. I enjoy being around her, not only because she calms me or because I want to know what about her triggers my flame. But I enjoy her presence. I enjoy getting lost in those clear green eyes, counting the freckles on her face, and watching her fight herself before each surrender.
I stare at my hands, remembering how warm they grow each time I hold her. Soon, the next full moon will be here, and I’ll have my answers. Or not. Not if she keeps pushing me away.
An apology, huh? She won’t get one, but I’ll touch her again. Her threats were just words, as we’ve seen.
A buzz from the bed snaps me out of my thoughts. I pat the surface until my fingers graze the phone hidden under my pillow. Father’s name lights up my screen, and I try not to panic. Heading to my study table, I open my laptop to connect with him on a larger screen. He prefers to see our faces while we talk.
The laptop takes minutes to load, but soon, Father’s face appears on the screen. He tries to smile, but that only highlights the lines across his forehead and at the corners of his lips.
We have only been gone for about five weeks, but he seems to have aged within that time.
“Brynne,” he greets. “How’s the girl?”
Father still calls Soma the girl because he hasn’t fully accepted her. I’ve long stopped fighting it because I know there’s something there. Be it the mate bond or an unnamed connection. It exists, and instead of fighting it, I’ll embrace it to get what I want. Which is to learn how to wield my flames.
“She’s fine,” I tell him.
He rubs a hand over his eyes and sighs softly. “We must conduct the ritual this month. Lilith continues to insist the girl is your Luna. Though I still have my reservations, I’ve come to terms with it. But I need to know if she’s more to you than just a Luna to the pack.”
“Don’t worry, Father. We will find out soon,” I say to reassure him. My fingers drag across the edges of the laptop, and my foot bounces on the same spot. I’m as curious as he is, or maybe more so. My curiosity is as thick as my fear. “Is this why you called?”
“No.” He exhales, and I tense. “Tristan wanted to speak to me about something, but I directed him to you.”
“Me? Why?”
“You’ll be king soon,” he mutters, like it’s happening this year. But we both know a few more drills await me after the academy. “It’s time you started handling some of these issues alone. Consider it part of your training.”
Every aspect of my life is a training leading up to the day I ascend the throne. Nothing in my life is done for fun. As much as it sucks, it’s become normal. But something in his countenance worries me. He never allows me to handle these matters on my own. Sometimes, he shares the court’s verdicts or asks for my opinion, but the final decision has never come from me.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Of course, Brynne. I’m certain. I trust your decision.”
Instead of assuring me, those words only fuel my doubts. We don’t come from a family that dishes out praise this easily. When Mother was alive, there was a balance of praises and castigation, but she has been dead for so long that his criticisms are all I remember.
“Is everything okay at home?” I whisper.
“Yes. We’re doing well.”
A tingle of unease pricks the back of my neck. I stay calm, but my mind runs wild. Father must be hiding something, and I’ll only be able to verify that when I return home. Our next break is two weeks away. Two weeks too far.
“Keep me updated about the girl,” he says. “Good luck with Tristan.”
The screen goes black, and I stare at it for a moment, processing nothing. If there’s anything bothering him that he can’t share with me, the best I can do is settle this matter with Tristan, so he has one less thing to worry about. As he said, it’s part of my training.
Stepping out of my room, I hesitate on the threshold, half-hoping Soma’s door will open. It’s been five days since she demanded an apology. Five days since we spoke to each other. I’ll need a new set of her panties because her scent has faded from the batch in my possession.
Her door doesn’t open, and I trudge to Tristan’s room. He’s seated at the edge of his bed, with his elbows propped on his knees, and his arms clasped behind his head. His room reflects his personality with the minimal design and white and gray walls.
There’s a couch at the foot of his bed, which I’ve seen too many times. But this time, my eyes are drawn to the three pink cushions on it. Is he finally taking our advice to add a pop of color to his room, or potentially die of depression?
I slump onto the couch and drape my arm over the back.
“Hey,” I say. “Father said you wanted to talk to me.”
Tristan lifts his head, emotions flickering across his face before he hides them behind his usual blank expression. He seems different, or maybe I’m over-analyzing everything after the call with Father.
“Have you and Soma patched things up?” he asks.
Not like there’s anything to patch beyond his unwanted nosiness and her constant denial of how much she needs me in her life. He’s spent the last few days locked in his room after lectures, but each time he sees Soma, they grin at each other like two best friends. But I’m certain he’s not fucking her. His feelings for her are platonic at best.
“How’s it any of your business?” I reply.
“She might not know you care, but I do,” he begins. The air shifts, and I sit upright, balancing both feet on the rug. He flexes his fingers, and I notice how red the tips are. But that only happens when he’s carving, something he hasn’t done in a while. “I know you found someone to copy the notes she missed and do her assignments while she was unconscious. You even dismissed Jade so you could take care of her yourself. It shows you like her, that you at least care.”
Has her maid been gossiping? Even if Jade has, it won’t be to Tristan. He isn’t the most outspoken guy or a skilled conversationalist, especially with the maids.
“What’s your point?” I mutter.
“If she’s demanding an apology, why can’t you just apologize?”
My jaw twitches. Living with your siblings can be fun, but it also means they are in your business half the time.
“What if she doesn’t want the apology anymore?” I mumble. I know she was only half-serious when she uttered that statement, but he wasn’t there to know.
Maybe if he tells me why it’s so important for Soma and me to be on good terms, I might give the apology a longer thought. But given the silence from her end, will she accept it? It’s hard to tell what she wants from me when she’s actively avoiding my existence.
“Right now,” I continue. “I don’t think she wants anything from me.”
He groans. “What did you do this time?”
“None of your business. Why do you care, anyway?”
“Apologize first,” he says. “And I’ll tell you.”
“No.”
“She thinks you deliberately set her hair on fire,” he snaps. I gulp, momentarily blinded by that memory of her demanding an apology from me for hurting her. She deserves more than my words, but she will get none. “But we all know you didn’t. Isn’t she worth an explanation?”
The explanation changes nothing.
“No,” I say.
“Oh, come on, Brynne. Set aside your pride for once.”
“Pride? You think this is about pride?” The next instant, I’m up on my feet, my hand trembling as I point a finger at him. “I’m not going to tell her about my magic. If I won’t, why bother apologizing? How do I explain the fire then?”
“At least try,” he insists.
“No.”
He clenches his fists on his knees. “You’re hopeless.”
“I didn’t come here to discuss Soma,” I say, putting an end to the conversation. “What’s it you wanted to tell Father or me?”
Tristan rises slowly, his chest heaving as he whispers, “Fuck you.”
I catch a glimmer of tears in his eyes as he storms out, my brows creasing with worry and confusion. He has always been the quieter and odd one among us, but this is the oddest he’s ever been. We’re only a little over halfway into the new month for me to blame his mood swing on the upcoming full moon.
The door opens, and Tristan walks back in. “Get out.”
Sizing him up, I nod and take my leave. Instead of going to my room, I stop at Soma’s door, half-torn between asking her to go comfort her friend or letting him wallow in his misery. My hand closes around the handle, but I don’t twist it.
Soma has been hiding away at the annex, taking advantage of the key I left in her possession while dodging me as best as she can. How long does she think that will last? I’m only staying away from her until the twentieth of this month. Perhaps she’ll miss me enough to reach out. Because I also want to know how my fire will respond to her doing that.
Backing away from her door, I enter my room and grab the phone I left on my study table. I pull out Sienna’s contact and type: I think Tristan is having a meltdown.
She responds immediately with: What?
And I follow it with: Just check on him. Go with Kade if necessary.
When I collapse onto the bed, it’s not Tristan’s sad face I see. It’s Soma’s defiant eyes, her annoyance at me before I kissed both away.