Page 174 of House of Roots and Ruin
“Julien never cried as a baby. Not once. He would just stare about the room with those giant, expressionless eyes. I can’t tell you how many nursemaids we lost, unnerved by his unblinking gaze. Only when Viktor pitched himself into a fit would Julien stir. It took me longer than it should have to understand what was going on. No one ever expects their children to have such…”
“Variations?” I suggested.
“Deviations,”he corrected. “On his own, Julien is harmless, but with Viktor…they spur each other on toward madness.”
“What do you mean?” I remembered how they often seemed to communicate without words, one entity sharing two bodies.
“Viktor has always been rage and wrath, quick to fits of anger and violence. Once, he set the nursery curtains on fire. We’d thought one of the maids had been clumsy with a taper but it was only Viktor, wanting a bit more milk before bed.” Gerard wiped the back of his hand over his forehead.
I pictured my nephew Artie. He was not much older than the boys when they were cast out. When he didn’t get his way, his howls could be heard halfway across Highmoor. “He was achild. Maybe you should have taught him that it was wrong to use his…gifts,” I said, mindful to choose a word that wouldn’t further upset Alex, “in such a manner.”
Gerard stared at me, deadpan. “He was six weeks old. He nearly burned down half the manor. After that, we kept the pair of them from Alexander. It was too risky to keep them together.”
I remembered Viktor on the rooftop garden, the look of fury, of being just heartbeats away from losing his grip on everything.
Any desire I had to defend him dried up.
“I shouldn’t have lumped them together,” Gerard admitted. “It forever changed Julien. Having Viktor’s thoughts—those terrible thoughts—constantly saturating his mind…” He shook his head. “No one should be forced to live that way.”
“Do you truly believe me the monster in this story?” a voice asked from the back of the room.
My head whipped around. Viktor stood on the threshold, arms folded across his chest. He wore dark navy pants, a white shirt, and a gray vest, an exact match of what Alex had on.
“Who was the one who sent poor little Julien away to live with such a madman?” He stepped into the study, locking the escutcheon behind him with a casual flick of his fingers.
A hidden door at the side of the room swung open and Julien stepped out, dressed in the same clothing, making them a perfectly identical trio.
Constance was wrong. There’d been a secret passageway all along.
He crossed over to sit on the edge of the desk, dangling his legs back and forth with a strange childishness as he stared down at his father. “Hello, Papa. Remember me?”
Gerard swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily. He nodded. “Ju-Julien.”
“Very good,” he said. His lips rose, showing off a line of teeth. It looked more of a grimace than a smile.
Viktor’s eyes wandered about the room with unchecked curiosity. “I always thought this room was so large and important, the seat of Father’s power and might. Now it just looks”—his gaze fell on Gerard and he grinned—“terribly, terribly small.”
Gerard’s nostrils flared, anger flashing across his face as he studied the son he hadn’t seen in fifteen years. “Verity, I want you to take Alexander away from the study. Get him out of here. I will deal with these two on my own.”
I felt rooted to the floor, unable to move as I glanced from Gerard to each of the boys.
Even still, Alex swatted in my direction, keeping me at bay. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Bravo, little brother,” Viktor commended, slowly clapping his hands together. He sank into one of the armchairs. “Finally showing Father your spine.” He made a face, crossing one leg over the other. “Poor choice of words, my apology.”
“He’s not actually sorry, you know,” Julien confided. “He’s laughing quite a bit in there.”
Gerard studied his oldest son with awe. “What wonderful things we could have done had that one not ruined your mind.” He sighed. “What an absolute waste.”
Julien’s stare was flat and chilling. “Don’t talk to me of waste. It’s my mind. My life. You were the only person who could explain what was going on within me. You knew I was different. You knewhowand you knewwhyand you still sent me away withhimand all thathethinks.”
“There was no saving you,” Gerard said sadly. “No saving him. It washisfault you were sent away. Remember that!” He whirled round on Viktor. “Every angry impulse, every selfish thought, your envy and hate, your rage and wrath. They consumed you whole, bursting out until the rest of the world suffered as much as you have. I should have smothered you the second I realized what I’d created.”
Viktor leaned forward, irises all but aflame. “But you didn’t, did you, Father? Does that thought fill you with shame and despair? Do you ever think how the world would be, if you had? Does your conscience keep you up at night, wondering what sort of glorious things the golden boy would have achieved had it not been for me?”
Alex’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What…what is he talking about?”
Viktor rolled his eyes. “Did you know that yours was the only birth they ever celebrated? Who could blame me for stealing out of my chambers? I just wanted to share in my brother’s special day. The golden child’s golden birthday.” He doffed the back of Alex’s head, ruffling his hair.
