Page 137 of Sonnets and Serpents
His father remained on the other side of the study, regally composed, hands clasped behind his back.
It was only when his mother sent for a tray of refreshments that his father finally spoke.
“He won’t be staying long,” Lord Bennett said.
Eliza didn’t bother to conceal her scowl at the man. Court manners would have required an impassive expression, like the one Silas’s mother now wore, but Eliza preferred honesty.
As did Silas.
“No,” he agreed. “Just long enough to say what’s necessary.”
His father’s nod approved of the direction he thought this was going. “It’s about time. Your attitude in recent years has grown increasingly dismal, and I’m pleased the banishment seems to have been sufficiently humbling. If you have aspirations about regaining your title and inheritance, you’ll accept strict requirements, beginning with a prestigious marriage arrangement. Marquess Haskett’s daughter is a fine target, or perhaps the spare princess, if you can be trusted not to squander a second opportunity at a royal connection.”
Eliza nearly threw back her hood, but she restrained, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
Clearly trying to be delicate, his mother said, “Silas, dear, your friend is lovely. Is she here ... visiting family?”
Silas ignored the question, addressing his father. “Keep the title, Lord Bennett. I know what it means to you. I came for only one reason. Since it’s no longer a death sentence, I can be honest about who I am.”
He transformed in a puff of mist.
In control as he was, he did it quickly, just long enough to make the point. The silence in the room was thick as ice, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet Maggie’s eyes.
Silas could have left it there.
He considered it.
But he thought about Kerem and the easy path to bitterness.
To his father, he said, “I forgive you for believing what you were always told about shapeshifters. Now you know it was all wrong. Moving forward, I hope you can see me as a son, but I’m not going to follow requirements or leap hurdles toearnyour love. I’m either enough or I’m not, just as I am. You decide. I’ll be myself either way.”
Glancing at his mother and sister, he added, “If you have any interest in finding me, I’m a professor at the university here. I’d love to show you what I’m working to create.”
He bowed, and then he turned away, taking Eliza’s hand as he walked.
The new queen’s wedding was the biggest celebration Silas had ever attended, and though he desperately wanted to slink off to some corner of the castle with a book, he stayed in a dressing room with his best friend, dodging servants and tailors. It should never require so many people to get dressed.
“I thought you’d have a quiet wedding, Gill. Something in your lemon orchard.”
Gill held perfectly still for the tailors, but he smiled through the mirror. “Can I ask you something? Why do you insist on using ‘Gill’?”
“You don’t have more pressing questions on your wedding day?” Silas smirked, then looked away. “When we met, you told me everyone had called you ‘Baron’ since you were six. I asked what they called you before that.”
“And then you took up ‘Gill’ without any further explanation.”
“Because I wanted to pretend I’d known you all my life, and if I had, I would’ve been too stubborn to change your nickname when everyone else did.”
The tailors finished their work, leaving Guillaume Reeves dressed in a white suit trimmed with red—the royal colors of Loegria. The dress sword at his hip had been handed down through the royal family for centuries and looked too delicate to actually swing.
“Since I’ve known you all my life,” said Gill, “I can say with confidence that it will be you under the tailor’s pins soon.”
Silas felt ill at that. Marrying Eliza was one thing, but looking at Gill in that red-and-white costume, all he could think of was joining the royal family, a family that had persecuted magic users for centuries.
“They branded you,” he said quietly. “Now you’re joining them.”
He meant it less as an accusation and more as a question for his best friend of what path he could possibly take.
“I would choose different in-laws if I could,” Gill said frankly, “but not at the expense of Aria.”
