Montague Von Vexx's Arc

Chapter 6 of 11

Montague spoke the name. It left his mouth quietly, without weight, the way a stone slips from a hand. The fire kept moving. Wisteria did not look away. Alastair did not move at all. The silence stretched. Above them, the heavy iron light fixture seemed to grow heavier, every candle steady, none of them flickering. Montague waited for anger. He had prepared for it across two hundred years underground. He had rehearsed every shape it might take. It did not come. Alastair turned slowly toward the mantel and rested one hand on the dark stone. His other hand reached for the crystal decanter and gripped it — not to pour, only to hold. His knuckles went pale. His face did not change. That was the worst part. His face did not change at all. "I see," Alastair said. Two words. Cool. Measured. The voice of a man already three moves ahead, already mapping cellars and old debts and names that would need to be answered for. He did not look at Montague. He looked at the fire. "Thank you for telling me." Montague felt something cold open in his chest. He had wanted his brother's fury, even his blame. Instead he had given him a weapon, and Alastair had already picked it up. The secret was no longer Montague's burden alone. It was a plan now, quiet and forming behind his brother's still face — and Montague understood, too late, that he had just changed what Alastair would do next.