Lydia.
Two of the robed seniors pulled me to my feet. They didn’t handle me roughly this time. Their touch was hesitant, almost respectful.
They led me to the center of the room where a single wooden chair had been placed. Braden stood waiting for me, his arms crossed over his chest. He was trying to look imposing.
“Sit,” he commanded.
I sat. The wood was cold against my back. I felt every eye in the room on me. The nervous pledges, the posturing seniors, and Dante, who remained a quiet shadow in his corner, observing everything.
Braden circled the chair slowly, like a cartoon villain. “So. The tough girl who slips her knots. Did you think we wouldn’t notice?”
I didn’t answer.
“I’m talking to you,” he snapped, stopping in front of me. “What’s your name?”
“Lydia,” I said. My voice was even.
“Lydia,” he repeated, tasting the word. “And why are you here, Lydia? What makes you think you deserve a place in The Obsidian Circle?”
“You gave me an envelope,” I stated simply.
His lip curled. “We invite many. We choose few. This society is not for the weak. It’s for predators. Are you a predator, Lydia?”
I met his gaze. “Are you?”
A flicker of anger crossed his face before he masked it with a condescending smile. “I’m the one asking the questions here. This is an interrogation. The point is to find your weakness. To break you.”
“Then start,” I invited.
The smile vanished. He leaned in close, lowering his voice. “I know your type. The quiet girl who thinks her silence makes her mysterious. Strong. But inside, you’re just as scared as the rest of them. Scared of not fitting in. Scared of being a nobody.”
“Is that what you’re scared of, Braden?” I asked.
He recoiled as if I’d slapped him. “This isn’t about me.”
“Isn’t it?” I asked. “This entire performance is about you. You need us to be scared so you can feel brave.”
“I am brave,” he insisted, his voice a little too loud.
Chloe let out a small, bored sigh from the sidelines. “Get on with it, Braden. This is getting dull.”
Braden shot her a furious look before turning back to me. His composure was cracking. It was so easy. Like snapping a twig.
“You come to my house,” he said, his voice tight. “You defy my orders. You disrespect my authority. And then you have the nerve to question me?”
“I haven’t defied any orders,” I said calmly. “My ropes came loose. A flaw in your system, not my character.”
“And him?” Braden gestured wildly towards Dante. “I suppose that was a flaw in the system too? Three of my best men on the floor.”
“I can’t speak for him,” I said. “But it seems your best men aren’t very good.”
A few of the pledges gasped. One of the seniors took a threatening step forward, but Braden waved him back.
“You think you’re smart,” Braden hissed, leaning over me again. “You think you have this all figured out.”
“I have you figured out,” I corrected him. “That’s all that matters in this room.”
“Oh yeah? And what have you figured out?” he challenged, a desperate sneer on his face.
I let my eyes drift down to the heavy, gold watch on his wrist. “That’s a beautiful timepiece. Patek Philippe. Very expensive. A gift?”
He was thrown by the question. “What? Yes. My father.”
“Your father,” I said, my voice soft. “He has good taste. Is he a powerful man?”
“He’s one of the most powerful men in the country,” Braden said with a surge of pride.
“I’m sure he is. It must be difficult. To live up to that.”
The color drained from his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you? The constant pressure. The impossible standards. The feeling that no matter what you accomplish, it will never be enough. It will never be what he accomplished.”
“You don’t know anything about my father,” he whispered, his voice shaking with rage.
“I know the type,” I continued, pressing the advantage. “Men who build empires and expect their sons to be gods. But you’re not a god, are you, Braden? You’re just a boy playing games in an observatory.”
“Shut up.”
“This whole society. The secret handshakes and the silly robes. It’s a kingdom you built because you’ll never inherit his. It’s a way to feel like him. To feel the power he feels every day.”
“I said, shut up!” he shouted. The entire room was silent, watching him unravel.
“Does it work?” I asked, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “When these freshmen tremble in front of you, do you finally feel like you’re enough? Does it make you forget for one second that in his world, you’re still just the child at the dinner table?”
That was it. The final blow.
He stared at me, his blue eyes wide with a mixture of shock and pure hatred. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. The confident president was gone. In his place was a wounded boy who had just had his deepest, most private insecurity laid bare for everyone to see.
“This is over,” he finally choked out.
He turned on his heel, his movements stiff and jerky.
“The initiation is done for tonight! Everyone get out!” he yelled to the room at large, not looking at anyone.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He just stormed out of the observatory, slamming the heavy door behind him. The sound echoed in the sudden, deafening silence.
Chloe stared after him, then her gaze shifted to me. There was no mockery in her expression now, only a kind of stunned, calculated appraisal.
The pledges were whispering frantically, their fear forgotten, replaced by awe.
One of the seniors grunted. “Okay. Uh. You heard him. Everybody out.”
They started untying the other pledges, their movements clumsy in the aftermath of Braden’s breakdown. No one approached me. They gave me a wide berth, as if I were something dangerous. Something venomous.
I stood up from the chair and walked back to my place against the wall, melting back into the shadows. The show was over.
My eyes found Dante’s corner of the room.
He was still there, leaning against the wall, separate from everyone else. He hadn’t moved during the entire exchange.
He was watching me, just as I knew he would be. And as our gazes locked across the suddenly crowded room, I saw it clearly.
A slow, appreciative smirk was playing on his lips.
