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CHAPTER 17

Amber Marigold

***

Amber needed answers. Dropped off back home, she stormed through the front door without a word. Jessy could only stare at her from the kitchen as she hurried past and headed down to the dark basement.

Alone in the musty room, she grabbed her phone. Her grip felt like it could shatter the device in a thousand and three pieces.

Amber
Did you know about this? A bloodline going after my parents?
18:30

Mr President
Why do you think I'm helping you?
18:30

Amber
Are you behind it?
18:31

Mr President
I did not harm your parents, Marigold.
18:31

The girl cursed out loud. She tossed her phone onto one of the boxes and ran her hands through her hair, combing through knots. She could barely see the easel in front of her and went to switch the light on. When she returned, she grabbed a new canvas as well as a tube of black paint. Broad, forceful strokes took over without a clue of what it wanted to be. She painted until it was all too dark and too empty and too full.

"Amber... You okay?"

The brush slowed. Stopped. She stepped away from the painting, calmed her breathing, and turned to where Jessy stood at the stairs with two steaming mugs.

"I brought hot chocolate. You're home earlier than I expected."

Standing became a chore, and Amber slid down to sit on the floor, head resting against the easel. Her cousin plopped down across from her and handed over the yellow mug. It was warm. She quietly took a sip. Sweet.

"Mind telling me what happened?"

"Jessy..." Amber said after a while. "What if I told you that my parents'... attacker could be someone in this town?"

"What?"

"I didn't stay long because Blake revealed that what happened to them might not be an accident, and honestly, it makes sense." She looked up. "A bloodline was behind it."

"Amber, I'm..." Jessy's mouth opened and closed. The dangling yellow light above cast them in harsh shadows.

"My parents were against them. They stood up for themselves and paid for it. How could I not follow in their footsteps? How could I not avenge them? Maybe all those years of self-defence were for this. They knew a day would come when I had to fight back."

Jessy shook her head but asked, "Do you know who did it?"

"The East is my biggest lead right now."

Her cousin exhaled, shoulders loosening up.

"Do you need my help?"

"Not this time, Jessy. Regarding the dumb bet, I'll still have you to count on, but my parents... are something else. I don't know where this path leads me, and I can't risk taking you with."

"And you can't... forget about it all?"

Amber looked up and held her cousin's stare. She did not need to say it. The answer was in the burn of her gaze.

Finishing their hot chocolate, Jessy offered to help with homework, and the girls went into a study session. She later explained she had to take her mom to the city on Monday and would not be able to attend school. Amber said it was fine and that she could manage on her own. In fact, this turned out for the better.

The next day, while the sky was still dyed a dark indigo, Jessy and Aunt Tessa left. After a quick jog, Amber took her time getting ready for school. The thought of taking her Illion weighed on her, but an even bigger problem pulled in. A sudden honk came from the front of the house. She pulled up her woolly stockings and threw on a floral dress before checking who it was. A matte black car stood waiting.

Mondays really were the worst.

Amber crossed the front lawn and walked over just as Blake got out and lit himself a cigarette. He blew a puff of smoke.

"You ready?"

"To kick your ass?"

"To go to school." He rolled his eyes.

"The hell I'm going with you," she said and turned around.

"Hey, I offered to help, didn't I?"

Amber stopped. She turned back and glared.

"Sorry, but I'm having a hard time trusting bloodlines right now."

"Well, good luck getting info without someone on the inside."

Amber's hands itched, and her eyes darted to the trashcan nearby. Blake was only offering help to earn points for the bet, but it would be ignorant to think he could not be valuable. She groaned and stomped back to the house, a string of curses following behind. With her shoulder bag and jacket, she returned to the car, sour-faced. The boy's lips curled up as he stepped on his cigarette, and the two of them got in.

"No motorcycle this time?" she asked.

Blake snickered as they drove off. "I'm not really allowed to drive my bike. My elders deem it too dangerous."

"I thought cyngs don't get told what to do."

"Nobody tells me what to do. They just... aggressively suggest."

"Mmm-hm."

The ride followed in peace, remarks on the dull weather all to be said. They passed the school gates, where kids instantly sped their walks to the building. Blake parked at the front, and a group of girls passed, gazes burning into Amber before they walked up the steps.

"So, do you have a plan?" he asked.

"A plan?"

"To find out if the East did it."

"Oh, yeah, sort of. But I can't let Owen suspect anything. It's best to make people feel like they've got the upper hand if you want to manipulate them. Bonus if they feel important," she said and got out of the car. She craned her neck around. No silver Aston Martin yet.

"Well, what is it?" Blake asked, getting out.

"Can't tell you."

"But, but I'm supposed to help you," he said, walking over.

Amber turned with a smile, reaching to gently touch his arm.

"You are helping," she said. "I can't do any of this without you."

Turning, she walked up the steps with a growing grin. It took a minute before Blake caught on and sulked after her.

Homeroom and English passed with only two more attempts from the cyng to learn Amber's plan. After that, he said he had to leave and would pick her up to take her home after school. Free of her headache, the girl snoozed during the classes that followed.

At lunch, she haggled extra fries with her burger from the lunch ladies and scanned the cafeteria. The twins sat at a corner, no cyng in sight. Amber strolled over and sat across from them with a nonchalant smile. They discussed something about giraffes before stopping to look up. Their names escaped her, but she could not ask while trying to probe.

"Where's Owen today?" the girl asked, casually taking a bite of her burger. The twins looked at each other, then back at her.

"He's out of town," one said. They honestly were identical, down to their matching coats. But this one's braids were tied with colourful neon elastics, while his brother used a neon scrunchy.

"Won't be back for another two weeks," the scrunchy one added.

Her jaw set. Of course her biggest suspect was out of town.

"What's he doing?" she asked, slumping with her elbows on the table and grabbing a mouthful of fries. A different gaze burned a hole in her back.

"He's with the elders, arranging a deal with Rumbullion."

"Who's Rumbullion?"

"The second largest bloodline," Elastics continued. "They deal with alcohol. Owen wants to combine their clubs with our hotels."

"They're also known as Kill-devil," Scrunchie added.

Amber swallowed her bite and leaned over. "Bloodlines have a ranking system?" she asked. "Who's the largest?"

"Oh, here she is!" someone else chipped in.

Tan Cam perched next to the twins, giving them a look that made the boys leave. The others joined in too. Rude Jude, Nerdy Birdy and Plain Jane all came to sit down. Amber itched to pry for more, but the smiles across from her made her sit up with a matching grin of her own. Jessy was not there to scare the potential girl friends away.

"Hey, guys," Amber greeted, trying to angle herself more casually. She took a smaller bite from her burger this time.

Cam's smile was short-lived.

"You go on a date with Blake and even get him to drop you off at school, but as soon as he's gone, you're asking about Owen? I've tried keeping my opinion to myself, but this has gone on long enough," she said.

"Huh?" Amber asked, losing her own smile in turn.

"We're tired of seeing you two-time West and East," Jude cut in, dark brows drawn low. "We were going to wait for you to pick, but you're keeping them both on a line. It's rude to the rest of us."

"The rest of you? Do you like them?"

Cam snickered. "Like? What's 'like' got to do with any of it?"

Amber shifted. She was sure those aggressive girls in movies were just fiction. She must have misunderstood somehow.

"Like I said, I was going to keep quiet," Cam continued, tucking back a strand of hair. "Even after your antics got my brother hurt."

"Your brother got hurt?"

"Cam's brother is from the North," Jude interrupted again.

"Yeah, and after you got your boyfriends to rescue you last weekend, he got injured," Nerdy Birdy added. She pushed back her glasses and looked over at her scowling friend expectantly.

"Out of respect for Jessy," Cam explained, "I let you be. But asking about Owen after a date with Blake? This ain't it. I can't let you walk all over us and get people hurt because you're clueless."

Amber's head weighed heavy, and her gaze fell to the food in front of her. She poked at a fry with her fork. These girls were not antagonists in some movie. They had a reasonable point.

"Your brother... Is he fine now?"

"Oh, he's still recovering, but he's not dead, at least."

Thank goodness.

Cam continued, "You know, not everyone can be privileged like you. Some of us are forced into this life, and we can either climb the ranks or fall. You see this?" She pulled down her black turtleneck to reveal a smooth throat. "If I don't get Blake to notice me before I turn eighteen in September, I'll get a fucking scar here, and I'll be stuck with the North. You think I want to stay in that shithole?"

"If you don't stop whoring yourself around and back the fuck off, you're going to get hurt," Jude warned.

Amber's throat went dry. "Look," she started, just audible enough to be heard over the bustling cafeteria. "I have no right to judge any of you. I don't know your circumstances. But I can say this, I don't think you should rely on a guy to improve your standing. Better yet, I don't think this life is something you should stay in. Cam, I think you're very smart. Smarter than me, for sure, and your yacht party was well planned. Maybe look into that for a career. I can see the rest of you want some validation, and I don't know why, but don't get it at the cost of yourself. And Jane, don't let people just use you."

Jude snickered. "My God. What kind of self-righteous—"

"What if people forget me?" Jane cut in, earning curious looks from her friends. It was the first time she spoke up, and her voice was colder than expected.

Amber flinched. She was the last person qualified to answer. She would likely forget all four faces in front of her after graduation.

"I don't have all the answers," she said. "And I'm sorry if I was offensive. I didn't mean anything negatively. Bottom line, arguing about boys, cyngs or not, is stupid. I'm not interested in them."

"Then prove it," Jude sneered. "Stay away."

Amber bit her cheek. "I can't really do that right now..."

"Of course you can't," Nerdy Birdy sighed, eyes on Jude again.

Jane kept quiet this time, watching.

The bell rang, and for the first time, Amber could not finish her food. She went over the conversation to try and find her mistake.

"Stay away if you know what's good for you," Cam warned.

The girls got up and left after one last glare. Amber stayed sitting. And not for the first time, she wished she was not home-schooled all her life. She truly wished she could have known the right words to say. 

For the two weeks that followed, Amber could comply with Tan Cam's demands. Owen was still out of town, Blake was told to be on standby, and Jessy was back to being, as she herself quoted, the bitch repellent.

On Monday, Amber received a text from Mr President telling her today would be her chance. Owen was back. The problem was going to be those girls. If they saw her with him, they would not let it go. Dealing with opponents she could hurt, boys in particular, was her speciality. But when it came to girls, she was at a loss.

Coming back from her morning jog, she plopped down on her bed. The sun already snuck high enough to peer past her curtains, soft rays glowing across the wooden chess set on her desk. The pieces were placed in accordance with the last couple of events and her time in the clinic came to mind. One of the many lessons her psychologist left her with.

It is often our disadvantages that provide the best opportunities.

There it was. A simple pawn waiting to be moved. Amber nearly laughed at herself. She got dressed in old clothes and, instead of her jacket, went with a worn brown sweater. She packed her shoulder bag, including a swimsuit for PE, and was off.

The day flew by, and as expected, Owen was there, chatting with the twins in the cafeteria. The girl lingered in their direction, but when Jessy called her to another table, headed that way with her tray instea—

Shoulders collided, and Amber dropped her lunch at the impact. She looked up, wide-eyed. Tan Cam. Laughter erupted from all around, and she stammered an apology before dropping to her knees to clean the mess up. Her head stayed down, hair covering her face.

"Tch. Careful where you're going," Cam said.

"Sorry," Amber stuttered.

After the embarrassing scene at lunch, the girl had French and then finally PE. Everyone changed into their swimwear in the locker rooms. Standard black pieces. Amber draped a towel around her shoulders and followed the other girls out, only a step behind. The pool was in a separate building close by, and it smelled of chlorine and sweat. Some boys had already jumped into the steaming water, and the girls ogled their exposed torsos.

Spotting a particularly muscled body, Amber blushed. She had not seen Owen without a shirt before. He hoisted himself out of the water effortlessly, shaking his hair, and walked over to her. Droplets slid down his chest, snaking across ripped abs and past his exposed V-line. It made sense why his clothes always sat tight.

"Why, hello there, Goldie," he grinned.

"You're flexing," she replied, crossing her arms.

"I'm not trying to show off. I can't help having this beauti—"

"No, you're literally flexing your muscles. I can see your shoulders tensing up. Stop trying to look buff."

Owen's mouth hung open, snapped shut, then opened again with a chuckle. The tension in his body was released, and he looked slightly closer to normal. Abs not as defined anymore.

"Better," Amber said. Tan Cam appeared in the corner of her eye, and her smile left. Her gaze fell to the soaked floor. She turned away.

"Where you going? The teacher needs us to do a lap," Owen said, grabbing her shoulder. She flinched and turned back.

"I shouldn't really talk to you," she mumbled.

He twisted around and looked to where her eyes darted.

"Are you being bothered?"

"I-it's nothing."

She turned, shrugging off his hand and walked to where the PE teacher called out names. It was an Olympic-sized pool, and everyone had to swim from one end to the other. A full fifty metres, freestyle, of which they were to be timed individually. The guys went first, and Owen was called next. He brought his arms together, stretching them across his chest and over his shoulder. Making eye contact with Amber, he blew a kiss.

Cam's glare could be felt a kilometre away.

The cyng stepped up to the diving board and crouched at the edge, waiting. He was counted down. Girls cheered. Three, two, one. He leapt. Plunged. Bulky arms cut through the water with flawless strokes, and he swam to the other side much faster than his large build should have allowed.

"Twenty-three seconds," the teacher called.

Amber's jaw fell. It stayed that way even as Owen got out and walked over with the smuggest of expressions on his face.

"You bribing the teacher?" she scoffed, closing her mouth again.

He laughed, swiping his wet hair back. Its usual bronze colour had turned dark. "I have a vacation home right on the beach at East Ends. I could swim before I could walk," he said.

A fish boy. Of course. Amber had only gone swimming at the sea twice in her life. She had a big pool at home to make up for it though.

"If you want, you could come with next time," he offered, leaning in. "I know you missed me while I was gone these two weeks."

It was not only Cam who watched them anymore.

"Not happening," Amber mumbled, looking away.

Her name was called, and she clutched her towel closer while walking to the diving board. Eyes stayed down, even as she shrugged off her towel, revealing a tight-fitting full-piece swimsuit. She shyly adjusted a strap. And when the girl stepped onto the board, finally looking up, everyone was staring.

Before nerves could ruin everything, she diverted her gaze to the teacher. They shared a nod, and she lowered. Three, two, one. Pushing off, the girl dived much further than most. Where she lacked brute strength, she made up for it with clean strokes and good rhythm. Her arms burned with delight and the building ache in her legs came as nostalgic pleasure. The end neared too soon. She reached for the edge, her hand making a wet slap as she broke the surface.

"Thirty seconds," the teacher called, brows raised.

Amber pulled herself out of the warm water and got to her feet as Owen brought her towel. He offered it with suave arrogance.

"Not quite as fast as me," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I didn't say I'd beat you. Not everyone grew up at the sea. Besides, just one look at the two of us, and it's pretty clear who's more athletic." She snatched her towel and threw it around her shoulders. "But that still won't stop me from owning you in a fight."

Turning, she left before Owen could react. Her smile faltered when Cam passed by, looking tempted to claw her face off.

"You don't listen, do you?" the girl asked, and Amber flinched.

When she peeked over her shoulder, Owen was watching.

During the rest of the class, everyone got their time taken while the girl sat in a corner, drying her hair. Once everyone went, the teacher dismissed them, and they headed back to the main building.

Walking into the gym, the students stopped to gasp. Amber pushed through and froze at the sight. Shivered. There, in the middle of the floor, lay a bundle of shredded clothes, a familiar brown sweater in the mix.

She walked over, head hung, and crouched to inspect the pieces. Her face scrunched up until her cheeks burned. This was playing dirty. Amber shot up and spun around, brows snapping together. The class whispered, Cam right in front with a smirk on her face. Owen kept quiet.

"Who did this?" Amber demanded.

"Wasn't me," Cam sniggered, crossing her arms.

"Then how the hell did this happen? What am I meant to wear?"

"Beats me," she said. "Guess you're not as liked as you thought."

The bell rang, and after another laugh, Cam left, the others following suit. Amber stayed. She stared down at her clothes with balled fists. It was so obviously the work of a scissor. And no accident, either.

"I can tell those girls to stop," Owen said, strolling over.

"It's fine," she sighed, bending down to gather the pieces.

"You have anything else to wear?"

"No."

"I can offer my coat."

Amber paused, then stood up with narrowed eyes.

"Probably not for free," she said. "What's the catch?"

Owen straightened his back, a finger trailing to his lips. His eyes were elsewhere before lighting up, and he grinned at her.

"A date," he said. "This Thursday."

"No way."

"You can hardly refuse, Goldie."

Amber scowled. Her situation did not look good. Clothes in tethers and having just said she had nothing else to wear, anyone witnessing the scene could tell Owen had the upper hand. She was in no position to decline him. Even if it was a date with her enemy.

"Fine, whatever. It's a deal," she said.

Owen laughed it off and told her to wait a moment while he headed to the locker room, still in his swimming trunks. Amber continued gathering her ruined clothes, and once it was all bundled up, the boy returned. He draped his coat around her shoulders, securing it in place almost lovingly. It smelled of salt and perfume.

"A pleasure doing business," he said with a mocking bow.

"Yeah-yeah, thanks," she replied, and left.

The changing room was always poorly lit, but this time the shadows were a welcome mask to hide malicious expressions. Whispers followed her to her locker, where she sunk down on a bench. Is she dating East or West? Both? Lol, the girl's got stamina. Owen should hire her. Ah, but if she's after Blake, isn't she a druggy?

Amber waited for everyone to finish, and with Owen's coat, silly jokes were as far as things went. The bell rang, and the girls finally left. Alone, she stood and slowly opened her locker. The weight in her gut could not put up a fight against the smirk that crawled up her face. There, inside the steely box, neatly folded clothes lay waiting. Her silver pair of scissors too.

"Scummy, but worth it," Amber thought out loud.

These wolves fall into traps just as easily as the sheep.

Thursday, first of May, Amber was knee-deep in her closet while Jessy lay sprawled on her bed. The room was a mess, to put it mildly.

"What the hell does 'fancy but not fancy' mean?" she whined.

The sun had sunk into late afternoon, and Owen said he would pick her up at 7 p.m. If she did not find an outfit soon, she would be screwed.

"Well, for starters, do you have something without paint on it?"

Amber turned to stare at her cousin. Her cousin stared back.

"So, that's a no," Jessy said. "What about the little black number over there?" She gestured to the closet, and Amber took hold of the hanger, holding the dress up.

"Even with the green paint?"

"We can't afford to be picky."

"But it's a mini dress, and that ain't good for kicking."

"Just wear tights underneath."

"That's genius, Jessy! Genius!"

"Shut up."

A pillow hit Amber square in the face, and she doubled over with laughter. Going with the mini dress, she had Jessy help with makeup and wrangle her hair into a half-up style. It being a date with Owen, she settled on a mustard-coloured trench coat to fit in. At the doorbell's chime, the girl threw on her black ankle boots and click-clacked down the stairs. Uncle Anton was already opening the door.

"Hello, young man," he greeted with a deep voice and puffed chest.

Owen stood on the porch, hands in his coat pockets with the usual scarf and a lazy smirk like he had done this a million times before.

"Why, good eveni—"

"Bye, Uncle Anton!" Amber interrupted, aiming to rush past.

"Wait," her uncle called. She turned around with a tight grin and batting lashes. He cleared his throat. "This one of your boys?"

"Uh... Yeah."

"What's his name?"

"Owen."

Uncle Anton's brows stayed drawn for a suspenseful second, looking like he might object. It was short-lived, however, as smile lines sprung to his eyes and his cheeks turned rosy.

"Heh-low, Owey. You are a big boy. I bet you're strong too. Take care of my niece now, alright?"

"Uh..." Owen looked lost.

"Owey sure will!" Amber grinned and ushered the really big boy away, waving her uncle goodbye. The door clicked shut.

"What the heck was that about?" Owen asked. They walked to where a limousine was parked by the road. Show-off.

"Oh, shush, Coat Boy. It's funny."

"What did you call me?"

"Coat Boy. I feel like we're at the nickname phase. I scribble down all kinds of endearments for you in my diary."

"Oh, really? Like?"

"Dumbass, bastard, jerk."

"Isn't that a bit harsh?"

"Dipshit, fuckface, twat."

"Okay, I get the—"

"Village idiot..."

"Seriously—"

"Fish boy..."

"I'm going to regret making that deal with you," Owen sighed.

He shook his head as they walked and opened the door for her. She slid into the back. The vehicle was a respectable size, had room for about nine people, and was fitted with rich leather. Owen's depressed friend was behind the wheel and sent a nod Amber's way.

"Hi," he said, eyes sunken.

"Hey," she greeted back. Not awkward at all.

He opened his mouth to add something but closed it again and stared straight ahead. Owen got in next to her, and they were off.

"We're going to pick my parents up first," he said.

Amber's brows shot up while her lips twisted down.

"Your parents are coming with on the date?"

He laughed at her expression. "Getting rid of them would've been impossible," he said. "Besides, my clothes are still there."

"Clothes? You're going to wear something else?"

"Let's call it a surprise."

Fifteen minutes later, they passed through guarded gates and headed up a lengthy driveway. An old English manor came into view. They parked at the front, and Owen went to open her door. Amber nearly mistook him for a gentleman.

"Thanks," she said and got out.

They walked up the steps and stopped at the door. Before Owen could knock, shouting sounded from within. Amber's brows rose.

"She's here! She's here! She's here!"

"Kelly Katherine Rhodes, get back! I told you to behave today."

A butler opened the door, and Amber stood without knowing what to do with her arms. Inside, a beautiful blonde woman held a little girl by her shoulders; they straightened up and grinned innocently.

"Thank you, Curt," the woman said, and the butler left.

Owen guided Amber by the small of her back into the house and closed the door behind them. "Amber, this is my mum, Katherine Rhodes," he introduced. "Mum, this is Amber Marigold."

The woman extended her hand, and though Amber hesitated, she shook it all the same. She had such delicate fingers.

"It's nice to meet you, Amber," Katherine smiled, shaking her hand. Her warmth reminded the girl of her own mom.

"Hello, Missus Rhodes," she greeted, clearing her throat.

"Oh, please, call me Kath."

"Kath, my love, I thought only I may call you that?" another said.

"You can learn to share, William," Kath sighed.

Everyone turned to where a man with a wide set of shoulders approached them in a wheelchair. Kath went to help push him the rest of the way. There was no doubt whose father he was. Without the grey streaks and wrinkles, he was an exact copy of Owen.

Amber shuddered. The person who ordered the attack on her parents could be in this room. She gulped when the man extended his hand. The scars on his hands had turned silver with age.

"William Chester Rhodes," he introduced, kissing her hand with a smile. His eyes darted to her knuckles.

"Amber Marigold," she said with the faintest croak in her voice.

"You're lovelier than I expected."

Not as lovely as my mother one of you could've— No, she thought. Now was not the time to jump to conclusions. She was yet to be sure. And though mentioning her family to see their reaction could be beneficial, if she was correct, it could cost her her life.

"Thank you," she said instead.

The little girl yet to be introduced cleared her throat, crossing her arms. She wore her dark green dress like it was a straitjacket.

"Ah, before she throws a fit, this is my sister, Kelly Katherine Rhodes," Owen said. "Also known as Pee Wee."

"Shut it, Wendy," the girl snapped and returned to appraising Amber. "So, you're the girl that slapped my brother?"

Amber coughed. "Ah, yeah, that's me..."

Kelly's eyes narrowed to two dark slits, her lips thinning.

"Good on you!" she suddenly burst with a crooked grin.

Amber released the breath she unknowingly held.

"Haha, yeah. He was only asking for it."

"He's always asking for it," Kelly said, shoving at her brother. "Hey, you ready to receive your birthday gift?"

"Please, no—" Kelly punched her brother in the gut before he could finish. "You're so predictable," he groaned, doubled over.

"Kelly, that's no way for a lady to behave!" Kath scolded.

Amber tried fighting her laugh. "Birthday?" she asked.

"The boy's finally an adult," William said, patting his son's back.

Owen's eyes darkened so briefly it could have been imagined. "Yes, yes," he sighed, straightening up again and brushing it off. "No need to make a big deal out of it."

"Well, we have gifts that can wait until tomorrow," Kath said. "If you don't get dressed, we'll be late."

"Of course. I'll go do that right now," Owen said. He winked a 'see you soon' at Amber and disappeared further into the house. Alone with his family, the girl stood stiffly. She shifted her weight.

"So, how'd you meet Wendy?" Kelly asked. One of her teeth was still growing out. "I bet you didn't take his crap, and he swooned."

"Kelly, language," Kath warned.

Amber grinned.

"Something like that."

By 8 p.m. the Rhodes family and Amber stopped in front of a large, bright building. The tinted windows of the limousine provided cover from the photographers. She stared at the flashing lights. Though her parents had been interviewed on television several times, the girl herself had never been subject to public attention.

A man opened the door, large and burly, with a steely glint in his inner jacket. Likely a nine-millimetre. Two more came to help escort Mr Rhodes with his wheelchair, and the family stepped out onto the carpet, which led to the bronze-framed glass entrance. Owen offered his arm, and Amber took it only in fear that she would trip the second a photo was taken. She stared up at the boy. Even in his black and green tracksuit, he still looked classy.

"Aren't you too young to be boxing professionally?" she asked.

"It's only a practice bout," he explained. "On paper, at least."

"Oh."

They passed through the doors and into a grand lobby of marble and bronze. Guests in formal wear bundled together, chatting over a glass of champagne. They watched the Rhodes family through the corner of their eyes. Amber stared back at them when Owen suddenly leaned over.

"How much you betting on me tonight?" he asked, his breath tingling the shell of her ear.

She shivered down to her toes before composing herself. Amber looked up at him with bedroom eyes and leaned over in turn, huskily whispering, "I don't bet on a lost cause."

When she pulled back, Owen was blushing through a sulk.

"Goldie, I never lose a fight," he said.

"Only a race?"

The dent in his ego showed on his face.

"Firstly, that's low," he said, then pulled her closer. "Secondly, you might love insulting me, but I haven't forgotten our kiss."

Amber's jaw unhinged.

"I did NOT kiss you back! I was drunk!" she lied.

"If you're afraid of losing money, how about we bet for another?"

"Dream on."

"If I lose... Hmm... Let's say I'll answer any question you got."

Amber's mouth opened but paused. She pursed her lips.

"Three. Make it three questions, and we have a deal."

"Then it's settled."

The girl smiled. This could not have worked out better.

Owen's coach came to fetch him, and they left. Kath turned to the rest of the family and suggested they head up to get to their seats. Kelly linked arms with Amber, sticking her tongue out playfully. They walked to a bronze elevator so polished the girl could see their reflection. And what a sight it was. Her heart swelled. Then shrunk.

Once above, they stepped out to a balcony overlooking the boxing ring. It was grander than expected, resembling the design of an opera house rather than a stadium. Rows upon rows of seats were crafted from wood and lush green velvet. Lights swung in and out from the dome roof above, sweeping across the ring's canvas while it got cleaned. Already, spectators swarmed back in and packed the place. Amber sat between Kelly and Kath, with Mr Rhodes beside his wife. She listened with a content smile as the little girl rambled on about all kinds of embarrassing stories, with the occasional 'language!' and 'you're a lady!' from Mrs Rhodes. A sinking weight grew.

Could this family be behind what happened to her parents?

By the time the announcer appeared, the crowd was alive. Owen was called first, a string of accomplishments following behind. It spanned from being the heir to The Will hotels to youth championships he previously won. He stepped into the ring, shrugging off a black and green robe, and in the bright light, the boy was more ripped than before.

His opponent was called next, Boris, a stout man with hair as white as his skin. The referee brought them close, called the fight, and a bell rang. Amber leaned forward in her seat, fingers trailing her chin. She had respect for boxers, using only their hands. There was no way she could win a fight without using everything she had. But this fight here? Amber's brows met. The opera house design started to make sense.

She looked over at the Rhodes family. Mr Rhodes had his eyes on the fight with a smile; Kath had her hand trembling by her lips; and Kelly cheered, calling for blood. They did not seem to notice. Amber returned to the fight, leaned back in her seat, and picked at the paint under her nails. By the twelfth and final round, she fought to stay awake. The rest of the stadium was on its feet, completely enraptured. Owen's face contorted in determination, but his back had barely broken a sweat.

The ten-second warning came, and in heroic spectacle, his fist shot out to land a hook. A perfect hook. Boris was out cold.

Amber stifled a yawn as the boy was declared the winner of the exhibition. His hand was hoisted in the air by the referee, and the crowd went wild, women calling his name, photographers flashing for a front-page picture. Owen rotated on the spot, waving at the stadium. He made eye contact with the girl and flashed her a grin.

She did not return the gesture.

After the fight, the Rhodes family went down to the lobby again. Kelly was disappointed by the lack of blood, while Kath expressed her relief. Not much later, Owen came to meet them. Back in his robe, with a sports bag at hand, he approached the girl. Other than a slightly red face, he looked fine. His night at the yacht party had sustained more injuries.

"Owen Love, William and I'll be taking Kelly home," Kath said while they made their way outside. "It's getting late. Will you take care of Amber?" The guards around them kept reporters at bay.

"Ah, yes, that's alright, Mum," Owen said. "We're making a stop to go over a few things, and then I'm returning her."

"Stay safe," she said and kissed his cheek. She turned to Amber, pulling her in for a hug. "It was lovely meeting you," she said, the scent of home cooking on her. The girl's throat closed up.

"The pleasure is mine," she hugged back and let go.

Mr Rhodes congratulated his son and went to shake Amber's hand, but Kelly pushed him to the side to get a fist pump from her.

"Don't forget to show Wendy who's boss," she winked, much like her brother. Siblings, without a doubt.

The limousine pulled up, and the family got in, waving goodbye. The feeling they left behind could fend off the chill of the night much more than Amber's coat. Please don't be guilty, she wished.

Owen's sports car arrived, and the valet handed over his keys. Still, in no more than a robe and his boxing boots and shorts, he opened the door for Amber with all the grace of a man in a full tuxedo. They climbed in, and the cyng drove them off.

"I like the bathrobe," she said, holding her smile.

"It's not a bathrobe, Goldie. It's a boxing robe."

"What's the first rule of bathrobe fight club?"

"Oh, God."

"You don't talk about bathrobe fight club," she said, laughing.

The boy kept his eyes ahead, his back slouching, with the faintest twitch from his lips. Amber did not ask where they were going, but she could guess when palm trees lined the road, and the beach came into view. They pulled over to a tall building, Victorian in design but recent in age. Golden light drank the night. Its name, The Will, was written with curving letters. Rounding a glittering fountain, Owen parked the car at the entrance. He got out, got his sports bag, and opened the door for her, offering his arm. She swallowed her laugh best as she could and stepped out. He's awfully courteous for a half-naked boy, she thought.

Inside, the staff was sure to greet their heir. He waved them off and led her to the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse.

"Can't wait for that second kiss," he said, leaning over.

Amber huffed. "After that sad excuse of a fight?" she asked. A muscle in his jaw tensed, and she continued, "Our deal never specified which fight. You haven't won anything just yet."

"What? Then who am I supposed to fight?"

"Oh, don't you worry." She fought her smirk. "I have someone else in mind. And this time, victory won't be handed to you."

The doors opened, and they stepped into the penthouse. Owen took out his phone and remotely switched most of the lights on. Spacious and grand, the apartment followed the Victorian style through. Amber strolled on. She passed a hatstand with worn coats, a clean kitchen with not one but three bowls of apples on display. And straight ahead, the living room was what called her. Brown leather couches clustered together. Sports and fashion magazines lay sprawled on a coffee table, a black and white chess set too. And taking up most of the wall, royal green curtains framed arched windows.

Her breath hitched.

She walked over and pressed herself to the glass, staring at the ocean ahead. A dark, endless surface that tossed the stars around in ripples of rolling waves. She could drown in the view.

Starry Sea, Amber titled the painting she imagined.

"So, who's this fighter you have in mind?" he asked behind her.

She tore herself from the window and crossed her arms.

"Me."

The boy stared at her, and when a punchline did not follow, he laughed, hand shooting up to his mouth.

"You can't be serious."

"On the contrary."

"I don't hit girls," he brushed off, strolling to the kitchen. He left his bag on the bar stool. "Some tea?" he asked, turning the kettle on.

"Well, if you aren't hitting back, you're losing for sure."

He opened the cabinets and got two mint green cups.

"Sorry, but 'losing' isn't in my vocabulary."

"Then allow me to educate you."

"Any specific tea you prefer?"

"You're scared."

Owen's body tensed. He set the tea down and turned around.

"Scared?" he asked. "Me? I'm a cyng. You're insane."

Amber stalked over. "You are scared," she pressed. "Bet you've forgotten what it's like to fight someone that wants to win."

He flinched, and she wondered if the wound went deeper.

"I told you, I'm not scared. I just don't hit girls."

"Hitting me won't be your problem, Owen. It's when I hit back."

"Not happening. I won fair and square," he said with the faintest waver in his voice. "I want that kiss."

"And I want three questions."

Squaring him up, the girl walked right up to him and was not letting up any ground. Owen's eyes darted to her lips. He sighed, brushing his hair over, and leaned against the counter. The bathrobe had shifted enough to expose his torso, undoubtedly his best feature.

"Fine," he said with a sigh. He pushed past her and walked to the living room, no doubt to discuss rules. But his back was turned, and his guard was down.

Big mistake.

Amber spun on her heel and thrust a side-kick. She hit the back of his knees, and his legs buckled. He crashed to the floor.

"What the heck?" Owen yelled, twisting around to gape at her.

When he tried to stand back up, a second kick greeted his face and his head whipped at the force. A third to his hip, and he rolled onto his back.

Despite the early initiative, Amber did not have the upper hand. Her expertise lay in precise strikes that ended fights quickly. Before her opponent could overpower her. A drawn-out match was unwise.

Owen's eyes opened in time for him to roll away from the incoming stomp kick to his groin.

"What are you? A secret frickin ninja?" he exclaimed.

On his stomach, he tried getting up, but she dived before he could. Knee digging into his back, her arm snaked into a V-lock chokehold.

"Question One, do you want Tygerwel for yourself?" she asked, her lips on his ear. He had a faint whiff of sweat.

"You haven't won yet," he choked, his face already turning red.

"Just answer the question."

Owen tensed his neck. He grabbed hold of her arm and pulled down as his hips launched her up. She flipped over 180 and smashed onto the carpet with her back, her leg knocking the chess set from the coffee table. Amber tried to get up, but the boy still held onto her arms, pinning them over her head as he shifted to his knees. She glared up.

"Of course, I want it for myself," he smirked and stole a peck.

Amber gasped against Owen's lips. His smug expression sent lightning down her veins. She spun her body around. Arms still trapped, her legs twisted to bash his throat with her heel. He choked. Hands freed, she sprung to her feet, the cyng only a second behind.

He rubbed at his neck, sizing her up. Her eyes narrowed, and she shrugged off her coat, revealing the tight dress beneath. To add to it, the girl bent over and zipped down her ankle boots, lingering there. Owen's eyes instantly dropped to her cleavage. It was a dirty move, but this was not boxing. And Amber used everything she had.

She kicked up, and her boot went flying. Too busy drooling to react, the shoe smacked into Owen's face. His hands shot up, cupping his nose.

"You're so violent—"

He caught the second boot before it hit his groin.

Amber leapt ahead, kicking his shin. She used the distraction to clamp behind his neck and bring him down as her knee came up, ramming into his chest. The breath left him, and he caved.

"Question two, was killing Blake's father and brother part of your plans to get Tygerwel?" she asked, holding him up.

"Why do you care?" he rasped into her hair.

Grabbing onto his wrist and shoulder, her leg swung past him. And when it came back, it crashed into his heel as she shoved him back. He fell on his ass. Robbing him of any remaining breath, Amber dropped on his chest and straddled him. She pulled him up by the cuffs of his robe.

"Answer the question!"

"No," Owen admitted, wincing with each gulp of air. "It wasn't like that. We got a tip-off that they were going to kidnap Pee Wee."

"Are you lying?" she asked.

Blake never mentioned a kidnapping.

"I'm not," he said, his head going slack while his eyes pinched together. She might have kneed him too hard. "My dad left the choice to me. It was my call, and I couldn't risk my sister."

Amber's brow puckered. She was not getting anywhere with this.

"Question three, was the East responsible for killing families that worked for the Sterling Arms Company?"

Without warning, Owen lurched and rolled them over, swapping places. He trapped her wrists next to her head. She breathed hard, her chest rising and falling while the boy watched.

"Sterling Arms Company?" he asked. His eyes darted down to where her dress was riding up.

Thank goodness she wore tights.

"Answer!" Amber shouted.

"The East had a normal relationship with Sterling. We wouldn't attack them for no reason," Owen said.

"Liar!" She tried and failed at wriggling from his grip. Her next best weapon was glaring. "Blake already told me things with Sterling were shaky. They didn't want to associate with the Dynast."

"Bowmen said that?" Owen asked.

"My family..." She continued to struggle. "Does Melissa and Robert Marigold not ring a bell? Did you not decide to target Sterling after they refused to supply you with weapons? Tell me!"

The cyng blinked. He stared until her arms were too tired to fight back, and she stopped moving. The grip on her wrists loosened.

"Why do you stay with your Aunt and Uncle?" he asked.

Amber twisted her head to look away.

"Someone wanted to send Sterling a message, and my parents were the means. The police couldn't do a thing. After all my parents had done for them. Done for this country... Nobody could give me an answer. So please, tell me." She turned back to him, her voice pitched. "Tell me why or tell me your family is innocent."

Owen's expression softened. "My family is far from innocent," he admitted. "I'm far from... I've got more regrets than any kid should. But believe me when I say that neither my family nor I would ever harm someone who did not threaten us first. I swear to you, the East had no part in what happened to Sterling."

Her nose stung, and her eyes burned. She wanted to cry in relief at his answer. She wanted to cry in frustration at a lack of her own.

"Then who?" she asked, her voice small.

"Goldie, there are..." Owen's eyes searched her, dark and endless like the ocean outside. He looked away, cursed. And when his gaze returned, it was much more pained than when he got hit. "If I had to give you my best guess, there's only one bloodline with the balls and ambition to attack the country's largest arms company."

The answer came to her before his words did.

"The North."

Amber shuddered. How was that devil not the first person she suspected? But did he not say his plans started in Tygerwel? Her parents lived in the city. Or perhaps he thought to arm himself before he began... and Sterling refused to take part. A chill clawed at her heart, and the girl went rigid.

Did this mean he knew who she was?

"Nothing is making sense," she whispered.

Blinking up at Owen, Amber was caught in his stare. She was suddenly all too aware of his body pressed to hers, of all their exposed skin making contact. Tingles ran down her back. He leaned in, the air static between them, and she stopped breathing. Any moment and their lips would—

Ding.

The elevator opened and Owen's kin strolled in, stopping abruptly at the scene.

"Uh, are we interrupting something?" the flirty blond asked.

Amber's face instantly burned, and she kneed without thinking. Owen groaned, grabbing his groin, and crumbled into himself. The girl threw him off her and shot to her feet, pulling her dress down.

"You interrupted your cyng, losing a fight to a girl."

The twins were already rummaging for food in the kitchen, while the flirt tip-toed to the living room as though any fast movements could prompt an attack. The driver stayed where he was.

"Well, it looks pretty..." the flirt coughed, "steamy in here."

"Should we leave?" the driver asked, inching away.

"Nobody has to leave! There is nothing going on!" Amber said when it felt like she could drop dead.

HERE LIES AMBER MARIGOLD
THE FIRST PERSON TO DIE OF BLUSHING
MAY SHE REST IN PEACE

"I wouldn't say nothing." Owen rolled to his side, propping his head up with an elbow. "I technically got that kiss from you."

The glare Amber sent made his tombstone all too clear.

HERE LIES OWEN WILLIAM RHODES
A VICTIM TO NOT SHUTTING HIS DAMN MOUTH
MAY HE REST WITH AMBER'S FIVE-INCH HEEL UP HIS ASS

"Man, we missed the best part!" the flirt whined.

"The sexual tension is nauseating," the driver grumbled.

"HERE IS NO SEXUAL TENSION!"

"Stop denying it, Goldie."

"SHUT UP!"

Owen returned to his feet and sent a smirk that she wished she could wipe off his face with a chair. A very large chair. With spikes.

She looked around for said chair when the East's kin walked over to the living room. The twins brought snacks, gummy worms, and everyone got comfortable on the couches. The flirt patted the spot next to him, and Amber released a sigh before dragging herself over. She slumped between Mr Sunshine and Mr Cloudy.

"You didn't do anything on this couch, did you?" the flirt asked.

"The only person who's done stuff on that couch is you, Matt," Owen said, taking a couch across from them and kicking his feet up.

Matt! That's his name, Amber thought.

"I don't recall anything like that," Matt defended.

"You brought someone over, like, last week," one twin said.

"Alright, I'm removing myself," the driver grumbled and got up to stand by the window, taking out a tube of hand sanitiser.

Matt leaned back, stretching his arms. "A week is a lifetime for a butterfly," he said blissfully.

"Dude, are you a butterfly?" the driver asked.

"That would be amazing." Matt's blue eyes shimmered at the thought while everyone else shook their heads.

"This is my kin," Owen said, rubbing his brow. "Two dimwits, an emo clean freak, and a grown man that wants to be a butterfly."

"Quite the scary bloodline you are," Amber smiled.

How could any of these guys be part of the Dynast? They were so... normal. She could not wrap her head around them being killers.

"So, you guys got any news?" Owen asked.

The twins looked at each other. The one with elastics in his braids said, "We finally managed to get an audience with Xavier's first kin while you were gone. It seems that none of the events this year are getting cancelled. The North isn't even demanding retribution for what happened at Isabella."

"Xavier couldn't care less about his men," Scrunchie added.

Amber sat up. "Do you know a lot about him?"

Their reply was stopped by a look from Owen. The cyng turned to the girl, his expression dark.

"Xavier's been in charge of the North for a while now. And his ascendance didn't start off great either. There's no proof, of course, but it's rumoured he murdered his family for the title. Six years ago, at the Northern Ball, they all mysteriously got trapped in a burning room. When the other bloodlines asked questions, he said West or East did it. And when we were both proven innocent, he blamed the South. To this day, he hasn't tried coming up with a better lie."

"What makes you say it was a lie?" Amber asked. "Were you even there six years ago? You would've been, uh, well, twelve."

"I only attended events when I turned thirteen," he answered.

"But I was there," Matt spoke up. "And it couldn't have been the South. They did not even attend that year. Everyone knows that."

Amber wrapped her arms around herself. She could not believe someone like that existed. How could anyone kill their own family?

"The North's always been known for being ruthless," Owen went on. "Their business is money. But since that devil's been in charge, they've gotten cruel. He only recruits the worst of the worst."

Her conversation with Xavier came to mind, and she could not look anyone in the eye.

"Aren't you scared he'd try to attack you?" she asked.

"We'll probably figure out where we stand with him at James' Waltz," Owen said. "And if not there, then the Northern Ball."

"James' Waltz? Northern ball? What are those?"

"Ah, well, essentially, they're both formal dances where bloodlines negotiate," he explained. "Difference being that James' Waltz happens every two years and is for all seven bloodlines, while the Northern ball is annual and reserved for those in Tygerwel."

Amber sat up. A place where bloodlines gathered?

"But it's getting late," Owen said before she could ask more. And though the girl itched to pry, he was right. Jessy would get worried if she stayed out too late, and Aunt Tessa would ask questions.

"Who's taking me home?"

"If you want a ride, I'm right here," Matt said with a dirty grin.

"Eww, no thanks. I hate blonds." Amber wrinkled her nose.

"Uh." Matt lost his grin. "Sorry to break it to you, but you—"

"Just take the rejection," Owen laughed. "I'll take her home."

Matt scowled.

"Tch. like you haven't been getting rejected yourself."

At 11 p.m. Owen parked in front of her house. He threw on his tracksuit before they left, and the girl was back in her coat and boots.

"Here we are," he said.

Amber put her hand on the handle but paused. She turned back to him, both their faces half-hidden in the darkness the car provided.

"When's the Northern ball?" she asked.

"It's usually in August," Owen answered.

Her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it from her coat pocket.

Mr President
If you go to that dance, there's no going back.
22:26

Amber's eyes narrowed. The unknown number had been luring her into this world. Why warn her now?

Amber
Im not even invited, idiot -_-
22:27

Knowing they would not reply, she pocketed the device, and when she looked over, Owen watched her intently. Dead serious.

"I know you want answers," he started, "but believe me when I say this isn't a box you want to open. You still have a shot at a normal life. You've got an opportunity the rest of us could only dream of. Turn away and don't look back. I'll give you my word that Bowmen and I'll leave you be."

Amber clenched her thumbs at her sides.

"You think I could turn my back on my family?"

The cyng sighed, combing his hair back.

"Look, even if you prove Xavier did it, what then?" he asked. "The law can't touch him, and you're no killer."

"You haven't lost anyone important. You have no idea what I'm willing to become for them."

Amber got out of the car and closed the door, ready to leave, but the window rolled down, and Owen leaned over.

"You're right," he said. "I don't know much about losing family, but I know enough about keeping them. Either you turn your back on revenge, or you turn your back on those you still have." Without a response, he leaned back and started the car. "I'll leave you to choose," he said and drove off.

Alone, Amber stared at where the car had disappeared. The chill and darkness of the night surrounded her, but she embraced it.

Choose, he had said. And he was right. Does she turn a blind eye to secure her future? Or stare evil in the face to avenge her past? Both choices would damn her.

It was a matter of picking the lesser between two evils.

***