What does one wear when one needs to cover up numerous scratches and—more importantly—the sky blue piece of art that was my arm? Definitely none of the supposedly elegant dresses Dad had ordered for me for these oh-so-important dinners. A part of me wondered if he would be more upset at the sight of the injuries or the fact that the blue coloring wouldn't match any of the gowns.

Nope, a sweater would have to suffice. Dad could cry about it.

As it turned out, it wasn't Dad whose eyes took in my arguably more casual attire with a deep scowl. No, he was too busy engaging in conversation with two guests wearing the same royal blue ambassador cloaks as he was. It was my stepmother whose glare followed me to my seat diagonally across from her. As usual, she was dressed to impress.

Lips painted scarlet and arms crossed in front of a matching dress, Janice Pierce looked like she belonged in a fashion gala and not at Dad's overrated dinner. The same cold, bluish-green eyes that she'd passed onto her son took in my attire.

I didn't need to be a mind-reader to gather that if it was up to her, she would just love to send me off to my room just like she used to. Too bad I was no longer a child and we no longer lived in the countryside mansion.

A part of me wanted to ask her to rate my sweatshirt out of ten just to see her flustered, but even I knew this wasn't the place—or rather the company. So, I did the next best thing. I ignored her.

"Ariel, you remember Charlie Brooks and Denise Phillips?" Dad asked as soon as I sat down.

"Of course," I lied, putting on what I hoped would pass as an interested smile.

The woman, Ambassador Phillips, smiled and nodded a greeting at me, while the man, Ambassador Brooks, regarded me with a cold expression not unlike my stepmother's. Neither of their faces looked in any way familiar, but that wasn't much of a surprise. They continued their conversation and I folded my hands in my lap and stayed quiet like the accessory I was.

This was going to be a long evening. At least the food would be amazing. Janice and I had never gotten along, but her cooking—when she did cook—was incredible.

The table was set in white and ambassador blue, napkins folded into intricate insignias. Steaming garlic knots, golden-brown egg rolls, and palm-sized bowls of what looked like a mixed-greens salad topping with a white dressing and walnuts covered the light blue tablecloth. Glass bottles filled with water, white wine, and a deep blue liquid were strategically placed in between the appetizers.

No dew juice. Of course that would ruin the color scheme. At least that's what dearest Janice had always told me. Funny how that didn't seem to apply to her. That bright scarlet dress put everything else to shame.

I reached for the water to pour myself a glass, trying to ignore the slight shake of my hand. Multiple drops landed on the pristine white tablecloth. I clenched my jaw.

Maybe it was good there wasn't any dew juice for me to spill. After confirming that no one had seen my little mishap—not that I expected anyone to question me about it—I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip.

My initial plan had been to blend in with my surroundings and mentally prepare for my next alchemy exam by reciting the properties and instructions of various performance-enhancing elixirs, but when Ambassador Phipps—or whatever her name was—practically yelled, "Demons," all thoughts of withenra leaves were erased from my mind.

"...they showed up at the last council meeting," she was saying, exasperated. "They—they shouldn't even have seats! Damn...lowlives."

Thankfully no one was paying attention to me, because I nearly choked on my water.

"They shouldn't be part of the United Realms period," the man added before stuffing a garlic knot into his mouth.

I couldn't disagree there considering demons weren't exactly what you would call dependable or trustworthy, but maybe people like him shouldn't be either.

Dad shook his head. "Next thing you know, they'll be given ambassadors too."

I rolled my eyes. That was more than a little unlikely. Even Dad had to know that.

Genuine shock distorted Ambassador P's features and she choked on a bite of salad. "Infernis will freeze over before I let that happen," she hissed.

Wow, professional ambassadors right there. As far as I knew, only two people at this table had a genuine reason to despise the residents of Infernis, and—spoiler alert—she wasn't one of them.

"That might happen sooner than you think," Dad said. He raised his glass, took a large sip of the blue liquid, and added, "Six demons were recently admitted to NIAS."

Both ambassadors blinked at Dad, seemingly perplexed. Leave it to the human ambassadors to forget the name of the only university open to all beings.

Dad's lips curled up ever so slightly. "Northern Institute of Advanced Sciences," he clarified. "The demons—they're being closely monitored, of course, but looks like they won't be the last."

Something told me Haze didn't take too kindly to that. Too bad.

"W-what?" Ambassador B—crap, what was his name again?—clenched his fists. "What are they thinking?"

"That school is just a disaster waiting to happen," Dad said.

My hand started shaking for a different reason. That school happened to be one of the best things to happen in a very long time. In fact, if it wasn't for that school and the opportunities it provided students like me with, this world—and the others—would be a whole lot bleaker. But of course, they wouldn't see it that way.

Damn hypocrites.

"Can you believe Paula Riviera applied for chancellor?" Ambassador P said, voice suddenly ten pitches higher like she was back in high school, sharing a particularly scandalous secret.

"At least you know your sister's kid is in good hands," Dad said in that soothing ambassador voice of his. "Paula is the best person to be in charge."

I blinked. Did Dad just praise our chancellor?

"I suppose." Ambassador P sighed. "But could you imagine sending one of your kids"—her gaze snapped to me—"off to that...school?"

Good question. What do you say, Dad?

"No." Dad's stern eyes met mine. "Luckily Ariel has decided to pursue business administration right here in the city."

Wow, it was getting easier and easier for him to lie.

I straightened my shoulders and jutted my chin. Dad's smile faltered and that deep crease right between his brows became more prominent.

Did he seriously think there was even a chance in hell that was happening? That I was just going to get my degree in alchemy and fall right back into line?

Yes, that's exactly what he thought.

Maybe it was being poisoned by one of the most lethal substances out there. Maybe it was being chased through a dark forest by a monster with teeth the size of daggers. Who knew? In the end, it didn't matter. I was alive.

And it wasn't thanks to him—or anyone for that matter. I'd saved myself with all of that useless knowledge I'd acquired over the last couple of years. By myself.

I couldn't back down now and come running back, proving all of these idiots right. No. I wouldn't. Not today. Not ever.

"And Clarence will follow in your footsteps," my stepmother said, puffing her chest.

Dad's wary eyes softened and he turned to Janice, smiling. "Indeed, he will."

"Speak of the devil," Ambassador B exclaimed when the door opened and the poster child himself strolled inside. Of course, neither Dad nor his mother scolded him for being late. My stepmom simply fixed his loose tie and swiped at the collar of his freshly pressed shirt.

Whoever said threats were futile had clearly never met Clarence, because his feathers were quite clearly ruffled. Thanks to yours truly apparently, because despite smiling like the perfect son, his angry eyes kept flitting to me.

Who knew getting under his skin could be so satisfying?

A tinge of uncertainty kept me from openly smiling at him, and I hated it. After all this time, he still had that same effect on me. Just because I had finally pushed back, didn't mean anything would change. He was just too good at crossing lines. Well, that and being a general pain in the ass.

But apparently, only to me.

I watched him shake the ambassadors' hands, smiling wide, showing off those perfectly bleached teeth of his. He even clapped Dad on the back. He wasn't awkward—wasn't the rebel child that had to bring shame to the family. Nope, he was...perfect.

So who could blame me for never standing up to him? Well, not really. Unless you counted the occasional prank, which I didn't. Hiding his stupid knife, turning off the light whenever he was in the room, or whatever else my childhood brain could think of did nothing but agitate him. I'd never dared to take things too far and somehow he'd always known that.

But that confidence was slipping.

Although he appeared to be involved in the conversation that had luckily switched to recent stock market developments, Clarence kept stealing glances ranging from angry to unsure. He'd had the upper hand for as long as I could remember. Not just because he was older and physically stronger than me, but also because all that I'd held dear was slowly washed away until I was a stranger in my own family.

All I had left was alchemy. There was nothing for me here. And, as Ambassador P has worded so nicely, Infernis would freeze over before I let anyone take that away from me too.

Clarence must have seen a change in my expression because there was a strange glint in his eyes now—one I hadn't seen in a long time.

In an instant, it took me back to our mansion in the country. Tainted by Dad's need to replace anything and everything related to Mom, white walls and cold, carpetless floors, and my stepmother's terrible taste in decorations, including the same fake houseplants, it has lost everything that made it home.

For a moment I was back in my childhood bedroom, staring into the untidy space with my back to the door. The open trunk at the foot of my bed gaped at me, the void inside threatening to pull me into its inescapable darkness. Clarence's childish laughter, high-pitched and taunting, echoed through the room.

I shook my head and the memory vanished. Clarence's laugh didn't. His voice was deeper now, but that high-pitched screech hadn't changed much. My thumb lingered on the old scar on my wrist a little too long.

Ambassador B put a hand on Clarence's shoulder, laughing alongside him, because how could he not? With a face far too kind, most warmed right up to my stepbrother.

His slightly bloodshot eyes snapped to me for the umpteenth time. I almost missed the little twitch of his arm and the way his lips curled down ever so slightly.

Starting a fight I might not be able to win wasn't wise, but backing down was no longer an option. I'd done it my entire life, and for what? To be his punching bag?

We weren't kids anymore. And I had bigger problems.

If I wasn't about to let someone—whoever it might be—choose when my life ended, I sure as hell wasn't going to take Clarence's crap anymore.

Screw it. I smiled at him and raised my glass.