The Past

Rosaire sat in silence at one end of the dining room table, his father directly across from him. Wiley was seated to his left, the boy’s loud munching and the ticking of a grandfather clock the only sounds filling the air. 

An array of steaming food lay atop the silk table cloth before them. The silk’s rich, royal-blue hue glistened beneath the light of the ornate, crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling. 

For courtesy's sake, Rosaire would always eat whatever was put in front of him but tonight...he’d yet to take a single bite. He simply sat there in silence, cutting the meat on his porcelain plate into smaller and smaller pieces. 

At last his father seemed to take notice, his gaze drifting from Rosaire’s plate to his face before raising a brow. 

Rosaire’s hands at last stilled, his shoulders stiffening as he carefully lowered his fork and knife. With his expression blank, he finally spoke. “Father…”

The sound of his voice sent a wave of shock rippling through the servants lining the dining room. Rosaire had never spoken during a meal before. 

Even his father was unable to mask the brief look of surprise that flashed across his face. Upon composing himself, he gave a sharp nod. “Speak, child.” 

Rosaire’s fingers tightened around the cool silver of his fork and knife, letting out a small exhale. “I would like to bring attention to an act of unacceptable behavior displayed today.” As he spoke, his gaze involuntarily flickered to Wiley. 

To his shock, the boy didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. If anything, he appeared rather amused that Rosaire was actually carrying through with his threat to report him. Their eyes briefly met and a grin instantly spread across Wiley’s face, realizing Rosaire had been looking at him.

Rosaire immediately averted his gaze. 

Wiley gave a small snort of laughter at the action, crossing his arms behind his head as he casually leaned back in his chair.

Rosaire’s expression remained icy, and he did everything in his power to ignore the angry flush rising beneath his collar as he continued, “This afternoon, Wiley placed an array of marbles in the hallway, purposefully causing me to trip. Father, I think we can both agree such behavior mustn’t be tolerated.”  

After a moment, his father gave a small nod. “You’re correct. Unacceptable behavior was indeed exhibited today.” 

For the first time since dinner had begun, Rosaire’s grip on the silverware finally relaxed. He’d been clutching them so tightly they’d left red marks against his palms. Feeling rather pleased with himself, Rosaire replied, “Thank you, Father. I’m glad we both--”

“Rosaire, your behavior just now was utterly disgraceful.”

A stunned silence followed His Holiness's statement. One servant’s hands flew to her mouth, stifling as gasp as the others exchanged a series of shocked glances. 

Rosaire’s eyes had gone wide, a wave of horror crashing over him at the words. 

His father brought his knife to the duck on his plate, sinking it down hard into the honeyed meat. “I asked you to welcome this child into our household and within a week you’re already attempting to shame him.” He shook his head, driving his knife down so hard it scraped across the plate, causing an ear-splitting screech to sound through the room. “I knew others would be cruel to him due to his blood, but Rosaire...I never expected it from you. I’m extremely disappointed.” 

The statement caused Rosaire’s icy expression to instantly shatter. He shrank down in his seat, his face flushing red as his cheeks burned in humiliation. A heavy silence followed, his father resuming his meal as if nothing had occurred.

Rosaire was left caught in a whirlwind of frantic thoughts. Why was His Holiness defending this strange, outrageous boy? If Rosaire had done such a thing, surely his father would have...would have...

He shuddered at the mere thought. 

So why was Wiley different? 

 ***

That evening, Rosaire added a fourth hour to his nightly prayers as recompense for his actions.  His legs had already grown numb beneath him, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Rosaire was so consumed by his prayers he didn’t even hear the first knock that sounded against his door.

The second knock came louder. The bang reverberated through the room, jerking Rosaire from his silent meditation. Slowly, he lifted his head, his brows drawing together in confusion. Mrs. Gardet almost never called on him so late at night. Had something happened?  

He glanced over his shoulder, murmuring a quiet, “Come in.” 

A growing stream of light flooded the dark room as the door opened with a creak. Revealed at the threshold was not Mrs. Gardet and Rosaire’s expression instantly grew cold at the sight of who he found standing there instead. 

Wiley was just a silhouette against the door frame, the hallway’s golden light framing his wiry figure. 

“No need to look so disappointed,” Wiley mused, his fingers casually lacing behind his head. 

Rosaire instantly snapped his head back towards the bed. “Get out.” 

“And if I don’t?” Wiley questioned. 

From behind him, Rosaire heard a floorboard creak. He froze, his mouth drawing into a hard line at the realization that Wiley had just stepped into his room. “Then you would leave me no choice but to drag you out myself,” Rosaire stiffly replied, his gaze fixed on the wall across from him.

A second creak sounded, then another. “Really?”

“Really.”

A long silence followed.

Rosaire nearly sighed in relief, thinking Wiley had at last taken the hint and left. This fleeting calm was instantly shattered however, by the murmur of a voice directly beside his ear, “Alright then, let’s see you actually do it.”