CHAPTER THREE

ALL SAINTS

Bard

Bard sat down heavily in the passenger seat, leaned back into the headrest, and pressed the heels of his palms to his closed eyes. His anger had expanded into an unnaturally still rage. Not at Kai—but at himself. For being such an unforgivable fool. For believing, even questioningly, that Kai could have been interested in him for himself, could have felt a true connection with him. For wishing it had been real. For letting himself want when he had told himself he would not want again.

Victory started the car and pulled away from the curb, glancing worriedly at Bard but saying nothing. They drove in silence for a few minutes.

“Bard?” Cassandra said softly from the backseat. “What happened? Are you OK?” She leaned forward, her hand on her brother’s shoulder.

He threw his hands off his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding huskier than he wanted. “Yes. Just—Cass, you told him I write for MMW?”

She sank back down in the seat. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Did you tell him before or after I met him?”

“I told him before you met that you wrote for them, but I didn’t show him your article from the latest issue until after. I know you want to stay anonymous, but he was so interested, Bard, and I thought I was helping—”

“Helping whom? Him? Or me?”

“You!” Cassandra cried. “Well, me, at first. I just wanted to impress him. But then after you two met, I thought—I know you want to perform, and you need a band, so....”

Bard groaned. “Cass, I don’t need help from my little sister to form a band! Meddling in my life like this—you’re as bad as... as... the General.”

Cassandra let out a short whimper. “Bard, that’s not fair.”

“Bard, Cass meant well,” Victory said. “Don’t take whatever Kai Harper did out on her.”

Bard put his hands back up to his face, rubbing up and down. “Ugh, I know. You’re right. I’m sorry, Cass.” He sighs. “Wait, Harper is his surname? I thought it was some stage thing. How did you find that out?”

“Barman,” Victory said. “I found out more, too.”

“Do I want to know?” Bard asked.

“You might.”

“Bard,” Cassandra said, “I know how you are. If he’s such an arsehole, let it go. Victory, trust me, he’ll obsess over it.”

But when Bard and Cass got out of the car at their house, Bard took two steps toward their front door and stopped.

“Bard,” Cassandra said. “Don’t.”

But he turned and went back to Victory’s car and tapped on the window. She looked up, her blue eyes blurry through the wet glass. He motioned for her to come in with them.

“You’re going to regret it,” Cassandra said.

“Oh, no doubt about that,” he replied.

She shook her head and unlocked the front door. The three of them went straight upstairs, and Bridget peeked out of her room when they were on the landing.

“You lot are home earlier than I—oh!” She broke off when she saw Victory. “Hello.”

“Mum, this is Victory—from work,” Bard mumbled.

Bridget couldn’t seem to muster words for a moment. “Well, aren’t you a unique girl!” she finally said. “Bard has talked about you. Call me Bridget.”

Victory held out her hand. She was putting on her poshest manners, even if unintentionally. Bard winced inwardly.  

“How do you do, Bridget,” Victory said. “You’re a wondrous woman for raising people like Isambard and Cassandra.”

“Oh, well, ta very much. I’m proud of them,” Bridget said, flustered. “Well... I’ll leave you to... ah, well—good night.”

She closed her bedroom door, and Cassandra giggled.

“She’s gotten the wrong end of the stick,” she whispered. “Her little boy, growing up, bringing home girls!”

“Quiet,” Bard said through his teeth.

“Just tooling with you, Bard.” She stood on her toes to peck his cheek. “I won’t meddle again. Unless whoever you set your cap at next doesn’t deserve you. I’ll be your worst nightmare then. G’night, you two!”

She sailed into her room, giggling again.