"I do wish to thank you for coming," the Queen, Arista Twist said, but James almost missed it.
Sat beside her was none other than Eric Silva as mean and sullen as the last time James saw him twenty minutes ago, but this time with a bit less flour. He had changed completely into a suit that didn't quite fit his muscular build the way the last suit did (what kind of guy has a spare suit lying around? James would tell you, a weirdo). However, he missed some flour around his ear and James choked down a snort.
James controlled himself and made a slight bow, "your majesty."
"Please," she motioned him to the chair in front of the three problematic vampires. "Have a seat and we will begin."
"Of course," James nodded and did as she commanded. He could feel Eric's eyes follow him down. He could feel them skim across his skin, touching his neck, his ears, his arms and down his legs. James swallowed the lump in his throat. He cursed the day Eric Silva was born. Why was he even here? Surely, he must have known James was the matchmaker coming. If anything, it was very rude for Eric to come, knowing fully well that the two of them in a room together could only provoke a disaster. Maybe Eric was a masochist.
James scooted forward, smiling at the young people. They were all around the same age at the table. However, Frances was the eldest, only by two years. He was tall, lean like all the Twist men, but he was slouched so deeply with his nose inside his phone. He had perfectly styled hair and a crisp gray suit. His mother used her purse to whip his shoulder and he put the phone away with the biggest groan.
His brother...
Ah, James finally noticed what was wrong.
Abigale sat on edge, her face tight but her lips quivered. She smothered her emotions, shoving them so deep, no one could see them on her face. Her eyes sparkled. One word from her and she may shatter and cry her eyes out.
Collin sat beside her, staring at the table. His eyes didn't leave the table. He did everything in his power not to look at anyone, especially not Abigale. Both their eyes were rimmed with black, both their eyes blood shot and their faces pale.
James understood.
"Frances," James said, opening his palm.
"Abigale," He motioned her to the other.
She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. She just nodded and they both laid their fingers on James' hand. He held their cold fingers and closed his eyes. Warmth billowed from his heart like waves of humidity. He took a deep breath, swallowing the heat and the rocks of embers. The world around him fizzled out and burned like the blackened edges of scortched paper. He closed his eyes.
A picture faded back into view, flashes of a partnership that could be:
An unhappy marriage, but a rich friendship between them.
"Gale," She'd tell him again and again. Please just call her Gale.
"Abby," He'd say again, not listening. He only listened when it came to matters of the coven. They both knew she was wildly intelligent and their covens loved her. She was only a business partner, but my, oh my they would throw their worlds into a new golden age. It would be the age of roses. And why not? She threw herself into work.
She became the well-oiled machine that kept the lights running.
She forgot about the girl who enjoyed long walks, who liked to go out and see things and experience new things. She'd never pick up another romance book because they only depressed her. During the holidays she'd hide away, avoiding questions like, "why haven't you had children yet?"
"How long are you going to wait to have kids?"
"How old are you again?"
"Have you seen Collin? I hear he's finally gotten engaged."
So, she'd drink and she'd get mad and take it out on Frances who still wouldn't listen.
Frances would find a girl on the side who didn't grimace at the sight of him. As their empire grew, their friendship would be strained. The last straw would come when Frances' side girl bore children before Gale. They would take in the child and Gale would have to spend the never-ending centuries staring at it, hating it and wishing she never went to that meeting.
She would wish she never agreed to be a good daughter and marry whoever her mother said, whoever the matchmaker chose…
James finally exhaled and his lungs screamed with relief. Sweat formed along his brow and he was still trying to catch his breath. It was like hitting a wall after running three miles straight with a stitch in his side and everything. Suddenly, a silver handkerchief appeared in front of his face. Behind the silk, Collin half smiled.
"Thank you," James smiled and accepted it.
He took a second to pull himself together, giving an encouraging smile to the parents. Eric caught his eye again. Eric had crossed his arms as he studied James. James wasn't sure what this dead expression meant. He handed the handkerchief back, extending his hands once more, "Gale? Collin?"
Abigale perked up, her eyes widening just a moment. He hadn't meant to call her that, but it just slipped out. He just felt as if he knew her now. He squeezed both their hands and he gasped, thrown into a series of images of the past. That wasn't what he was going for, but Collin was thinking about his precious memories so strongly, he'd force them upon James like an oncoming train.
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