Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            “Right?” She grins. Owen and Lowe exchange a commiserating look. “I know this has nothing to do with me,” Gabi continues, “but Owen is the only person who’ll talk to me at the Nest. He told me about your friend, and I’m sorry that happened to you. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, the uncertainty.”

            Her words are disorienting, because no one else has said them to me before. In my quest to find Serena, people have helped me, mocked me, dismissed me, nudged me, but no one has stopped to tell me they were sorry. A thick feeling rises to my throat. “Thank you.”

            Owen makes a gagging sound. “How touching. Moving on to more entertaining topics and the reason for this meeting.” His lilac eyes settle into mine. “I’m going to take over Father’s seat on the council.”

            I must have misheard. “What?”

            “I’m going to take over Father’s seat on the council.”

            Nope, I heard correctly. “Did Father . . . die?”

            Owen tilts his head. “Do you think I would neglect to inform you if Father died? Actually, I could see myself doing that. No, Father is alive. But I am in disagreement with many of his decisions of late. Many. I think I could do better, and I decided to make a bid for his seat. I’d love your support.”

            “My support?” I push away from the car and disentangle from Lowe, facing my brother. My cuckoo-bananas brother. “Making a bid? That’s not a thing people do.”

            He shrugs. “It’s a thing I’m doing.”

            “How?”

            “I’m happy to share my plan in detail. In two weeks, at the annual meeting, I plan to—”

            “Do not share.” I look between Lowe and Gabi, who seem engrossed in our exchange. “You know what the punishment for high treason is?” He must, because I do, and I never know shit. But I do remember what happened when I was seven and Councilwoman Selamio’s brother tried to steal her birthright from her, or when Councilman Khatri died suddenly, without naming which one of his two sons would inherit the position.

            Slaughter, that’s what happened. Lots of purple spatter. Father would never react to having his seat usurped with anything but bloodshed. And by his lazy, hedonistic son? “He’s not just a member, Owen. He’s the leader of the council.”

            “Unofficial.”

            “Bullshit.”

            “And anyway,” he continues like he didn’t hear me, “his prominent position could be in my favor. Lots of councilmembers are dissatisfied with the way he’s been seizing power.”

            Wild. Buck wild. “Who knows about this?”

            “I have been slowly spinning a web of allies. Establishing tactical collaborations.”

            He’s dead. My only sibling left is as good as dead. “Why?”

            “It seemed prudent.”

            I pinch my nose, because—fuck. Fuck. “Do you even want to be a councilman?”

            He shrugs nonchalantly. “Why not? Could be fun.”

            “Owen. Just . . .” I bury my face in my hands and Lowe stands from the hood of the car, coming to massage my shoulders in this moment of desperate need. I suppose he’s trying to be comforting, but I feel his amusement in my bones.

            Maybe I could punch him and Owen. Just a little bit. Wouldn’t that make me feel better?

            Yes. Yes, it would.

            “Misery. My sister.” He shifts to the Tongue. “You are displaying more feelings than usual. Are you not well?”

            I straighten and take a deep breath. Even though Owen and I were born three minutes apart, clearly I’m the adult. “Listen, I’m really trying to find that bitch Serena, and I’ve grown really fond of Lowe’s annoying little shit of a sister. Unfortunately, they’re both really good at getting themselves in trouble. So if you could avoid making my life even harder because of some half-assed plan you put together two hours ago out of spit and shoelaces—”

            “Three months ago.”