Who Said Life was Fair? - A Novella

Chapter One

"I hate this." Lucas fiddled with his red bow, trying his best to tame his wild curls as he stood in the Riel family porch, clad in the world's fanciest black suit. Not that it would do much to help his disheveled appearance.

"I hate this I hate this I hate this. Why do we have to go to this ball again?" he complained, knowing full well he was alone. Well, he had the elaborate lampposts and polished marble stairs for company, he supposed.

"Life isn't fair, Lucas." A stony voice made him jolt up. Alone, huh? Never for long in this house.

His twin brother, Rodric, stood in the doorway, hands perfectly poised and face impassive, as he scanned Lucas' outfit with his judging gaze.

In his faraway childhood, he'd often wondered how two identical twins could be so different in posture – one an unyielding pillar of rock, the other a fleeting leaf in the wind – but both share the same freckles, the same chestnut curls, the same honey-colored eyes.

Today, he wasted no time on wondering.

They weren't identical anymore, hadn't been for many years in fact. His brother's freckles had been burned away by laser therapy, his curls tamed and straightened until they were merely a shell of their former self. His eyes, though, were the same. Rodric thought contacts were bothersome.

"I know that. Obviously." Lucas stood up straighter, mimicking his brother's careful stance. Life in the Riel family, he knew, was a game of sounding smarter than you actually were.

He'd never been very good at it.

Rodric scoffed. "Of course you do. Come on, Aunt and Uncle won't wait forever." He pretended to shake an invisible speck of dust off his coat. Lucas knew it was spotless, but this was his brother's way of saying we're done here.

With a sigh, he followed him into the mansion. Aunt Primrose and Uncle Jordan were just about the most boring, shallow individuals you'd ever meet – their only redeeming quality being their huge mansion with lots of hiding spots.

Lucas suppressed a snicker behind his expensive gloves – he'd probably be disowned if he ever let those words leave his mouth. Fortunately, no one could hear his thoughts yet.

"Oh, Lucas darling. We were wondering where you were." Aunt Primrose's voice was like slightly burnt caramel – sweet, but with an unmistakable charcoal edge. Still, he managed a smile.

"I suppose Rodric could've been a bit quicker in finding me." A sloppy redirection of blame, his brother could've managed much better – but he was off the hook for now. His aunt's gaze fell on his brother, and he was free to slip away once more.

He wandered the mansion, delighting in the cold sea breeze. It was his aunt and uncle's summer house, just off the coast of Feyrgania. A retreat of sorts, they always said. Lucas despised the term, but the fresh air and open windows were nice.

"It's great, isn't it? Mother never lets me come here alone. I honestly don't get why. Felicity and I get along just fine, don't we, Lucas?"

Here comes the snake, he thought.

His cousin Noemia's voice was like store-bought medicine – so saccharine, it almost made you sick, with a faint hospital tang behind it. Her snow-white hair, falling just above her shoulders in a flawless trim, also helped this vision.