Who Said Life was Fair? - A Novella

Chapter Seven

There he stood, in a stylish black suit, with his straight hair combed back and that disinterested look in his eyes – the paragon  that Lucas couldn't help but feel like an imperfect copy of. They'd never spoken about the job in the last month, keeping to their usual pleasantries.

"Good. Let's begin, then." Diora's tone was immediately buisnesslike again, reminding him of when they'd first met. Is Rodric all it takes for her to retreat back into her shell? "You've surely heard the news of the king confessing he's the illegitimate son of a barbarian from the north."

"I have." Rodric raised an eyebrow. "Sadly, the southerners won't believe that. They hold their own to the highest standards. No one there would dare mix with a northerner." Lucas stared back at him nervously. What does this mean?

"The king's father would. Once we spill some propaganda, he's out of his throne. You can put whoever there next, I don't care." Diora's jaw seemed tense.

"Not good enough. Not nearly good enough. I said I wanted him out. His reputation ruined. And all you can do is a few drunk ramblings?" Lucas flinched. Rodric's words stayed monotone – but, somehow, they cut deeper than knives.

"I did what I thought would be enough." Diora looked his brother dead in the eye. "It's your fault for not giving more detailed instructions."

Lucas nearly gasped. She was here, in Aunt Primrose's beach mansion, undercover at Noemia Riel's own birthday party – and challenging a member of the richest and most influential family this side of the continent.

Rodric's eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. Outwardly, he still looked bored – but that little sign showed he was much worse than bored. He was angry.

"Well, I'll give you all the detail you want. Along with half your usual pay." He strolled off with an effortless, dramatic sigh, as if this cruel, unforgiving world was just too much to bear on his shoulders. Inside, Lucas knew he was fuming.

Diora popped another strawberry in her mouth. "Bastard." She glanced at him, before covering her mouth. "Sorry."

"You're apologizing to me?" Lucas nearly burst out laughing with relief. "I should be apologizing to you."

"For what, being related?" She snorted. "That's ridiculous. You two are nothing alike."

The phrase meant more to him than Diora would ever know. You two are nothing alike. For some reason, he felt like leaning in and crushing her in a hug.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" The question slipped out before he thought twice about it. Someone could be listening in, he thought. But they were probably safe – at this point in the party his older relatives would be too inebriated to care, and the threat of Noemia had been neutralized by her friends.

"Nope," she said, popping the p. "Only child." Somehow, he wasn't surprised. She didn't seem to understand the family hierarchy at all. Maybe it doesn't exist where she's from, he wondered. Only one way to know.

"So, where are you from?"

"That's a lot of personal questions, Lucas." He would've been embarassed by this, had this not been the first time she'd called him by his name. As it was, he felt like he'd just been struck by a meteor.

"Mhm." He hummed in agreement while trying to set his head back on track. "Sorry."

"It's no problem." She sighed. "But we won't be going on another job, so it's best not to attach yourself too much." Was that remorse in her eyes?

"Oh." He hadn't fully registered this would be the last time they'd see each other. "You're not working for Rodric anymore, then?"

"No, I'm still working for him." Lucas perked up – was there a chance? "It's just that you're not... needed anymore, is all." Her face was shadowed. "You wouldn't want to know what my next job is."