Iridescent

Chapter 21

Meredith

I couldn't remember the last time we all were in the same room—together.

Was it when Stasia was born? No. Tomas?

Roman and Braden stayed close to each other and Regina was by Griffin and Tomas. We were all waiting for Stasia to make her late appearance, but there was something in the air. I could tell—because even Lyall could barely look me in the eye.

He felt it too—if he didn't already know it.

You think—breathing the same air with someone for eighteen years would build some trust or something.

"Sorry, sorry," A voice broke through the door and Stasia scurried in, her crown braid tattered and all, "Sorry I'm late." She found all of our eyes on her and held her breath, "Um—did I miss something?"

Roman spoke up, narrowing his eyes at her, "Tomas made it a point that he wanted everyone here."

She made her way to Griffin's side, who was just a few feet away from me, flushed, and I wondered where she had possibly been all morning. Irina mentioned that she was out of bed when she went to wake her.

I always made a point that 'All hell would break loose if Stasia rose before the devil did', not knowing that I could possibly see the day.

The thought certainly didn't bring me any comfort now.

"Alright then," Tomas made it to the center of our broken circle, not trying to look into too many eyes at once. His hands shook a little as he looked at Roman for a second and then traced his eyes to mine for a moment. I hadn't come across Tomas many times in my lifetime, but anyone with a considerate bone in their body could tell that he was shaking like a leaf. "I just—" he stopped and the silence in the room seemed to swallow him whole.

He froze just then—trying to find the right words in his mind, and I felt my clammy hands twitch at my sides. I looked at Stasia, to see her mirroring her brother's expression, the same worry reaching their faces—their brows shaping in the same furrow, both of their green eyes reflecting a white.

Both of their expressions very much fell from their mother's face—knowing it all too well, repeating the same look I have seen many times over.

"I should probably start speaking now," Tomas glanced towards his sister, which only caused more confusion. He looked towards his mother, rolling his lips tightly, before he finally drew his eyes upon his father, whose gaze hasn't wavered from his son. "Part of the reason I came back—" He paused, and I realized that he wasn't trying to develop the words in his mind, but just speak them.

Stasia's voice eased Tomas' face, "Go ahead, Tomas. We are listening. It's okay."

I looked towards her, seeing her worry for him—and her eyes found mine. I reached with a smile, feeling relaxed when she returned the favor.

"Father," Tomas choked out, sucking in a breath, "I think it is best that I should not be the King of Irklian."

I take it back—hell breaking loose was not on the list for today.

Hell raising was.

Roman's silence leered over the room, and it scared me that not a muscle on his face moved. Even his eyes were stiller than stone. I couldn't take my eyes off him—watching him stay impossibly silent—everything in him seemed to stop in that moment.

"What gives you the right to say that?" Roman's mouthed the words.

Tomas swallowed, looking as if he expected that from his father, "Because, I have the right to choose, Father."