“Yeah, fuck you too,” I snap, and I storm out of there.
Fuck her and the lupus bear she rides on.
3
Strol
It’s been two days since the stampede and flood, and after that initial shouting match with my father, he hasn’t spoken to me since. Imagine my surprise when he sends Sarah my way.
“Father wants to talk to you,” she tells me.
I'm staring off at the rising sun. Normally, I'm not awake at this hour, but I have to admit that I'm more than a little bothered by what happened. The buildings… I walked through the wreckage last night, as much as the builders would allow. Apparently, my father had ordered them to not let me help. I don't understand him at all, but worse, I don't understand myself. Yes, Sarah dared me to do it, but I didn't have to listen. I wanted to do it. No one forces me to do anything, but the consequences… Mom always says that actions have consequences, that responsibilities require owning up to the consequences, and then Father always returns that I'll never be responsible then.
Yet, he’s not letting me help to correct my mistake, so he’s keeping me from my consequences. He’s the one not letting me be responsible.
Not that I’m a builder. I would probably just get in the way and make the recovery take that much longer. The people have been dispersed, away from their houses and objects, and it’s all on me. They don’t know when they’ll be able to move back into their homes, and at least one building was completely leveled. Who knows about the structural integrity of the others?
“I don’t want to talk to him,” I grumble.
“I don’t think you have a choice in the matter.” She bites her lower lip. “Strol, I’m sorry about all of this.”
I ignore that and ask, “How did he even know I’m awake?”
“I told him you are.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I was trying to see—”
“I don’t need Father’s pet to put a good word in for me,” I snap.
"Strol, shut your ovian mouth, and listen to me."
I narrow my eyes and finally look over at her for the first time since she approached me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for this to happen.”
“I didn’t either, but…” I grin recklessly. “I’m just sorry that we never did get to try the raw meat.”
Her eyes widen, and she laughs. “Maybe one day.”
“Not bloody likely,” I grumble. “Father’s more liable to eat me raw. Skin me alive. Kill me.”
“He won’t kill you,” she protests. “He’ll yell. You’ll yell back. You’ll both get over it eventually. That’s what always happens.”
“Not this time. Father’s never been this ovian furious with me before.”
“I… I know,” she murmurs helplessly.
“I honestly think that if someone had died, that he would have had me killed.”
“No, Strol. Never. Father wouldn’t ever do that.”
“Father doesn’t love me. It would be no sweat off his back if I were killed.”
“No. You’re wrong.”
“I’m not, and I’m sure this little talk with him will prove it.”
I follow Sarah to the centuricmobile. The driver waiting inside takes us to the building where the overlord’s office is the topmost floor. Only the best for the overlord. Whatever he wants, he gets.
Except for an obedient son.
The office door is open once I climb the stairs. I go to knock on the door to announce my arrival when I spy Mom sitting at the table next to Father. He’s standing. The man hardly ever sits, but he isn’t staring outside the window. No, he’s glowering at me.
Despite myself, I gulp and enter the room. Sarah and I argued on the ride over. I didn’t want her to be here for this, but she’s my twin, and she’s just as stubborn as I am.
She, however, listens to Father more than I do. She does everything he asks of her, but she also does try to push the limits too, just not as much as I do. As a result, she’s better able to cover her tracks than I am.
I clear my throat and move to stand behind a chair at the large table. “Father. Mom.” I nod to them and wait for the overlord to tell me to sit.
Instead, his gaze shifts back to the door.
"Sarah, you may stay, but do keep your mouth shut because this does not concern you."
“Yes, Father,” she says dutifully.
The moment her fingers touch the back of a chair, Father waves a hand. "You can sit."
She pulls out her chair and sits.
But when I go to do the same, Father barks, “Stand.”
“Yes, Overlord Nestrol,” I say evenly.
His nostrils flare. “Yes, that’s right,” he says coolly. “I am here as your overlord, not your father. You should be grateful for that because if I—”
Mom clears her throat.
Father’s gaze softens as it always does when he looks at her, and I’m grateful she’s here.
“Strol, you think yourself a daredevil. You act as if you can do whatever you want, and that is simply not the case. Not anymore. You’ve caused enough trouble and endangered far too many lives with your shenanigans.”
I can’t help grinning.
"You're an ovian bastard," the overlord says.
I lift my chin. “I don’t deny it, but can you, for one second, think—”
“How dare you ask me to think when you haven’t thought once your entire life? You need to think, to act, to do better. You aren’t cut out to be the overlord once I’m gone. I’m going to have to live forever, aren’t I? Under your rule, the Kurians would all die out!”
“I never asked to be overlord,” I snap.
“Is that why you act out? Because you want me to pick someone else to be overlord?”
“I don’t understand why you get to designate one of your offspring to be overlord after you,” Mom cuts in. “I thought it wasn’t a matter of blood.”
The overlord huffs. “No, it’s never been by blood. No overlord has
