The Gemini Age: Book One

[8-2] The Certainty of Change - Part Two

    The wind whistled past the pristine glass of Ashburn House's narrow windows, the sharp sound piercing through the heavy curtains. Beyond the glass, the creaking skeletons of the surrounding townhouses provided a persistent source of intrusive noise. 

    "How much longer is Father going to make us wait?" Cole asked, his back spread over the seat of his chair. His chin disappeared beneath the neckline of his jumper, motionless save for his feet that rocked over the floorboards. "I doubt he called us out of the blue to warm the seats outside his office. What's the matter?"

    "Maybe he's waiting for you to learn proper posture." In the neighbouring seat to Cole's, Taylor fussed with the sleeves of his shirt until they rolled up in a satisfactory manner. "Looks like he'll be waiting a long time. I've never met anybody as slovenly as you, brother." 

    Picking himself up from his slouched position, Cole let his heels kick off the ground. "Or maybe he's waiting for you to relax for a change. You'll never be his favourite, no matter what you do." He folded his arms and rolled his head along the back of his chair. "We're not Tempered. We're not Sam."

    Taylor leaned back in his seat. "What about Skye? She's Tempered."

    "And? She's even less like Sam than you are." The pages of Cole's notebook scraped against his fingertips, stopping when he patted the book shut once more. "When do you meet anybody else anyway? You never leave the house." 

    "Of course I leave the house!" Though his tone was pointed, Taylor's face immediately betrayed his shock. "I go out to...post letters...now and then..."

    Stopping Taylor's next breath in its tracks, the door to the office flew open. "Come in." 

    Taylor and Cole rose as one to the power of their father's voice, and they glanced at each other before taking tentative steps towards the dark atmosphere of the office. As they passed the boundary, the bones of the house released a strained creak to join the chorus of cries echoing around the estate. 

    The fires behind their father's large chair burned with more fervour than usual. Despite the added intensity to their glow, the perpetual gloom of the office swallowed any extra light they produced. Taylor and Cole took their seats on the far side of the desk dressed in obedient darkness, and before them Byron reclined in blazing radiance. 

    Byron waved a hand, and a draught shut the door as quickly and quietly as it had opened. "No need to watch for the others. This meeting is between us alone." 

    "Really?" Taylor asked, catching his straying tone a moment too late. "Apologies, Father, but this...is unusual. Shouldn't Sam or Skye be here? They're the ones best-suited to acting in the field."

    "They are. That's why they're not here." For the first time either son could remember, Byron lifted his face to look at them both in the eye. "I have a single golden opportunity to let our family soar even higher, and it needs a more...detached approach. I feel it suits your skillsets perfectly." 

    The seat gripped onto Cole's sides to stop his fidgeting. "I...understand. What is this about, Father?"

    With a smile, Byron took a piece of paper from his desk drawers. "Political necessity, boys."

    Taylor tried to see the paper in his father's hands, but the dark veiled any words he spotted before he understood them. "Politics, Father? Shouldn't the lord be here for that?"

    "Locke is an idiot." Byron sighed, his free hand on the bridge of his nose. "His attack on the Council today could cost him their support, and we can't afford to let that happen. Our family's continued rise depends on him becoming Lord Provost, as much as it pains me to say it."