tricks of time ― grayson hawthorne [the inheritance games]

029. A TALK

I just had to make it through dinner. An hour and a half.

Not too hard, right? A dance or two, perhaps? The live auction. All easier said than done. Alisa led me back to the pair of tables that the Hawthorne Foundation had purchased. I caught Mr. Mackendreik's eye again and he winked. A few others smiled wistfully as I passed. A little girl, who could only have been 5 or 6, looked at me with a big toothy grin, the lost teeth in her mouth like windows and chocolate coating her mouth. I couldn't help but smile.

At the table on the left, Nan was holding court among the white-haired set. Clearly, they had organized themselves more when we were gone. The table on the right was now different, half-filled with Hawthornes: Zara and Constantine, Nash, Grayson, and Xander. Thankfully, Celeste was on the other table with Rebecca, Thea, Oren, and a few others.

I made a beeline for Nan's table, but Alisa sidestepped and gently steered me to the seat directly next to Grayson. Alisa took the next chair over, leaving only three open seats- least one of which I assumed was for Jameson.

Beside me, Grayson said nothing. I lost the battle not to flick my eyes in his direction and found him staring straight ahead, not looking at me- or anyone else at the table.

"I didn't do this on purpose," I told him under my breath, trying to keep the expression on my face normal for the benefit of our audience, party-goers and photographers alike.

"Of course not," Grayson replied, his tone stiff, the words rote. He was still staring straight ahead.

"I'd take the braid out if I could," I murmured. "But I can't do it myself." His head tilted down slightly, his eyes closing, just for a moment. "I know."

I was overcome then by the mental image of Grayson helping Emily take down her hair, his fingers working the braid out, bit by bit.

My arm bumped Alisa's wineglass. She tried to catch it but didn't move fast enough. As the wine stained the white tablecloth red, I realized what should have been obvious right from the beginning, from the moment the will had been read. I didn't belong here in this world- not at a party like this, not sitting beside Grayson Hawthorne. And I never would.

___

I made it through dinner without anyone trying to kill me. Surprisingly, Jameson had vanished as soon as I'd come back from finding Grayson. His seat was still empty. I roll my eyes. The minute I find one brother, the other goes missing. It was a never ending cycle.

I told Alisa that I needed some air, but I didn't go outside. I couldn't face the press again this soon, so I ended up in another wing of the house instead, Oren playing shadow behind me.

The  wing  was  closed.  The  lights  were  dim,  and  the  exhibit  rooms  were blocked off, but the corridor was open. I walked down the long hall, Orens footsteps were trailing mine. Up ahead, there was a light shining, bright against all its surroundings. The cord blocking off this wing room had been moved to one side. Stepping past it felt like stepping out of a dark theater and into the sun. The room was bright. Even the frames on the paintings were white. There was only one person in the room, wearing a tuxedo without the jacket.

"Jameson." I said his name, but he didn't turn. He was standing in front of a small painting, looking at it intently from three or four feet away. He glanced at me as I walked toward him, then turned back to the painting.

He saw me, I thought. He saw the way they did my hair. The room was so still, quiet enough that I could hear my own heartbeat. I couldn't even hear Oren's footsteps anymore. Perhaps he'd lost me. Say something, Leah.