The Secrets of Lore Seymour

5. Dad Mode

Cyan P.O.V.

"Why is that rotting sack of belligerent assetry here?"

"We've told you why at least three times," Draven growls. He grasps my wrist to prevent my further pacing. With a single tug, I fall onto the couch beside him. The pads of his fingers manage to break through many layers of clothes to touch my skin. His touch is searing hot. I shiver and rip my hand away.

He frowns while mumbling, "Sorry."

Turning away from Draven and his frustratingly handsome mug that I kinda want to punch all the time, I look at Lore for answers. He sits at his desk, elbows resting on the surface while his chin's perched atop his hands. He watches me with a sharp gaze. One that frightened me at first when I saw him at Trinia Cathedral, walking through the temple of an enemy without an ounce of fear. He stared down the Prophet as if she were nothing more than an unpleasant bug in his path. He terrified me, while also giving me a strange form of hope.

"I know the bullshit lie the church gave us for why he's here. I'm asking why you're letting him stay," I say, trying to keep my voice calm but stern. Unfortunately, that's not a skill I've been graced with.

If the church really wanted to, they could tell Seren to kill us, send more paladins or champions if he fails and rid the world of this whole family. No one would do anything about it. There'd be no investigation by the police, the monarchy, no one because the church can devise any excuse they want and make themselves appear to be the heroes.

"We all know what he is, what he's capable of," I add. "None of us are safe--"

"And neither is he," Lore interjects, silencing me immediately.

I'd never speak over him. I owe him my life and, frankly, he's the closest thing I've ever had to a father. The sperm donor wasn't exactly top tier Dad material, or even bottom tier Dad material. He was, however, top tier shit material.

"Seren knows not to trust us and that we will not trust him. He won't step out of line when he's in enemy territory unless we make him," Lore adds.

"Or the church makes him," Arline grumbles under her breath. Lore takes notice. We all do. Rising from his desk, he sits beside her to place a gentle hand atop hers, squeezing slightly before resting his hand in his lap.

"We aren't to cause harm to Seren. The last thing any of us want is the Holy Church having an excuse to send their militia here, even if the thought of butchering those fools does bring me immense joy," he whispers the last bit like a spell of his own, eyes blazing bright.

"Aren't they trying to find an excuse to do that already?" I ask, gesturing at the door as if that piece of grimy bird shite is out there. "He isn't here to look for a terrorist group. He wants to find something on you because Nosa, hell, all of Silra proves that we can live together harmoniously. You give people hope and the church crushes that every chance they get."

"Harmoniously is a bit of an exaggeration. Crime and discrimination continues to be rampant. It merely pales a bit in comparison to elsewhere," Draven speaks up, earning a narrowed glare from me.

How come he only speaks to annoy me? I'd say it's because of The Unspeakable Incident, but he has done it ever since I arrived at Seymour Manor eight years ago. Always picking a fight. Always nitpicking. He's such a nag. It's a shock he isn't the House Mother running after the children, although that may be exactly why Lore chose Arline. She actually lets them breathe!

I'm about to pick a physical fight with this jackass when Lore says, "That very well may be why Seren's here, but we can't be certain. Your jobs are to protect the children, our home, and keep your eyes on him. He'll be keeping his eyes on us, of course, and snooping about the estate."