Behind the Lace and the Lies

2 - Thinly Veiled Lies: Brandon

Wine. Alyssa.

A carriage ride. Two white horses.

A man holding dragon skin gloves. He's angry, yelling.

An empty bottle.

A woman. Sunlight. Food.

A party. Nighttime. Fire. Laughter. Women. Sand.

The man. Father.

A sword. The man. A child.

Blink. A ledge. Wind.

A child. The man.

She was so easy to manipulate. The couple months she hid away in her father's castle had not served her well, her social skills were rather lacking and her attempt at hiding memories was pathetic.

Brandon pulled away from Alyssa. That was a letdown. Brandon had expected something interesting, after all, it wasn't often that a duke had an affair with some unknown woman then ran away. But Alyssa knew surprisingly little, she didn't even get a clear look at the woman's face.

He picked his glove off the ground and brushed off the dirt before slipping his hand back into it. He pulled the edge of his long-sleeve tunic over the end of the glove, covering any exposed skin.

Alyssa stared at him with bright, curious eyes. She tilted her head in that classic thinking way. Brandon didn't really care; he was confident in his ability to share only the desired memories.

Her eyes were pretty, but overall she was rather average. Average in looks, average in money. Apart from her father, she wasn't really interesting. But the situation with her father turned out to be boring too. Brandon had better options.

He knew has father would continue to support him. Despite every angry moment, every disappointed sigh, every little attempt to make him a better, more responsible heir, he knew that he would get his father's estate. And that should be soon now.

He turned and walked away, returning to the main part of the party. He could feel Alyssa's eyes digging into his back as he left. He didn't care much.

Back in the main part of the party, there was much more action. He noticed a large group of people standing around a table. They were by far the largest group gathered and the loudest, ranting mixed with laughter.

Brandon walked into the group, squeezing it beside Lucas and Ezra. Marie, Lucas's older sister, laughed at something and he followed along. Marie dropped her voice lower, down to a talking volume and raised her eyes, brushing her dark hair out of her face. "Did you hear that Mr. Goldski left Mrs. Goldski for some commoner. She's so pathetic even her enormous amount of wealth can't keep her man."

Lucas followed along. "I heard that Mr. Goldski left her for someone that wasn't even human."

The crowd all gasped, then broke apart into whispers and laughter.

Ezra turned to face Brandon. "Have you seen Alyssa?" he asked, "that girl needs someone to keep an eye on her. Now, with Robert gone she needs a bit more support."

Brandon glanced at him. Support? That girl needed to grow a personality. He couldn't believe he had wasted his time on someone that boring. "Yeah, she was past the hedges, over there," he couldn't stop himself from adding, "she's not worth it, man."

Ezra's attention was already gone, redirected to where Brandon gestured. "Thanks," he said absently.

"Hey, stop bugging Brandon," Marie called out as she approached the two of them.

"Yeah, yeah," groaned Ezra before vanishing.

"It's been a long time," Marie noted, looking up at Brandon.

"It has," he agreed. Marie stepped closer.

"So? How's life been for you. Where have been all this time?" she asked.

At better parties than this. Ones where people judge less and drink more. "You know, here and there," he replied casually. "I actually just went and connected with Alyssa."

"Alyssa?" She groaned, "she has the personality and friendliness of a rock, but neither the wealth or family to back that up."

"I know. I thought there might be something behind that, especially with everything involving her father. I was wrong," he attempted.

"Well, what did you see?"

Blurry memories of her bedroom, of the aftermath of her father leaving, a blurry image of the woman's face. A lot of grayness, indistinct pictures behind a dense fog. He didn't know if that was Alyssa's way of hiding things, or if it was his own inability to connect right. "Nothing interesting. She didn't even get a good look at the woman her father left with. For it being her father, she knew surprisingly little."

Marie sighed, disappointed. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Did you hear about Tieran building its military?"

Brandon quickly looked over at her, she said that far too casually. "What? Tieran is prepping for war?"

Marie backtracked quickly, "No, not war necessarily. Just rebuilding its military. I don't know, I don't think it's a big deal, it's just something I heard my aunt mention."

With the exception of the fourth goblin war, there hadn't been a war in decades. He was not about to waste his life on that. No, Marie was wrong. After Insurran defeated Tieran half a century ago and removed all of its wealth and valuable bloodlines, it was impossible that they had rebuilt so fast.

Tieran. Brandon no longer felt in the mood to connect with Marie. He saw the distinctive golden hair of Mrs. Goldski darting through the crowd by the small platform. Experiencing her sorrow would be interesting.

"Hey, I must be going. It was great seeing you and I'll see you again soon, maybe somewhere a bit more private," he said.

Marie was disappointed, but aware of the promise to connect sometime later, she said bye.

Brandon walked through the crowd, feeling causal glances. He knew it was not himself, but his father's wealth, attracting the attention, he didn't mind it regardless. He followed Mrs. Goldski as she walked through the crowd. Was this her first time being out tonight? Probably. Brandon was not the only person following her.

She walked onto the stage, where some unspoken barrier prevented everyone from following her. Her dress was sunny yellow and embroidered with images of flowers. She delicately fanned herself with a fan made of iridescent white yexris tail feathers. Her steps were precise, each one landing exactly where she wanted. Her gaze was kept forward and down, not acknowledging the presence of anyone else.

Her pain was fascinating. But it was clear she wasn't in the mood to entertain.

Her daughter had followed her onto the stage, looking just like a miniature replica of Mrs. Goldski. Her dress was pastel blue instead of yellow. She attempted to follow her mother exactly, but her childish clumsiness came through as she occasionally stepped out of line.

Brandon could feel the crowd around him, pushing, breathing, trying to look over one another to get a glimpse of the Goldskis. The crowd held its breath, only to release it when it became clear that Mrs. Goldski had no desire to connect with anyone.

Brandon turned, prepared to walk away, and bumped into Leo, sending him staggering backwards. Brandon grabbed his shoulder to steady him. "Sorry," he said.

"It's all good," Leo replied, eyes already glazed over and mind somewhere else. Brandon wanted to turn and see what Leo was staring at, but had to remind himself that what Leo was seeing was beyond his vision.

Leo began to walk away. "Wait," Brandon said, grabbing his shoulder. "Can I connect with you?" Stupid. He doesn't ask. He lets them ask; he was the one wanted. That was bad. He looked around, glad to see that no one was really focused on his conversation.

Leo paused and looked at Brandon. A moment passed, then another. Leo titled his head quizzically. Brandon fought the urge to squirm. "Okay," Leo replied at last, then, without wasting a single moment, pulled off his glove and touched Brandon's temple.