The Assailants

4. There will be Blood

It wasn't new for me to watch the Crimson couple warmly mingle with my siblings. They genuinely treated us like family, and I felt... weird. A mix of gratitude and disbelief washed over me.

Maybe it was because of my late parents, who had once been good friends with them. Growing up, I had pictured the Crimsons as distant, maybe even cold, because of what happened to my family—the confiscated books, my mother's death (which I had always suspected was poisoning), and other things too bitter to name. I felt guilty that they had never been able to protect us, their friends.

"Czar? Are you alright?" Mrs. Crimson's gentle voice brought me out of my thoughts. She had noticed me hiding in the corner. "Come, let's sit and eat."

I joined them, sliding in beside Edward, who was next to Catherine.

"Jhersy, what happened to your cheek?" I glanced sideways and realized he had taken a seat near me. His bruised face tried to hide irritation, but the faint black-and-blue mark was impossible to miss.

"I fell from a tree while practicing," he lied smoothly, trying to save face.

"Oh, what a careless boy," Mrs. Crimson said with concern, reaching as if to touch him.

"Jhersy, you're so disappointing!" Jen scolded seriously, shaking her head. Their expectations for him must have been impossibly high. I had no real idea—they were all so... polished, so perfect.

Mj's eyes met mine across the table, panic and silent pleading written in every gesture. Normally, I might have enjoyed watching Jhersy squirm, but Mj was my mentor, and when she begged, it was impossible to refuse.

"Ehem. He wasn't careless," I said, bowing my head slightly. "Actually, he was meditating on a branch when I shouted at him. He was startled... and fell. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

My voice cracked slightly, and I had to swallow hard before I could eat. My throat felt tight; the food refused to go down.

"Ahmm, can I ask a question?" Edward raised his hand.

"Of course, little man," Mr. Crimson said, eyes twinkling at him. I noticed the special warmth in his gaze—he seemed to favor Edward in a way that made me smile quietly.

"Whose birthday are we celebrating?" Edward asked, curious and wide-eyed.

"Hah! Of course it's mine!" Jhersy laughed, scooping a spoonful of strawberry cake.

"This is not just yours, Jhersy," Mr. Crimson said seriously, his gaze landing on me. My stomach sank. I lowered my head instinctively. "Have you forgotten about your birthday, Csarie?"

I blinked up at him, surprised by his smile.

"I... I was too busy with my siblings and my duties to remember it," I admitted softly. My eyes darted from left to right, avoiding Jhersy's. Birthdays had always passed me by, overshadowed by responsibilities—or worse, by the memory of my parents' absence. The day never felt special, and my own celebrations were nonexistent.

"That's too bad to hear. Don't worry, your birthday will always be celebrated with us," Mrs. Crimson said warmly. Her words should have made me happy, but instead I felt... uncomfortable. When would I ever be loved just for being me? When would my day ever feel truly mine?