"The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions."
***
Lucius looked up from his plate. "Honored? Is that what we're calling public humiliation now? How progressive. Next you'll tell us getting your face ground into the courtyard was a 'valuable growth opportunity.'"
A servant appeared at my elbow. Wine glass filled. First course placed in front of me. Some kind of fancy salad with candied nuts. I kept my eyes on the greens and started cutting them into smaller pieces. Busy work. An excuse not to look at anyone.
"I deserved his rebuke." I kept my voice quiet. Subdued. "My behavior toward the kitchen maid was inexcusable. Cousin Leo showed admirable restraint in not striking me down where I stood. Another man might have killed me and been within his rights."
The table went quiet.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Father's eyebrows going up. Actual surprise. I hadn't seen that expression on him in... well, ever, if Kaelen's memories were accurate. Lucius had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth.
"How... mature of you to acknowledge your failings." Father's voice was careful. Neutral. But there was suspicion underneath. "I expected more of your usual deflection."
Lady Vivienne set her wine glass down like it was made of spun sugar. Her face arranged itself into theatrical shock. "Yes, quite the departure from your usual defiance. Just last week you were insisting that your behavior at the Thornfield garden party was everyone else's fault."
The Thornfield garden party. Right. Another Kaelen classic.
I'd read about that one. Stolen wine. Drunk. Insulted the host's daughter. Vomited in a decorative fountain. The original Kaelen really knew how to make an impression.
"I was wrong." I took a small bite of salad. Chewed. Swallowed. Bought myself time. "I've been wrong about many things for a very long time. Perhaps nearly being beaten to death by the kingdom's most promising young knight has a... clarifying effect on perspective."
"Clarifying." Lucius leaned back in his chair. He moved like a cat deciding if the mouse was worth chasing. "Interesting word choice. Self-reflection? From you? Brother, did you hit your head when you fell? Should we call a healer to check for brain damage?"
There was actual curiosity under the mockery. He wasn't just tormenting me out of habit. He was genuinely confused.
Good. Confused people ask questions. Confused people don't punch.
"Perhaps I finally realized that my current path only leads to more pain." I met his eyes for half a second, then dropped my gaze back to my plate. Submission. Deference. "I've brought shame to our family name. To a house that was once great and is now diminished, partly because of me. The least I can do is acknowledge it. The least I can do is try to be less of a burden."
"Shame?" Steel crept into Lucius's voice. "Brother, you've done far more than bring shame. You've made us a joke. Do you know how many invitations we've turned down because hostesses specifically asked that you not attend? Or should I remind you about what happened with the Thornfield girl last summer?"
And there it is.
The Thornfield incident. Chapter Three of the novel. Original Kaelen tried to impress some minor noble's daughter by showing off a spell he'd barely learned. Peacock with delusions of competence. Ended up setting her dress on fire. Second-degree burns on her leg. Her family demanded compensation that nearly bankrupted Father.
What a champion. What an absolute legend of terrible decisions.
I set my fork down. Looked directly at Lucius. Let my hands shake a little as I placed them flat on either side of my plate.
"You're right to remind me." Barely above a whisper. Just loud enough for the table to hear. "Lady Thornfield could have been seriously injured. Could have been killed. Because I was showing off. Trying to prove I was something I wasn't. An innocent person got hurt because of my pride. I've made mistake after mistake, and every time I've been too stubborn to learn. I've blamed everyone else. The instructors. The servants. You. Father. When the truth is that the problem has always been me."
Dead silence.
Even the servants along the walls seemed to have stopped breathing.
"I..." Lucius started. Stopped. His mouth opened and closed a few times. "Well. Yes. That's... that's exactly the problem. I'm glad you finally—"
He shook his head like he was trying to clear water from his ears.
"This is very strange, Kaelen. You sound like a completely different person."
I am a completely different person. The pathetic waste of space you called a brother is gone. What's left is a college student from another world trying not to get murdered by the plot of a mediocre web novel.
Lady Vivienne jumped into the silence. She never could resist an opportunity.
"Speaking of the academy," she said, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin, "I heard the most interesting rumor while taking tea with Lady Ashworth. Young Lord Blackwood, the heir who graduated last year, has been asking questions about our family's finances. Very specific questions, according to my sources."
Father's jaw tightened. The only sign that her words had landed.
"The Blackwoods have always been curious about other families' affairs." His voice stayed controlled. "Merchant background. They see the world in terms of assets and liabilities. Opportunities and risks."
"Of course." Lady Vivienne sipped her wine. "Still, one does wonder what sparked his interest now. It's not as if we've had any major financial problems recently. At least, none that would be public knowledge."
She paused. Looked directly at me. Those green eyes caught the candlelight in a way that made them look almost reptilian.
"Perhaps our recent social difficulties have drawn attention from parties who see us as vulnerable. Weakened. Ripe for exploitation."
Translation: your public humiliation made us look weak, and now the vultures are circling. This is all your fault.
Thanks, stepmother. Really appreciate the subtlety.
"I understand." The words tasted like ash. "My actions don't exist in a vacuum. They have consequences that affect the whole family. I'll try to be more mindful of how my behavior reflects on House Leone."
Father studied me for a long moment. That look again. The one that weighed and measured and always found me lacking.
"See that you do." He turned his attention back to his meal. Conversation over. I'd been dismissed.
I picked up my fork and resumed eating. The salad was excellent. The quail was perfectly cooked. The wine was smooth and expensive.
I tasted none of it.
They bought it. The confused looks, the suspicious glances, that's all good. Better they think I've had some kind of breakdown than suspect the truth.
And the truth is simple: I'm not playing by their rules anymore.
I'm playing by mine.