Kingmakers, Graduation

17. Sabrina

17

SAbrINA

T he hour in which my father has Adrik prisoner in his car is one of the most stressful of my life. I hate that I let them drive off together. If I wasn’t afraid of making a scene a hundred yards from the Petrov house, I never would have allowed it.

When the Hellcat’s headlights finally sweep across my car, I’m relieved to see that both Adrik and my dad are still in the front seats, alive and unbloodied.

Adrik may be a little more pale and somber than he was before. My father looks the same as always.

I jump out of the Mustang, half fury and half relief.

“Why didn’t you just call me?” I demand of my dad.

“I find face-to-face conversation more honest.”

I deserved that little slap. He knows I’ve been lying to him for months .

Equally, I know there’s no point trying to avoid the tête-à-tête he drove all the way here to have. He took his shots at Adrik—now it’s my turn.

“I’ll meet you back at the house,” I say to Adrik.

He gives me a look I can’t interpret, switching positions so he’s back in the Mustang and I’m in the Hellcat.

Though it’s only been a week since I saw my dad, the scent of his car and even his surly scowl puts an ache in my chest. Why does home pull me and repel me with equal strength? Why is everything a battle? I wish I could choose like everyone else, and be happy in my choice.

My father drives away from the house once more, but not far. We pull into the parking lot of a seaside café, the shop long shuttered, only a few scattered napkins blowing across the pavement like ghostly tumbleweeds.

Dad lets the engine run so the car will stay warm. He can see that I’m stiff with nerves. My arms are crossed over my chest, angry and defensive.

I thought he’d respond with anger himself—or at the very least, irritation.

Instead when he turns, I see fear in his eyes.

“Sabrina, you are so like me. I worry what that will mean for you.”

This hurts and also reminds me that I came from this man, born of his flesh like Adam’s rib. You can’t forget your parents, any more than they can forget you.

I pretend not to understand him .

“Why worry? You’re happy enough.”

He looks both older and younger in the dim light of the car—his face smooth, his eyes ancient.

“You can’t imagine the darkness I lived in before I met your mother. I was cruel and violent. I hurt everyone around me. I had no control. I would have torn myself to pieces until there was nothing left.”

My father has always been my mirror, and me his. When we look at each other, we don’t like what we see.

Stubbornly I retort, “Maybe Adrik is my Camille.”

“Don’t insult your mother. Adrik is another Nero, not a Camille.”

This isn’t about Adrik. My father wishes I was more like my mother. But I’m not. Not even a little bit.

Fiercely I say, “I like what I am. I’m not afraid to be more.”

“You should be. You think restraint is the greatest evil—while you cut every rope that ties you to life.”

I hate being lectured. Especially by him.

“You would never have taken advice at my age! You always took what you wanted.”

“I want you to be better than me.”

“Maybe I already am.”

He shakes his head. “That’s exactly what I would have said—when I was my most arrogant and foolish. Your mother changed me. She made me better. What will Adrik make you? ”

I can’t answer that. My father is the only person who can silence me, his arguments even quicker than mine.

All I can tell him is the truth. “I want to find out.”

I’ve been angry, I’ve been frustrated—he stays as calm as the night around us. He looks in my eyes, steady and sad. “You won’t survive every lesson.”

He’s not here out of pride or hatred of the Russians, I know that. He’s here for my sake, not threatening but trying to reason with me.

I attempt to meet him on the same ground.

“Dad, I’m not exactly like you. We’re similar, it’s true—I struggle to be happy, really happy. You can understand that. You needed a Camille—maybe I need someone more like me. Adrik sees me how I see myself. He’s not another Nero. He’s not my mother either, but he’s not dark, he’s not isolated. He commands friendship and loyalty. He grounds me more than you think.”

This is the first time I’ve told anyone how I feel about Adrik. I haven’t said it to Adrik, or admitted it to myself.

My father is unconvinced.

“You’re saying what you want to be true, not what you could actually know. You have a dream of what you think life would be like with him … so did Sebastian with Yelena. Reality is much more cruel.”

I hate when he uses that as a weapon against me. His own worst mistake, and our family’s—an anvil around my neck that was forged before I was ever born.

My dad pushes on. “ I see you for who you are, Sabrina. I know your intelligence, your passion, your potential. It won’t flicker out like a candle , it will burn all your life. You have time, you don’t have to rush. Get your schooling. Grow up a little more. Then I won’t oppose you seeing Adrik.”

This is a heavy compromise from him—more than I could have expected. It has an effect on me.

I hug him, something we don’t do often. His arms are warmer than you’d think—not unlike my mom’s.

I feel safe with him. I feel loved. I know how powerfully he needs to protect me, and for once that doesn’t feel like chains.

“Thank you for coming out here, Dad. I’m glad I got to see you again before I leave.”

He kisses the top of my head, stroking his palm gently against my back.

“You’ll understand someday how much I love you.”

I’m torn in half, between the family I love and the man I want more than anything.

I turn my face against his shoulder to keep the tears back, because even with my father, I won’t allow myself to cry.