"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players."
— William Shakespeare
***
I let my knees give out.
The stone courtyard met them with a crack that hurt way more than I'd planned. Something scraped under my trousers, skin tearing against rock. Blood, probably. Didn't matter. The look on Leo's face was worth a little road rash.
His prepared speech died somewhere between his brain and his mouth.
Good. Keep that confusion going, golden boy.
"Cousin, I... I can't deny what I've done."
My voice came out rough. Higher than I'd meant it to. More pathetic. The terror was real, the absurdity was real, and it all bled into every word without me having to try very hard.
Even better. Method acting at its finest.
"I've been a disgrace to my family name. To my station. To everything my ancestors built." I let my shoulders shake. Let tears gather in my eyes. Not difficult, considering I was kneeling in the dirt in front of a guy who'd been planning to hospitalize me. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I see a pretty girl and I just... I lose control. Like some kind of animal."
Marcel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Elena take a half-step back, her upper lip curling like she'd just noticed a bad smell. Even Gareth, the human siege weapon, looked away like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.
Leo stared down at me. I watched his righteous fury leak out of him like air from a popped balloon. This wasn't in the script. Villains weren't supposed to do this.
"You... admit to it?"
He sounded genuinely lost. It was kind of satisfying, honestly.
"How could I not?" I wrapped my arms around myself, curling into a ball of misery. "You're right to be disgusted with me. Everyone should be. I'm weak. I'm worthless. I'm everything a noble shouldn't be. I bring shame to the Leone name every time I draw breath."
Come on. Where's your heroic speech now? Pretty hard to lecture someone about morality when they've already condemned themselves harder than you ever could.
"I keep telling myself I'll change. That I'll be better. That tomorrow will be different." I let out a sob that bounced off the courtyard walls. "But then I see someone like Armelle and I just..." I shook my head. "I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I know I should be punished. But please, cousin. Help me be better. Guide me. I need someone strong to show me the right path because I can't find it on my own."
The silence stretched. Somewhere in the distance, birds were singing. Someone's feet shuffled against stone.
Leo looked like someone had handed him instructions in a language he'd never seen before. His friends weren't doing any better. This wasn't how the scene was supposed to go. The villain was supposed to snarl. Fight back. Give the hero something to punch.
Not collapse into a crying mess on the ground.
"You're..." Leo started, then stopped. His hand drifted toward his sword hilt. Old habit. Protagonist instinct. Then it dropped away again, the gesture unfinished. "You're pathetic."
There we go. Let the disgust build. Let it override your hero complex. You can't righteously beat someone who's already beaten themselves.
"I know," I whispered. Small voice. Broken voice. "I know I am. I hate myself for it. Every morning I wake up and promise myself I'll be different. That today I'll finally be the man my father wanted me to be." I swallowed. "But then I just disappoint everyone again. I disappoint myself."
Elena made a noise in the back of her throat. Revulsion. Like she'd stepped in something gross. Marcel was actively scowling now, his face twisted up like my display had personally offended him. Some unwritten noble code about how you were supposed to handle public confrontations, probably. Even Gareth looked uncomfortable, and that guy probably had the emotional range of a friendly brick.
Leo took a step back. Disgust on his face, sure. But also something else. Disappointment, maybe. Like I'd robbed him of something.
You bet I did. I robbed you of your hero moment, golden boy. Sue me.
"Stand up."
I stayed where I was. Hunched over on cold stone. Arms wrapped around myself.
"I don't deserve to stand in your presence, cousin. Not after what I've done. Not when you're everything I should be and I'm..." I gestured vaguely at my own pathetic self. "This."
"Stand. Up." An edge to his voice now. Not quite anger. Close to it. Frustration at having the script torn up in front of him.
I got to my feet slowly. Made sure to wobble. Made sure to sway like standing was almost too much effort. Kept my eyes on the ground, shoulders curled forward, the picture of a man who'd already given up.
Leo looked at me for a long moment. I could almost see the gears turning in his protagonist brain. Trying to find the right response for a scene that wasn't supposed to exist.
Then he shook his head. Slowly. Almost sadly.
"You're not worth the effort."
He turned to walk away. His entourage followed. For one beautiful second, I thought I'd actually pulled it off.
Then Leo paused with his back still to me.
Of course. Couldn't let me get away completely clean, could you?
He stepped back. Shoved me. Not hard, not with real force behind it. Just enough to send me stumbling backward on legs that were already shaky.
I let myself fall. Hit the stone again. This crack was worse than the first one. Fresh pain shot through my hip and elbow. Something wet spread under my shirt. More blood, probably.
I stayed down. Committed to the bit.
"Clean yourself up, Kaelen. And stay away from the servants." Leo's voice was flat now. Empty. "If I hear about another incident..."
He didn't finish. Didn't need to.