Chapter 7
Julian was seventeen the last time he came to Blackthorne.
Two years before his death.
He had refused the signet.
Refused council lessons.
Refused an arranged future role beside me.
I had been fourteen.
I remembered him arguing with Father.
I did not understand why.
Gideon did.
“Julian wanted out.”
“Out of leadership?”
“Out of Bellandi.”
That surprised me.
He planned to leave after college.
Use our mother’s maiden name.
Move west.
No crews.
No family role.
My father was furious.
But not violent.
Important.
He threatened to cut Julian off financially.
Julian laughed.
Then Wesley did something worse.
He began telling the elders Julian was unstable.
Weak.
Unreliable.
A danger to succession.
I looked at Gideon.
“You let him.”
Gideon closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The Old Table believed one rebellious child could teach others rebellion.
So they isolated him.
Not locked doors.
No chains.
Something quieter.
Exclusion.
Rumors.
Family members instructed not to include him in decisions.
Every argument used as proof.
Every emotional reaction labeled instability.
Eventually Julian stopped trying to explain himself.
Then he died two years later when his car left an icy road.
No sabotage.
Gideon insisted.
I believed him provisionally.
But afterward Wesley used Julian’s death as a warning.
“Children who leave structure lose protection.”
My stomach turned.
He transformed tragedy into propaganda.
My brother died in an accident.
Wesley made it sound like fate punished disobedience.
Gideon looked ashamed now.
“Your father ended the Table’s youth program after that.”
There.
The real history.
Not continued tradition.
Ended.
My father shut Blackthorne to children after Julian died.
He blamed the culture around the Table for making his son feel unwelcome in his own family.
Then why did Wesley claim Father approved Hazel?
Because he was using older rules my father had specifically rejected.
I looked at Gideon.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And still waited for my daughter.”
His face broke.
“I thought your father regretted ending it.”
“Did he say that?”
“No.”
Then:
“Wesley did.”
May you like
Everything returned to Wesley.
Again.
