Fatefall - 22

Chapter 22 - Sage

Of course, I am not known for my charisma.

“Hello, I’d like to make a withdrawal,” Sage said, trying to keep his voice level. Jett’s presence beside him only served to increase Sage’s stress. 

The lady on the other side of the desk looked him up and down, her suspicion evident. Her gaze shifted to Jett and his still bruised face. She finally rolled her eyes and folded her hands neatly on the desk. “Minors are not permitted to make transactions without the presence of a parent or guardian.”

Sage shot Jett a look but he simply shrugged. 

“Ma’m, I’m doing this for my parents. I’m sure you’ve heard of Franklin and Jackie--”

“It doesn’t matter whether your parents are nobles or peasants, I am not legally allowed to permit you to make a transaction without them present,” the lady said, her voice monotone. 

“They’re not going to be happy--”

“This is my final word in the matter,” the lady said, narrowing her eyes. “Your parents will be notified of your request, so if you’d like, you’re welcome to wait in the lobby until they arrive.”

Sage froze. “You contacted my parents?”

“It’s proper procedure,” the lady said. “Now, I have other clients to see so if you’d so kindly leave--”

“My parents aren’t supposed to know about this,” Sage protested. 

The lady shrugged, indifferent. 

Jett put a hand on Sage’s shoulder, but Sage shoved it off. “Please, ma’m. They can’t know that I was here. Look, I’ll let you take whatever other money you want, I just need to withdraw right away--”

“You will not bribe me,” she scoffed, offended. Sage shrunk back against his chair. “And if you didn’t want your parents to know of your whereabouts, that isn’t our problem.”

“Ma’m,” Jett cut in, ignoring Sage’s glare. “My boyfriend’s parents don’t know about our relationship yet. We planned to invite them over for dinner tonight, but unfortunately we ran out of marks for a cake.” 

A cake? They needed way more marks than what would be used to pay for a cake. And boyfriend? It took all of Sage’s willpower not to pull away as Jett wove their fingers together. 

The lady frowned, and for a moment she looked like she was considering listening to them. 

But then there was a knock on the door and Sage’s heart stumbled as his parents stepped through the door, adopting equally worried expressions. Sage snatched his hand away from Jett’s before his parents could notice, but his father’s eyes flashed with anger. He’d seen them.

“Sage,” cried his mother, rushing to him and wrapping her arms around him. He hung limp in her grip, his mind racing and fear twisting his stomach into knots. 

“Thank you for contacting us,” his father said to the woman. “Our son has recently become ill in the head. He’s been trying to run away for weeks now. Imagine our panic when we discovered his bed empty this morning.” 

He was a master liar and a manipulator. Sage knew from experience. 

Still, his father managed to pull off the relieved and exhausted parent act all too well. He wondered how much of the emotion was real and how much was over exaggerated. 

“He was trying to withdraw from the bank,” the lady explained, her eyes drifting from Sage to Jett and back to Sage’s father. She seemed to debate whether or not to expose the lie Jett had sold her about their relationship. “It’s bank policy that no minors can make transactions without a parent or guardian present.”

“Our thanks still go out to you,” his mother said, planting a kiss on the top of Sage’s head. He bit down on his tongue to keep from grimacing. “Come, darling. It’s time to go home.”

His muscles tensed as his father grabbed his arm, hoisting him to his feet. 

He needed to get away from them, but more than that he needed Jett to escape. Sage knew that he had to be the boy his parents pretended he was---at least until they returned to the house. Which meant he needed to warn Jett in the most subtle way possible.

Sage let his father guide him out of the bank, keenly aware of Jett trailing behind them. He kept his head down, focusing on the stone road as they turned to make their way home. 

Ill in the head, Sage reminded himself. If his parents wanted to claim that he was wrong in the mind, he’d gladly play along. 

Without warning, he tore away from his parents and faced Jett, who looked startled. 

“Run!” he screamed, ignoring the hands grabbing at his arms. “Run! Get help! These people are hurting me!”

Something in Jett’s expression shifted. The fear in his eyes remained, but his lips curled into a worried smile. “We need to get you home, Sage. You’re not feeling well right now. It’ll be better when you get home.”

Fates. He recognized the signs but was powerless to stop it as his father pulled him close again, hugging Sage against his chest. His demeanor was calm but his words were low and threatening. “Don’t make a fool out of yourself, boy. Your mother and I just want to speak with you. Make another move like that and I’ll slit your friend’s throat myself. Understood?”

Sage nodded stiffly. 

He was glad that the crowd at this time of the afternoon was relatively thin. He’d been stupid to think that Jett could escape, and now he was on his own. The moment that Jett’s expression had clouded over, Sage knew that one of his parents---most likely his mother---was using her Grace. She was controlling Jett’s soul, forcing the words from his mouth. 

He clenched his fists but kept his mouth glued shut. 

One breath at a time. His father kept a hand locked around Sage’s wrist, tight enough to remind Sage of a manacle. 

His grip didn’t loosen until they arrived at the house and stepped through the doors, safe from the prying eyes of the public. Sage ripped his arm away from his father, staggering backwards until he hit the wall. 

“What is wrong with you?” he spat, heat rising to his cheeks. “You want nothing to do with me for seventeen years and the second I decide I’m done with you, suddenly I’m sick--”

“Silence,” his father ordered and Sage’s voice died in his throat. 

Cursed Grace of Soul. 

He crossed his arms, trying his best to appear intimidating, but it was challenging to ignore Jett’s blank stare and awkward stance. Fear coursed through his veins. 

His mother sighed. “Look, darling, all we ask is that you have one dinner with us. Hear us out. Allow us this one thing and then you and your friend will be free to go. Doesn’t that seem reasonable?”

Sage forced himself to nod, all the while feeling like he wanted to vomit. 

“Go upstairs and get dressed for a formal meal,” his father ordered. “I expect to see you in the dining room in ten minutes.”

He nodded again, sending one last desperate glance at Jett, with his dull eyes and slumped shoulders. He looked nothing like the Jett that Sage knew, and it pained Sage to watch him, no confidence and emotionless stare. 

Sage to his room, trying to distract himself. He changed out of the jacket and scarf he’d worn to the bank (he liked the way Jett’s eyes seemed to follow him when he wore the scarf) and into a fancier coat. As much as he wanted to disobey his father and show up in the most ridiculous outfit imaginable, Jett’s life was at risk here. The thought sobered him. 

He’d only been away from home for about two weeks, and yet it felt like a lifetime had passed. As he rushed to the dining room, the hallways felt…unfamiliar. Like they belonged to a different person. 

Sage’s parents and Jett were already seated at the circular table, a few plates of bread already distributed. Sage took a seat, noticing that he was conveniently placed as far from Jett as possible. The thought sent anger sparking along Sage’s skin. Still, he kept his mouth shut and his gaze down. 

“So,” his mother began, oblivious to the tension in the room,”what were you doing at the bank today?”

No where have you been. No we’ve been worried about you. No sign that they cared at all. 

He picked up his butter knife and slammed it through his roll. “I don’t see why it matters.” So much for trying to remain passive.

Jett lifted his own knife absentmindedly and the blade hovered over his fingers. Something like true fear flashed through his eyes and heat burned Sage’s face. He silently removed his knife from the roll and sat it down gently beside his plate before shrinking back into his chair. 

“We were going to make a withdrawal,” he admitted, feeling as though his parents were stealing the confession from him against his will. “Jett’s parents are in prison and I offered to help him pay off the bail.”

He could practically feel Jett’s gaze searing into him from across the table, but he figured Jett would forgive him considering Sage had spared his life. 

“And you thought you could use our money?” his father asked, his calm voice betraying none of his emotion. 

Sage shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “We’re not using it for anything.”

“You foolish boy!” his father snapped with a sneer. “Not using the money for anything? What do you think we live off of? The kindness of the king?”

Sage scoffed, entirely aware of the knife bobbing unsteadily in Jett’s hand. “That’s how you got rich, is it not? Sucking up to the king?”
His father slammed his fist on the table.

“Franklin,” his mother reprimanded. “Remember what we talked about.”

Sage held his breath as his father inhaled sharply and finally relaxed. Jett sat the knife on the table, though Sage didn’t miss how his fingers trembled. 

Fates, he hoped Jett could forgive him for all of this. 

“Sage, your mother and I are aware of your participation in the Tournament,” his father said slowly, cautiously. Testing the waters. “We think it would be wise of you to drop out now. I’ve already arranged for it---you’ll be diagnosed with a sickness in your mind. We’ll say that you made a rash decision when you weren’t in your right mind. They’ll allow you to come home--”

“Why would I ever want to return here?” Sage cut in, bitterness stinging his tongue. 

“Jett,” his mother warned. 

Sage glared at her. “Don’t tell me that you’ve finally decided you want me as your son. You forfeited the right to call me your son when you and father threw me out a window to try and awaken my Grace.”

Jett winced from across the table. Smug satisfaction curled in Sage’s chest as his parents fell silent.

“It didn’t happen like that,” his father protested weakly. 

Sage snorted. “Really? What, is it my sick mind twisting all of my memories into lies? Next thing you’ll tell me is that I used to love you.” His throat felt raw and his chest tightened. 

“That is enough!” his father shouted. “You will withdraw from the Tournament!”

“Over my dead body,” Sage shot back. 

“That can be arranged.”

“Will you free Jett’s parents?” Sage asked, trying a different approach. Maybe he could bargain---offer to withdraw if his parents paid the bail and then he could refuse. What would they do? Stick Jett’s parents back in prison?

“Absolutely not. If they are criminals, then they are where they belong,” his mother said. Jett stiffened, and then relaxed as the Grace of Soul must have reasserted its hold on him. 

“Then I’m not withdrawing.”

Jett lifted the knife again, and this time held it to his throat. Sage sucked in a breath and Jett’s eyes filled with terror. Fates, Sage knew that Jett’s anxiety was bad. This had to be killing him. They needed to get out of here--

“Sage…” Jett’s voice was strained. Sage clapped his hands over his ears. It’s not the real him, he told himself. The real Jett would have called me Goldie or some other pet name.

“You can put a stop to this,” his mother reminded him. “Darling, we’re just trying to protect you. This Tournament will be the end of you. Eventually, someone is going to find out about your…condition.” She glanced nervously towards Jett, the knife still poised at the tender flesh of his neck. 

“Jett already knows,” Sage said. “My whole team does, and they have yet to condemn me for it. So yes, maybe we will lose and I’ll be exposed. But y’know what? That’s infinitely better than wasting away in a home where I’m not wanted because of something I’ll never be.”

“It’s not safe for you to be competing,” his father argued. “Competitors are going missing and then there’s the whole issue regarding the stolen Graces--”

“How do you know about that?” Sage interrupted, suspicion snaking its way through his gut. 

“I’m a sponsor,” his father answered, a little too quickly. “Or at least I was. But that doesn’t matter. Listen, Sage, I know we’ve had our differences but you need to trust me when I say that the Tournament is only going to get worse. I’d prefer not to lose my only son to this foolish heroism--”

“I’m not dropping out,” Sage said, focusing on Jett. The knife dug into his skin and Jett let out a small yelp as blood trickled down his neck. “Stop hurting him!”

“Then you will obey my wishes!”

“I will never, ever obey you again,” Sage snarled. “You have berated me and hurt me more times than I can count. But I will not allow you to harm my friends. Let Jett go.” 

“Make me,” his father challenged, his lips curling upward in a challenge. 

Sage lunged, snatching his knife and aiming for his father’s throat. His arm froze midair, courtesy of his mother’s Grace. She slammed him to the floor, her Grace driving the defiance from his soul. He cried out in pain and threw his willpower against her Grace. 

Suddenly, the pressure disappeared and he leapt to his feet, spinning around wildly until he found his father. 

“Put the knife down, Sage,” his father demanded, tightening his grip on Jett, who he now had pressed against his chest. Jett’s eyes were frantic, his fingers clawing desperately at Sage’s father’s arm, which pressed against his throat. 

Sage’s blade clattered to the floor. He ground his teeth together at his father’s sickeningly sweet smile. 

“That’s a good boy.”

Sage’s whole body shook with rage and it took all of his will to refrain from attacking his father again. 

And then his father’s arm went slack and he stumbled backward. 

Jett scrambled away, panting wildly as he grabbed Sage’s wrist and wrenched him toward the door. He must have used his Grace to give my father some sort of hallucination.

“C’mon,” Jett hissed. “Let’s get out of here. Your parents really don’t have the same sunny disposition that you do, Goldie.”

Sage could’ve cried from relief, but he stayed rooted to the spot for a moment longer. He fixed the image of his helpless parents in his brain, the ruthless part of him grinning with bloodlust. He could make them suffer--

He let Jett tug him along, more than willing to play the role of shocked and fearful victim. Disgust rolled through him at his desire to make his parents pay. 

It wasn’t until they got to the main square that Jett slowed his pace, finally forcing Sage to turn and face him. He ran his fingers over Sage’s shoulders and chest, searching for any signs of harm. Sage grabbed his hands, forcing Jett to meet his eyes. “I’m fine, Jett. If anyone should be freaking out, it’s you.”

Jett nodded, inhaling sharply. “You’re right, but I’m still trying to get over the whole seeing-my-life-flash-before-my-eyes thing.”

“You don’t have to joke about this,” Sage said. “It’s fine to be scared.”

“Never said it wasn’t. I just wanted to make sure that you were really okay. Did your parents really throw you out a window?”
Sage nodded. “I’m getting better at masking my limp, I suppose. It broke my leg.”

Jett blinked. Took a step back and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fates, this is crazy. You know what? I’m not going to think about it too much.” He blew out a breath. “Actually, one more thing. Isn’t it kind of suspicious that your father knew about the stolen Graces?”

“I thought the same thing,” Sage said, relieved that at least his parents’ Graces hadn’t been able to steal Jett’s memories of the meal entirely. 

“So I kinda have a weird question, then,” he hesitated. “Your father really wants you to drop out of the Tournament, right? And he knew a whole lot about the missing competitors and Graces…”

Sage finished the thought for him. “You think my father is responsible for leaving the note and stealing the Eliminated competitors.”