Family Secret

Chapter 10

The courtyard buzzed with polite chatter, families exchanging greetings while children clung to their parents or wandered curiously. Polished brass lanterns along the walkway glinted under the late afternoon sun, casting a warm glow across the immaculate hedges and perfectly laid stones. The air carried the faint scent of oil and gears from the carriages mixed with the fragrance of clipped roses.

Ryan kept his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes narrowing as he quietly scanned the crowd. He could hear fragments of thought drifting into his mind—worries about uniforms, parents tallying tuition payments, children dreading exams. It was almost too much noise until a small, high-pitched voice broke through.

A boy with a mop of curly red hair barreled toward them, nearly tripping over his own shiny black shoes. His pale skin was dusted with freckles, and his oversized round glasses slipped down his nose as he grinned, exposing a set of large buck teeth.

“Hi!” the boy chirped. “I’m Clint. What’re your names?”

Ryan blinked but answered smoothly. “I’m Ryan. This is my twin sister, Kyan.”

Kyan offered a cheerful wave, her eyes bright. Clint’s already-wide grin somehow stretched further. “Twins? Really?! That’s amazing! Can you guys, like… talk to each other in your heads? Or feel when the other’s in pain? Like in the movies?”

Ryan chuckled, forcing a shake of his head. “No. We don’t have powers. Sorry.”

The lie rolled off his tongue with practiced ease. His chest tightened at the thought of anyone finding out about their abilities. If The Order ever discovered them… no, he wouldn’t let it happen.

Clint shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “That’s still cool. Wanna be friends?”

“Yes, yes!” Kyan squealed, bouncing on her toes.

Ryan gave a little scoff but shrugged. “Sure.”

While Clint beamed, Ryan slipped quietly into the boy’s thoughts. Brilliant. Clint’s mind practically oozed facts and numbers—advanced math, history dates, scientific formulas. He was exactly the kind of genius Ryan could use. Perfect.

Before Ryan could probe deeper, a couple approached, waving warmly. Clint’s parents.

His mother was a plump woman with glossy auburn hair pinned neatly under a feathered hat, her gown laced with brass accents that gleamed like copper. She smiled sweetly at Alexia. “My, aren’t you just radiant! So beautiful and so young, dear. I’m Margaret, and this is my husband, Thomas.”

Thomas extended a hand toward Nate. He was tall and lean, his spectacles catching the sunlight, his vest lined with neat gold stitching. “Pleasure. And what line of work are you in, Mr…?”

“Nathaniel Atkins,” Nate replied smoothly, shaking his hand firmly. “I’m a psychiatrist. I work at the psychiatric hospital just outside of town.”

Margaret gasped lightly. “Oh my, how admirable! That must be so difficult, such a serious career.”

“It has its challenges,” Nate said, his tone perfectly measured.

Thomas glanced at the twins. “And these are your children?”

“Yes.” Nate’s expression softened just slightly as he rested a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Their mother died giving birth to them. I raised them on my own until a year and a half ago when I met Alexia.”

“Love at first sight,” he added, flashing a smile in Alexia’s direction.

Margaret clapped her hands together, beaming. “How wonderfully romantic!”

Thomas, however, arched a brow. “Forgive my bluntness, but how does a man of thirty-two convince a woman so young to marry him?”

Nate chuckled low in his throat, shrugging as his gaze lingered on Alexia a moment too long. “Like I said—love at first sight.”

Alexia tilted her head, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. “Besides, I prefer someone who’s mature and… experienced.”

Margaret blinked, slightly flustered. Thomas opened his mouth, clearly unsure how to respond, but before he could, a light bell chimed through the courtyard.

All conversation hushed.

From the far end of the courtyard, the Headmaster strode forward.

He was an older man, tall and broad-shouldered, with silver-streaked hair slicked neatly back. His coat was long and navy, embroidered with bronze gears and clockwork motifs, polished buttons glinting in the light. A cane topped with a copper raven’s head clicked against the stones as he walked, though his posture suggested it was more of a statement than a necessity. His dark eyes carried both sharp intelligence and an unspoken warning—this was a man who saw everything.

At his side stood a woman, the Assistant Headmaster. She was striking in her presence, clad in a fitted teal gown with steel-gray trim, every line of her outfit immaculate. Her hair, the color of ink, was coiled into a bun secured with silver gear-shaped pins. She held a stack of papers against her chest, posture rigid, her sharp features softened only by a faint, polite smile.

The Headmaster’s voice boomed across the courtyard. “Welcome, families, to Star Academy. Today, we will begin with a tour of our esteemed institution. Please, follow us closely.”

Nate exhaled slowly, his hand brushing against Alexia’s as if to steady the façade. Ryan narrowed his eyes, tugging Kyan close. Whatever happened next, they had to be perfect.

The game was only just beginning.

The grand oak doors of the academy swung open with a hiss of pressurized steam, gears locking into place with a smooth metallic click. The headmaster polished leather boots echoed against the tiled floor, the rhythmic sound almost swallowed by the faint hum of pipes hidden in the walls. Copper tubes ran along the ceiling, carrying bursts of vapor that hissed through small vents with perfect timing, giving the building its distinct steampunk heartbeat.

Beside him walked the assistant headmaster, her gloved hands clutched a clipboard, but it was her hat that caught Alexia’s attention—a miniature mechanical bird perched upon it, its wings occasionally twitching with clockwork precision. She was refined, stern, her dark hair coiled tightly at the nape of her neck.

“The academy,” the headmaster boomed with pride, “is more than a school—it is an institution that prepares the best and brightest for the future. Here, we cultivate leaders.”

As they passed the first corridor, polished brass lanterns illuminated walls decorated with portraits of alumni who had gone on to become governors, inventors, military officers, and more. A mechanical trolley whirred past, stacked with books, guided by magnetic rails embedded in the floor. Kyan’s wide eyes followed it like she was watching magic.

“This place is insane…” she whispered.

“Control yourself,” Ryan muttered back.

Other children began drifting toward Ryan and Kyan, curiosity pulling them together like gravity. Clint was the first, chatting excitedly about the academy’s classes. He was soon joined by a little girl with sleek black hair and almond-shaped eyes—Miha. Her parents had already struck up conversation with Nate and Alexia, her mother practically glowing as she admired Alexia’s sun-touched skin and golden hair.

“You must tell me what oils you use,” Miha’s mother gushed, her accent lilting with sharp consonants. “So radiant, so unusual here.”

Alexia chuckled lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, feigning modesty. She could feel the eyes of the men still on her, Nate stiffening slightly at the approving smirks and winks they tossed him. He played it off with an easy smile, but Alexia knew better—Nate didn’t like being watched.

Another child joined the cluster—a boy with dark skin and a confident stride. Elijah. His thick accent rolled warmly as he smiled at Kyan.

“You have very pretty eyes,” he said with open honesty.

Kyan giggled, cheeks turning pink. “Thank you.”

Ryan studied Elijah for a moment, and—out of habit—his ability slipped through. Thoughts poured in uninvited, like whispers brushing his ears. Father says the academy will shape me into a proper man. I just hope I don’t disappoint him. A flash of a stern face filled Elijah’s mind. His father, Ryan realized, wasn’t just anyone—he was the district’s head of the Secret Service. Ryan’s heart skipped. Perfect, he thought grimly. Another man with power, another family tangled in secrets.

The tour continued. They reached the cafeteria, a massive hall filled with gleaming copper pipes and polished iron tables that folded neatly into the walls when not in use. Above, a chandelier of rotating gears and glowing bulbs ticked softly like a giant clock. The headmaster spread his arms.

“Breakfast and lunch are provided daily, prepared by world-class chefs. We honor every culture—meats, pastas, seafoods, vegetarian, vegan, all are welcome here. No child will go hungry.”

Families murmured their approval, some already discussing the menu. Alexia smiled faintly, though her sharp eyes scanned every corner of the hall like a predator taking measure of its surroundings.

Ryan, distracted, glanced at Nate. He caught his foster father’s jaw tightening, his gaze scanning the crowd with laser focus. Then the thoughts slipped through—unwanted, undeniable.

There he is. Miguel Monroe. The boy of Cisco Monroe. If the twins befriend him, I’ll gain access to their home. I’ll finally know if Cisco is funding the Resistance. And take them down, The Order will finally stop the Resistance for good

Ryan choked on his own saliva. Kyan touched his arm in alarm, but Ryan quickly masked it. His mind spun, his chest tightening. Nate’s thoughts had just confirmed everything he feared.

Nate wasn’t simply their “Father.”

He was a spy. A spy working for The Order.

Ryan’s palms sweated, his mind racing. Who was more dangerous—the assassin Alexia who smiled sweetly at strangers but will sacrifice a child if need be, or Nate, who sat calmly beside them plotting his way into the Resistance through a child?

Ryan forced himself to breathe evenly, but inside, his world tilted on its axis. His secret was dangerous. Their powers were dangerous. But Nate’s secret? Nate’s secret was deadly.

And no one—not even Kyan—knew what he’d just discovered.