Lux

Eleanor looks at me.

“We’ve always kept a pair of Newfoundlands here on the Whitley estate. We’ve recently had our old dogs put down. You and your brother will choose a new pair. The neighbor’s bitch whelped.”

I have no idea what whelped means, and I thought bitch was a bad word. But I nod because she wants me to, because she acts like she’s bestowing an honor. She doesn’t say Welcome to Whitley, I’m your grandmother and I love you. Instead she allows us to pick out the new estate dogs.

I don’t say anything because I do want a dog, and I’m afraid if I ask questions she’ll change her mind.

Instead, I focus on my di

“Where is our cousin?” Fi

Dare.

My grandmother looks down her nose at us.

“Adair is eating in his father’s wing, although you should know that children aren’t allowed to ask questions here at Whitley.”

I gulp because this stern atmosphere is scary, and because Whitley must be enormous. It’s so big that we all have separate wings and rooms and suites. It’s like an island floating in the middle of England.

I am on edge because I can see that my grandmother doesn’t like Dare. It’s in her voice, dripping with resentment and distaste. I briefly wonder why, but then put it out of my mind as I make my way back to my giant bedroom. It’s not my business. He’s a step-cousin who I don’t even know. Like my father would say, it’s not my circus, not my monkeys.

In the morning, Sabine wakes me from my sleep with a gentle rap on the door.

“Come with me, child,” she says, her voice like a gnarled piece of driftwood. “We’ve got to go get the pups.”

Excitement leaps in my chest and I charge from the bed, pulling on clothes as I go. A dog. Dogs don’t judge you, they love you no matter what, and they never act like you’re crazy. I can hardly wait to get one of my own.

Fi

“They look small now,” Sabine warns us. “But they’ll be bigger than you someday. They’ll have to be carefully trained to be obedient.”

“What should we name them?” Fi

Sabine glances at us. “Their names will be Castor and Pollux. It is fitting.”

I find it interesting that she has already named them, but it doesn’t really matter. Because I have a soft puppy sleeping on my lap and that’s really all I ever wanted. I just didn’t realize that until now.

It isn’t until we’re back at Whitley and in the kitchen feeding our new pets when I think of our cousin.

“Shouldn’t Dare have gotten a puppy, too?” I ask, pausing with my hand on Castor’s head. Sabine shakes her head and looks away.

“No.”

Her answer is so immediate and firm that it puzzles me.

“But why?”

“Because, my child, he doesn’t matter. Now remember what your grandmother said. Children don’t ask questions here.”

It’s the first time that I truly see Dare’s place in this home, and he plays the role of insignificance. I don’t like it. Dare should have the same position as I have. He’s Eleanor’s grandchild, just like me. So why do they treat him like he’s different, like he’s disposable?

It leaves me with a sense of dread and a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Try as I might, that feeling won’t go away.

Fi

If it’s Dare today, it might be me tomorrow.

Disposable.

Chapter Five

Whitley Estate

Sussex, England

I dream that I can’t breathe, that something something something is strangling me. I struggle and struggle to take a breath, to move, and I simply can’t. I startle awake to find Castor lying across me, with every ounce of his two-hundred pounds crushing me.

“Ugh, Castor, move,” I mumble because his dog breath is rancid and his slobber is dripping down my neck. He pants harder, and doesn’t budge.

I manage to roll out from under him and I fight hard to remember the little ball of fur that he used to be only one year ago.

“You’re enormous,” I tell him lovingly, patting his giant head. We’d only arrived yesterday and Castor and Pollux seemed to remember us, as though we’d never left. “I didn’t even know a dog could get so big.”

He seems as big as a small horse and his paws are bigger than my hands. I know that for a fact. I compared. He’s as heavy as Fi

“Let’s go get some breakfast, boy.” Castor pants at my heels as we wind our way through the halls, and his nails click on the stone. He sounds like a moose walking behind me. Nothing about him is subtle.

I pause at Fi

“Shh, boy,” I tell him. He closes his eyes as though he understands that I want my brother to sleep. We’re jetlagged and down seems like up right now.

When I get to the kitchens, there is no one there. It’s unusual, but it’s far earlier than everyone else gets up on a normal day. Stupid jetlag. I grab a roll from the cabinet, pour some food for Castor, and eat my breakfast.

When I’m finished, I’m still alone in the kitchen.

So Castor and I head outside, stepping along the foggy paths as we explore.

I immediately wish I’d worn a sweater. It’s chilly outside with the morning breeze and the sun only just now coming up. Goosebumps form everywhere on my body and scrape together on my legs as I walk, like prickly miniscule anthills.

The horizon is laced with purples and pinks and reds as the sun begins to tip over the edge. It seems abnormally huge, but it is because Whitley’s grounds are so large, so vast. I’m marveling in the beauty of it when I hear a noise.

A rock tumbling along the path, maybe. A skidding sound, something that interrupts the stillness of morning.

I pause, but Castor bounds ahead without me, his giant body barreling down the path toward the stables, intent on finding the source of the noise.

“Castor!” I call, but he doesn’t listen, and doesn’t even look back.

“Castor!” A male voice barks through the stillness, and Castor skids to a stop at Dare’s feet. “Sit!”

Castor sits obediently and immediately, poised in front of Dare.

I stare at him in awe.

“How did you do that?”

Dare looks up at me and I decide that he must be…. eleven? His hair is a bit shaggy, almost touching his shoulders even. But his eyes… his eyes haven’t changed.