Chapter 5: The bastard of Duskveil
Charis
I managed to pull myself together, and though it was unnecessary at this point since I was standing on the stage, I still raised my hand.
"I’m...Eamon Riggs," I murmured.
The hall rippled with gasps. I could feel all the eyes in the hall on me, but Slater’s gaze burned the hottest, searing into my chest like a brand. Has he finally recognised me? Was that fury in his eyes, or merely suspicion?
He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just stared at me until I could no longer stare back. I forced my eyes down and looked away.
The admission specialist came to where I was perched on the edge of the stage, seized my hand, and dragged me to the middle.
"Why didn’t you come out sooner?" he snapped. "Are you deaf?"
"I...I’m sorry," I mumbled, unsure if the words reached him and hoping my voice sounded appropriately masculine. "I didn’t... I wasn’t sure if..."
The specialist cut me off with an impatient wave. "Which is your name?" he demanded, consulting the piece of paper in his hand. "Eamon Riggs or Eamon Reeves? You have two surnames scattered all over your admission form."
"What?"
The specialist continued without giving me a chance to explain.