Half a broken Wing - 4. Chapter 4

~Riley~

The frustration-breakfast with Danny had definitely been too generous, Riley thought as he landed. The thought of having lunch with his family in a few minutes made him feel a little nauseous. But Grandma insisted on the family meal on Sky Day and upsetting Grandma was anything but a good idea.

With a certain wistfulness, he looked along the row of houses. Gray-brown facades with a few plants on some of the windowsills, heavy curtains behind many of the windows to block out the sunlight during the day. When he had been a child, the houses had all had different colored doors and windows. At number 32, the house owned by his grandparents, it had been pastel blue.

But in the last twenty years, the neighborhood had drifted from respectable to dubious, the families impoverished, the colors gone. When he had been a child, his grandparents had lived at the top, on the fifth floor, and they had eaten many meals on the secluded roof terrace.

Now his grandfather lived in a nursing home. His grandma, his ma and Troy were living on the ground floor - for his ma's wheelchair and Troy, who could no longer fly thanks to wing rot. Sure, they still owned the rest of the house, but Riley read between the lines that it was now a plus-minus-zero business.

And then Riley realized that he had once again misjudged, because he was standing in front of the wrong house number. Instead, Wayne landed a little further away - in front of the right door - and his face clearly showed what he thought of this literal descent. Living on the first floor like wingless!

Voices wafted out through the open kitchen window right next to the front door, and so Riley called out, “It's me!” after ringing the bell. The door clicked open without the intercom making so much as a squeak. He quickly crossed the short hallway and then stepped through the half-open apartment door. The smell of food hitting him didn't do his stomach any good at all.

“- how do you even look?” Grandma complained at that moment. “Wash your hands, now!”

“But Grandma,” Wayne tried to protest, ”I washed my hands. I'm a mechanic, it's not coming off.”

“You look like you haven't washed your hands in weeks.”

“But-”

“Right away, Wayne!”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Hey Grandma, I'll be right there, just washin' hands quick!” shouted Riley in greeting, getting a deadly glare from Wayne as he left the kitchen. It was probably a win in itself that they were peacefully washing their hands next to each other in the small bathroom.

When they entered the large kitchen, Riley was surprised to see Eric already sitting at the table - well, lounging rather, obviously deadly bored.

“Hey.” Riley said vaguely in greeting. The look he got from his grandmother hinted at her bad mood, so he hurried over to kiss her on the cheek. “Hey, Grandma.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek in turn. “You taste like that disgusting makeup. Don't you have any pride?” Her own red blood moth spots had gotten paler with age and when she went out, she repainted them. The exact opposite.

From experience, he kept quiet, but he saw both Wayne's eye roll and Eric's grin- who openly displayed his spots.

“Don't stand in the way,” Troy then grumbled at Wayne, taking a large pot off the stove.

Even if Riley wasn't addressed, he stepped aside, towards his mom. After his dad had died and all his shit had culminated in a massive scandal, she'd suffered a stroke that left her semi-paralyzed and in a wheelchair. It was a sad sight to see her strapped to it, her right antenna hanging limply by her face.

“Mom...” He kissed her on the temple - the left one, so she could feel it - and then sat down at her right side.

“Hi Riley.” She gave him a smile that, though crooked, expressed all her love.

Then there was a sacred silence while Grandma and Troy got the plates ready. Not that Troy could cook, but with their mom paralyzed and Grandma getting frail, someone had to pitch in; he was the strong man of the house. Even if the sight of his wings dangling as if dead was anything but a sign of strength.

On the one hand, Riley's fingers itched to help - the two women had drilled him on this after all - on the other hand, he was happy to just sit and do nothing.

When a plate was placed in front of him, the last remnants of his appetite disappeared. Frog meatloaf with spider egg filling. Mashed potatoes and green beans were okay, but the meat... it triggered his most basic instincts too much to feel comfortable about it. Finally, Grandma set a small glass of warmed fresh blood down for him before she sat and he swallowed with difficulty at the rising discomfort.

Grandma cleared her throat, said grace and all but Troy - who wasn't a blood moth, like their dad - raised their glasses. However, Riley merely wet his lips before lowering the glass into his lap like Grandma, as if he were saying another prayer of thanks to the Moon.

Eric, sitting to Riley's right, reached out under the table a hand with his empty glass. As motionlessly as possible, they exchanged glasses and while Riley pretended to empty his, Eric gulped down his second helping with relish. In that respect at least, they were allies.

They all reached for the cutlery. Since Mom couldn't manage well on her own and with two left hands, Riley helped her cut the meat. But no sooner had the mistress of the house aka Grandma taken her first bite than Wayne blurted out:

“Aiden took the first steps on his own.”

“Doesn't it get boring the fourth time?” Eric asked boredly over their mom, who said beaming, “Oh honey that's great!”

“Every child is unique,” Grandma replied exaltedly before Wayne could give a snotty answer. She also had four children, Riley's mom Velma being the oldest.

Wayne took this as an invitation to talk about his children in full detail. (Besides Aiden, who was now starting to walk on his own, Wanda had been approved for preschool, Mandy would be going to singing camp with her choir during the monsoon vacations and Mike had won a competition so that he could take part in a robotics workshop during the break).

While Mom expressed her enthusiasm at every morsel of information, Riley nodded dutifully here and there, Eric made little effort to hide his boredom and Troy's expression became increasingly gloomy. Everything as usual.

“You should bring Misty and the kids more often,” was Grandma's only comment. Also as usual.

“Firstly, it's inconvenient and secondly, there's not enough room here,” Wayne replied - no different from usual either.

Grandma's gaze then wandered to Troy, who shrugged. “Same as always with the kids.” His way of saying that he hadn't seen them himself and maybe hadn't even spoken with them. Troy and his wife had been separated for years - the Moon forbid it was spoken about openly - and Kate's aversion to blood moths kept her and the kids at a great distance. Riley couldn't have said if he'd even needed more than one hand to count the times he'd encountered his sister-in-law.

“You don't have to look at me like that, Grandma, I don't have any,” Eric then said, a little annoyed.

“You're thirty. It's about time.”

“I broke up with my girlfriend,” he returned with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh honey, I'm sorry about that, but I didn't even know you had one,” Mom remarked gently and now it was Riley who rolled his eyes. Luckily she didn't see it, because this exact snippet of conversation had been repeating itself every six to eight weeks for many years.

“Eric's just not a family man,” Troy spoke up a little snidely.

Eric snorted, but before he could answer, Wayne wanted to know: “How's Grandpa?”

“If you were visiting him, you'd know,” Grandma replied pointedly.

Wayne's antennae curled up in shame, but Eric snorted again: “Save yourself the trip, he doesn't recognize anything or anyone anymore.”

“Eric!” Mom said horrified, while Grandma took a deep breath.

Riley pushed the leftovers back and forth on his plate to appear busy and otherwise made himself small.

“It's true! He asked me last week if I was his dad!” It was probably his words rather than his raised voice that took the wind out of the others' wings.

Since Riley really didn't want to interfere, he refrained from saying that Eric was right because the last time Grandpa had reacted to him in the same way.

The manner in which Grandma let out her breath still seemed indignant, but apparently the fact that Eric had visited Grandpa at all was soothing enough.

“I need my wings amputated,” Troy abruptly changed the subject.

Riley was gobsmacked. A sound must have escaped him, because everyone turned to look at him. “I didn't think it was that bad,” he mumbled uncomfortably.

“Eat.” Grandma said and he obediently speared a few green beans.

“It is.” said Troy depressed.

The wing rot had cost their dad his life, but ultimately because he had sold his medication - provided to him free thanks to the police health insurance - for a high price under the table instead of taking it. His medical history had nevertheless dragged on for over twenty years.

And that's why most people were able to live well and for a long time with this autoimmune disease. Even if they couldn't afford the expensive extra medication, reaching the point of needing a wing amputation in less than ten years was unusual.

“It's not like you can still fly.” This time it was Wayne who spoke the bitter truth.

“Wayne!” Mom was indignant.

“It's true.” Eric rolled his eyes. “They're just dead weight at the moment.”

“I have my pride, too.” There wasn't usually much of that, Riley thought, but now Troy sat up straight and glared angrily. “I don't want to lose my wings, useless or not, but I don't want to die either.” Which would happen in no time at all, should the wing rot spread from his wings to the rest of his body.

“How long?” Riley wanted to know.

“Six to nine months.”

“Short notice.” Wayne remarked coolly.

“Enough,” Grandma said.

“How much?” Eric asked.

To this Troy did not answer directly, apart from a frosty glance. “The health insurance pays 30%, maybe 40% if the hardship application goes through.”

Riley grimaced. Such operations and the subsequent hospital stay were expensive. They were already scraping together money from all corners to plug the holes, but this was a vital priority from now on.

There was silence for a moment, then Grandma admonished, “Riley, I want you to eat.”

“I'm not hungry.” The same beans he had speared after her last reprimand were still stuck on his fork.

“You're always hungry,” Eric said mockingly, giving him a punch to the shoulder.

“I'm not Wayne-”

“Hey!”

“-and I had breakfast with Danny.” Just the mention of him was enough and Riley's brothers rolled their eyes collectively.

“How is he?” Mom wanted to know and now Wayne sighed in annoyance.

“Having one of his crises,” Riley replied evasively, partly to avoid giving his brothers any more ammunition and partly because he still felt childish jealousy when his mom acted like that.

“Oh, the poor boy,” she murmured affectionately, even her right antennae twitched.

Riley's antennae twitched too. Danny had lived with them on and off at times and he couldn't shake the feeling that Mom had accepted the other boy as her fourth son without complaint while she continued to try to raise Riley like a girl.

And then the feeling turned into the familiar protective instinct when Grandma huffed a little snidely. “The boy must get on in life, Riley. The Moon is merciful, but does not give to the foolish or the weak. And you shouldn't take Eric as an example, you should find yourself a wife, you're old enough.”

At this point at the latest, there was no use debating any further. As he didn't have a boyfriend he could use as evidence to correct on the wife, he refrained from any other reactions and simply replied: “Yes, ma'am.”

 

 

~Cedric~

The Sun Temple favored by Felicitas consisted of living trees, carefully planted and patiently steered in the right direction as they grew. The wind moved the leaves making the sunlight dance and spreading the scent of the flowers. There were stone benches, polished smooth over the decades, or woven mats; some temples also offered larger communal swings at the sides.

When you sat here, you could forget the chaos. Felicitas always said that and Cedric understood what she meant. The noise of the city was still audible, but it was considerably muffled, and if you concentrated on the chanting or the priests' voices, you hardly noticed it. He accompanied his grandmother often, but not often enough.

He visited the temple not far from his apartment much more frequently. Not for the service, but simply on the way, just for five minutes. The temple there worked a lot with colored glass and mirrors and the resulting play of light still brought him an almost childlike joy.

 

“You didn't listen at all,” Felicitas said when Cedric offered her his arm to leave the temple. There was no reproach in her voice, rather concern.

“My mind is full to the brim,” he replied. “If Grandpa's in a bad shape now...” His wings and antennae twitched uneasily.

She sighed and nodded and fell silent. At the temple exit, a novice priest was handing out frangipani flowers - she tilted her head and got an orange blossom slipped into her hair.

Normally Cedric refused the flowers, but the novice was indeed a very handsome young man and smiled shyly as he tucked a pale pink blossom behind Cedric's ear. Unintentionally, his fingertips brushed Cedric's cheek - he probably didn't even notice, but Cedric's mind was twitching in an utterly unpriestly direction.

“Cedric.”

“Huh?”

“You're really far away today.”

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled contritely, his antennae curling up a little in shame, but she smiled sympathetically.

“It's just as well your brothers aren't here. Come on, let's have some tea.” With that, she spread her wings and flew off.

He hurriedly followed her. His wings were large, made for a constant pace over long distances, while her small wings allowed for short bursts of speed. It was probably only her age and her body, marked by constant bouts of illness, that allowed him to catch up with her before they reached the café in the treetops not far from the temple.

“Complain again about getting old,” he grumbled as they landed on the entrance platform.

She actually giggled girlishly.

A waitress led them to a somewhat secluded table, they ordered lemon tea and the cake of the day and although Felicitas made every effort to make some light conversation, the 'we need to talk' hung heavy between them.

Eventually, Cedric sipped the lemon tea and popped a piece of the pear, carrot and walnut cake into his mouth. How much longer did she want to wait?

Felicitas took a bite first and washed it down with tea. “Your grandfather lied to us all. About his health,” she then said. She looked past Cedric into the distance, the tips of her antennae bobbing gently.

“How do you mean?” he asked, puzzled.

“He's been a lot worse for a very long time compared to what he wanted us to believe.”

Somehow that didn't surprise Cedric very much, but it still stung him. He nodded curtly. Took a sip of tea because his mouth was getting dry.

“His doctor was in yesterday, that's why we sent Nate home, and again this morning,” Felicitas continued, quietly, focused. “He won't live to see the little monsoon. Maybe not even the end of the great monsoon.”

That left Cedric's mouth half open. He had just been thinking that holding on to the cup was a good occupation for a pair of hands, but now the cup was shaking and he put it down. The cake fork he had been holding in another hand landed on the plate with a clunk. “But the monsoon season starts in just about four weeks...”

“I know.” Only now did she turn her gaze back to Cedric and tears shimmered in her eyes. “I know.”

The great monsoon lasted about three months, so Nolan might not even have four months left in total. What strength, what willpower his grandfather possessed that he had deceived them for so long...

Cedric shook his head in disbelief.

Felicitas' hands scurried around, cup, fork, plate, her blouse. “It's... I'm actually angry, can you believe it, because he lied even to me.” A humorless laugh escaped her. Her antennae drooped and she actually looked like the tears were about to roll.

Cedric's antennae trembled, as did his lower lip. His thoughts were whirling. What would become of the company? Would Felicitas be taken care of? How would the boys take it if their big, strong role model disappeared?

He rubbed his face with one pair of hands and reached across the table with another hand. It reassured him when Felicitas took hold. Slowly, he took a few tiny sips of tea, trying to concentrate on the aroma of sweetened lemon with a hint of mint. On the smell of warm living wood around him.

“Cedric?”

He looked up, saw her strained smile. “I feel pretty small and lost right now,” he admitted quietly. But the real shock was yet to come. When Frederick and Jennifer and Joleen had died, he had also had two breakdowns. Three, in fact, if you counted the moment Cyril had left him alone with their distraught little brothers. He'd struggled through it because Felicitas was ill, because Nolan was steering the company through a crisis, because the boys couldn't fend for themselves, because no one liked Jennifer's family and wanted to give the boys to them.

Now the boys were almost grown up. There were many competent people in the company. He himself knew what he was doing. But warming Sun, he was no perpetuum mobile. He needed a break at some point.

Felicitas squeezed his hand. “You're not alone.”

He managed to pull up one corner of his mouth and nod, though his muscles felt like they were made of wood.

“You'll need him.”

In the middle of nodding again, the meaning of her words filtered through to him and he frowned. “Excuse me?”

Slight uncertainty appeared on Felicitas' face. “You... are seeing someone, aren't you? Nate said you were going out with someone.”

There clearly was a misunderstanding going on somewhere. Maybe more than one. But since he didn't want to elaborate on the matter with Rico or the messed up bit with Riley, he shook his head. “Well, actually, you can't say that.”

“... oh.” She looked dismayed. A little too much for his taste.

“Why? I mean, what does that...” He didn't really manage to finish the question, he was caught off guard and confused and... quite a lot of things at once.

For a long moment, Felicitas looked at him with her lips pressed together, then she pulled her phone out of her small purse and tapped on it. “Your grandfather has... I probably shouldn't have seen it, but he asked me to get him some things from the safe. Take a look at it. It's a draft, but...”

Even more confused than before, he reached out as she handed the phone across the table. A photo of a document. He recognized Nolan's handwriting, but when he zoomed in, the image blurred a little.

The top of the page was a partial sentence not really making sense. But the paragraph underneath began with: “My grandson Cedric is to own-” A dizzyingly high sum was scribbled down, along with addresses for two apartments and then a reference to a list.

Perplexed, Cedric looked up, but Felicitas concentrated on dissecting her slice of cake.

“Furthermore, a pro rata 40% of Cartwright Pharmaceuticals is to be transferred to Cedric, provided he meets the following conditions: 1) six weeks (42 days) after my death, he must be in an official marriage-”

He gasped. “He wants me to get married?” he whispered breathlessly, his antennae twitching.

Felicitas made a face. “That's what it looks like, doesn't it?” Without looking at him, she took a sip of tea. “You know family was always important to him.”

“I don't want to sound bitter, but it's mostly stayed with this theoretical knowledge.” Cedric's voice squeaked a little and he cleared his throat. Drank tea when his grandmother didn't answer. “Grandma,” he then began, “I don't have anyone I could just marry. And actually, he knows that.” Should know. If he would properly listen.

“It's just a draft.” Felicitas looked at him with her antennae drooping and something pleading in her eyes. “But at least I wanted to show you.”

They looked at each other until Cedric turned his gaze back to the photo of the document. At least five years of marriage before he received the 40% with full powers, plus scribbles that read 'details of this with Miles'. The part underneath referred to a document that was also with Miles, but it was about Cedric.

At the bottom of the page, a new paragraph began, referring to Cyril - what if Nolan had mixed up the twins? - but the handwriting wasn't quite clean and the blurred image worked against Cedric. It was about Cyril's job at the company and children- and that was the point at which Cedric gave up trying to decipher it.

Felicitas had taken a second photo, but it was completely illegible, so he handed the phone back to her.

The news alone that Nolan wouldn't be alive much longer was hard, but this was like a very personal slap in the face. Between his job and playing stand-in dad, where was he going to find the time and energy for a relationship? Enough to build a marriage foundation? And in such a short time...

He smoothed over his antennae and refolded his wings, looking for something to fix his gaze on to organize his thoughts.

“Cedric, before you write this off as a dreamy project of his, think about it,” Felicitas' voice cut into his whirling thoughts. “You know your grandfather. He wants the company to stay in family hands. Not just for the next few decades, but forever. It needs new generations. Nicholas isn't interested, his children even less so, and we won't talk about Solana at all. You and Cyril-”

“I understand all that, Grandma,” Cedric interrupted her gently, although his emotional world had no room for gentle at the moment. “But I'm not going to have children, whether I get married or not. Even if I liked women, I don't want children. Period and end of story.” He saw the pain on her face as she fought it, and felt extra miserable.

She nodded. “Let's take the draft like it's real,” she said then, not responding to his words. “Then you have time to find a partner now, Cedric, before it's too late. For the future of the company, for you. We both know that Cyril is not...” As so often, she broke off before she could say anything negative.

Cedric sighed and rubbed his face. “Thanks for the warning,” he mumbled tonelessly. For all the love of the warming Sun...

The silence between them continued, becoming awkward. They ate their cake and drank their tea and as they stepped onto the landing platform of the café, Felicitas asked:

“Would you like to come with me? At least show him that you know about his condition...?”

Actually, Cedric didn't think that was a good idea, not really, his thoughts and feelings were too messed up for that, but he nodded and took to the air with her.

 

 

Nolan was lying in bed and had little in common with the man Cedric had left the company with a few days ago. Drooping antennae, sunken cheeks, dull eyes. It was creepy that such a thing was possible.

Cedric forced himself to smile and stepped closer, ignoring the underlying smell of disinfectant and old man, as well as the army of medicine packs on the bedside table. “Hey, Grandpa...”

“Cedric, boy...” Nolan smiled and for a moment he seemed normal, only in old. “Come, sit down.”

Obediently, Cedric sat on the edge of the bed and took a hand in two of his. “I told you to take better care of yourself, Grandpa.” He was almost proud that he could manage a stern tone. “We still need you.”

“Nah. The world's done with me, and I guess the world's right. Let me rise with the solar winds.” Nolan returned with a wink. The tips of his antennae, shaped like tulips, had lost all color and turned translucent.

For a moment, Cedric managed to sit proud and upright, as if he was ready for anything, but then his shoulders slumped and his antennae lowered as well, curling up a little at the same time. “What about the promise to Josh when he finishes school next year? Who will run the company? The company needs you, Grandpa.”

“The company has you.” Nolan patted his hand, his smile full of confidence.

“I need you.” Cedric hadn't really intended to say it, it just slipped out. And on top of that, it sounded pathetic. He shouldn't whine like that, really. He had always known that Nolan would have to go at some point; life was finite and often far too short, his family knew that.

“Cedric...” Four hands gripped four hands. “Cedric, boy, you are much stronger than you think. I know you look up to me, and it honors me, but you're going to have to fly alone soon.” Nolan paused and smiled warmly. “Well, not alone. Get married, start a family. You wouldn't believe how much strength it can give you to know there's a warm cozy home full of love waiting.”

Cedric's answering smile became very shaky for several reasons.

Then Nolan sighed and turned his head to the side. “I'm not going to die tomorrow, even if it looks like it right now. I just need a few days to recover. And I know you didn't introduce us to anyone, but... I was kind of hoping to dance at your wedding too.”

A guilty conscience washed over Cedric. He and Cyril were the eldest grandchildren, but their six cousins were all married and with offspring. “Maybe you can,” he said cautiously. Although, admittedly, Nolan didn't look like he could even get from bed to the bathroom without help.

Though Nolan raised his eyebrows, there was hope on his face as he looked at Cedric again. “Do you have any news?”

That was not what Cedric had intended by his words. But with every second he remained silent, neither affirming nor denying, a bigger smile crept onto Nolan's features and his hands squeezed tighter.

“I'm engaged,” Cedric finally squeaked, wondering if he was actually daft and if Nolan didn't realize how tortured he sounded.

“Oh, Cedric, that's wonderful,” Felicitas crooned from the background. Maybe it was just imagination, but Cedric thought he heard shock in her voice.

“Congratulations, my boy.” Nolan beamed and looked almost normal for a moment. Then he whispered conspiratorially, “It was supposed to be a surprise, wasn't it?”

Cedric nodded, caught off guard by himself. Warming Sun...

“It is a surprise,” Nolan confirmed happily, squeezing Cedric's hands again. “We can-” he interrupted himself as something beeped.

“Time for your medication and a nap, darling,” Felicitas said a little too eagerly.

Cedric realized she was trying to save him, and he backed away, waiting in the background until Nolan had swallowed two pills and then quickly fell asleep. Once sleeping, Nolan no longer looked quite so fragile and, almost reassured, Cedric followed Felicitas out.

In the hallway, Felicitas drew an audible breath, but she hissed in shock at the same moment that Cedric flinched because something was moving at the end of the corridor.

Cyril. He was leaning in the arched doorway to the kitchen, looking innocently surprised, suckling on a straw stuck in an XXL smoothie.

With envy, Cedric recognized the logo printed on it. He loved those things.

“Grandpa's asleep,” Felicitas said, almost a little irritated.

“I've got time.” Cyril mumbled around the straw, shrugging half-heartedly.

Cedric stroked his antennae, which were slowly uncurling after the shock, and nodded to Felicitas. “You were saying...?” They started moving towards the kitchen.

She made the same gesture and sighed. “Do you really think it was wise to say that?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Cedric asked back, raising his hands in a helpless gesture. “Making him unhappy certainly isn't helping his health.”

“Daddy pleaser...” Cyril sang quietly into his smoothie, a mocking smile on his lips.

Cedric knew better than to respond to the remark in any way, therefore he ignored his brother, adding to Felicitas: “Besides- what we discussed earlier...”

She sighed again, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know getting married during the monsoon is bad luck.”

“Oh-ough!” Cyril almost choked and grinned broadly at Cedric. “Well, don't tell me that little sl-” he interrupted himself at Felicitas' warning look, “sweet thing has realized what you're worth.”

Cedric decided once more to ignore him, even though he didn't like the side-swipe at Rico at all. “Wet bride, happy bride.”

“Bride?” Cyril's gaze slid scrutinizingly over Cedric.

That critical, unhappy expression reserved for Cyril appeared on Felicitas' face, but she kept quiet anyway.

“Grandma, are you making tea?” Cyril then added and Cedric, who had the feeling that his day couldn't get any worse in any case, took the smoothie from him.

“Then you don't need this anymore.” He gave his twin a sweet smile and sipped the smoothie - not his favorite, but delicious.

“Melissa tea,” Felicitas mentioned from the background while filling the kettle.

“You really always need something to suck on, don't you?” Cyril's smile was dirty and his words deliberately low. “Your husband will be a happy man once Grandpa's gone.”

“Maybe I'll marry a woman,” Cedric whispered back venomously.

“Uh-oh, I'll believe that when I see it. I mean, which cock are you going to suck then, huh? Mine? I'm open to anything.” If it was possible, Cyril's grin got even dirtier. He leaned in close to Cedric and Cedric had to look up. They were identical, but Cyril's early start of gym sessions had caused him to grow a little taller and visibly wider than Cedric. It was intimidating, even if Cedric didn't like to admit it.

“You're disgusting,” he hissed.

At that moment, Felicitas turned to them and Cyril kissed Cedric on the cheek.

“Congratulations on your engagement. I wish you all the best.”