Silver Moraine Now your life is out of season

Evidently, allowing Atreus to work out how idiotic his plan was was not the best way to handle him, for he began to pitch a tantrum rather than using his brain.

Aventus' gaze hardened immediately, and he was flooded again with dislike for his own child. Was this his curse, then, to father children whose disrespect knew no bounds, whose wild blood could not be turned to productive pursuits? Atreus' temper had Merrick written all over it, when he was in the throes of his grief and madness. Aventus couldn't stand it.

Very well. Aventus' voice was cold. If you want to act like a baby then you will be treated like a baby, and will be placed under the direct supervision of an adult at all times. You will require a chaperone if you wish to leave the rendezvous. You will not so much as shit without someone watching you.

Or, he said, you can smarten up, come home now, and we can talk about what to do about your mother. Me, you, and your brother. The choice is yours.

He pinned the boy with a long look, then turned to leave. Atreus would follow or he wouldn't. Aventus had no interest in forcing the boy to do anything; it would only result in more insolence, and he was at his rope's end with his son's acting out. You will be home before dark either way, he warned over his shoulder, or else.