Part 9 (1/2)

And she did whatever she had to to make that so.

Thus, worse, she'd make it safe so he could.

The b.u.t.tery at the end of the hall off the kitchens, the voice instructed.

I felt the snake of panic and fear coil up my throat, but I didn't even waste the time to s.n.a.t.c.h my shawl from the end of the bed after I jumped out of it and hurried to the door.

I just asked the room, ”Do you have him?”

I'm near.

Oh G.o.ds. G.o.ds.

Never safe. Even with trunks of jewels and gold I was never safe.

And worse, neither was Kristian.

”I'm going to him directly. Let Kristian be,” I demanded as I put my hand to the doork.n.o.b.

Accept your punishment, endure the length of it, and your brother will be safe, the voice replied.

At what I knew was to come, I felt saliva fill my mouth and swallowed it down as I pulled open the door.

The hall was lit with lantern sconces on the walls, but faintly. Hesitating only a second, I made the decision to seek the servants' stairs, a more direct route and one where I was sure not to run into one of my kind. I had no idea where those stairs were but moved instinctively away from the main stairwell to the back of the hall.

I found them and rushed down the flights. The light even more dim there, I held on to the banister to guide my way, my bare feet making no noise on the risers.

I made the kitchens, s.h.i.+fting through the barely-illuminated, deserted area on darting feet, this being an area I'd been made familiar with during Frey's first interrogation of me after a woman was poisoned at a past Bitter Gales.

I found the door at the end of the hall closed. Even knowing what lay beyond, I hesitated not even a second in opening it.

This room was lit brightly, blinding me the instant I stepped through.

I struggled to become accustomed to the light as I swiftly closed the door behind me.

Too soon, my eyes adjusted and I saw him. Standing tall and strong amongst the casks and shelves of bottles, the Drakkar good looks stamped on his proud features, even through age.

”Papa,” I whispered, fighting the s.h.i.+ver seeing him caused to slither over my skin.

It had been years.

But I was never safe. I knew I was never safe. Not in Lunwyn.

Her magic didn't reach Fleuridia. And thus I counted on the fact it definitely wouldn't reach the realms across the Green Sea.

But in Lunwyn, I knew, knew I was never safe.

”You and your brother have behaved very badly, Franka,” my father declared.

”I-” I started to explain.

”Silence!” he barked, leaning toward me, and as used to it as I was, the verbal strike of his loud word still made my body lurch in surprise and fear.

It was then I saw the lash coiled in his grip.

I didn't take a step back. I never did. Weakness was not tolerated. I'd learned. I'd learned if I showed weakness, Kristian received the punishment and it would be twice as bad.

He could not endure it. We'd discovered that when we were children in a way so heinous, I buried it so deep I couldn't even remember it, just the feelings it caused.

But we'd learned.

Kristian broke. He did it easily.

Soft heart. Weak will.

Thus I had to endure it. Every last strike. If I broke, they'd turn to Kristian and wouldn't stop until the blood flowed in streams down his legs while he hung unconscious, receiving his punishment through oblivion.

”What have you done to our House, Franka?” my father asked, but didn't allow me to answer. He continued on, ”The mighty House of Drakkar could have been brought down to nothing, and would have if this generation didn't see the resurgence of The Frey within The Drakkar.”

How had he heard?

”Please, Papa, if you'd allow me to-” I began.

”There's no explanation for treason,” he bit out.

G.o.ds! How had he heard?

”Papa, if you'll let me share. I a.s.sisted Frey and the others with-”

”You,” he interrupted me, ”are at least a Drakkar. Headstrong. Whip-sharp. I can imagine you have a reason for what you did, though I don't b.l.o.o.d.y give a d.a.m.n what it was. Your brother, however, had no reason. None at all. Except to do as you told him. Always minding you, like a brainless pup. It's revolting,” he spat his last, the expression twisting his face sharing just how revolting he thought his son was. ”I wished to punish him. Your mother, though, she has a soft spot for that boy. So I'm here.”

I was uncertain my mother had anything soft about her. In my estimation, it was less her caring for Kristian and more the enjoyment she got from inflicting pain on me.

”The hook is ready, Franka. Prepare and make your way to it,” he ordered.

I cast a glance to my right and up, seeing the hook was indeed ready as, in times like these, it always was.

But I didn't prepare and move to it.

I looked back to my father.

”I endure, she leaves him alone,” I stated.

That was the arrangement. It had always been the arrangement. And they had never reneged.

But there was a reason I carried a midnight soul, for the evil contained in both my parents set their souls to cinders years ago. It was not a wonder I'd inherited the blackness.

”You committed treason, daughter,” my father reminded me.

”I endure, she leaves him alone,” I repeated.