Part 24 (1/2)

Other than this, there was naught else in their cells.

Nothing.

”Frey!” my father snapped, and at his voice I pressed closer to Noc. ”When he gets here, my solicitor will be having a word with the queen. Being in this building is outrageous. These clothes,” he plucked at his s.h.i.+rt furiously, having strode to the bars before his cell and stopping in front of them. ”No creature comforts. Barely a pa.s.sable blanket to keep the chill away that veritably whistles through the walls. Not even a book to pa.s.s the time. And I demand that Anneka be moved into my cell with me, or at the very least across from me so we can see each other as we converse.”

”I do believe, uncle, it's escaped you that you're not in a position to make demands,” Frey replied calmly.

Papa's voice was rising. ”Wait until your father hears of this!”

I held my ground even as I sensed my mother approaching the bars.

”It shocks me how little you've paid attention, Nils,” Frey returned. ”Although you're correct. My father will undoubtedly be outraged by your current circ.u.mstances. I just don't give a f.u.c.k what he thinks, and I never did.”

”Franka,” my mother called softly.

I made certain my features were arranged as I wished them, blankly, before I gave her my attention.

”You cannot wish this on your father and I.” She continued to speak in that quiet, timid, beleaguered tone, which obviously I'd never heard.

Even with my first real glance at her, I saw she was broken. Without her husband's name, his House, his self-importance and her magic to stand behind, it had been but days and she was a ghost of the spiteful, conceited, pitiless, evil woman I knew.

I'd endured torture at their hands to mind, body and spirit for thirty-four years and there I was.

There I was.

And in nine days she'd all but wasted away.

She'd never survive a life in prison. Or, more accurately, her life imprisoned would be a life significantly shortened.

”Frey, if you would,” I began, looking to my cousin who in turn directed his attention to me. ”Order they be given another blanket. A pillow. And a flannel sheet to cover their pallets and help to beat back the chill. Perhaps they both should also have a book.”

Frey didn't hide his surprise but he inclined his head and turned to the guard.

”See that it's done.”

”Of course, my lord,” the guard murmured.

”A b.l.o.o.d.y blanket and a book?” my father asked furiously. ”Franka, demand our release at once,” he ordered.

I ignored him and again looked at my mother.

When I caught her eyes, she dropped hers and said, ”Your kindness is appreciated, daughter.”

”Do not mistake it as kindness,” I declared, and startled, her gaze came again to mine. ”I do not request this as a kindness, Mother,” I explained. ”I request this in an effort to keep you healthy. It would not do for you to catch a deathly chill and shorten your penance.”

She blanched, taking a step back from the bars.

”Franka,” my father growled in a warning tone.

I again ignored him and took a step toward my mother's cell.

”You reap what you sow,” I said quietly, not tearing my eyes from her horrified ones. ”For years, you taught me nothing but callousness and cruelty. You taught me strength was in manipulating others' weaknesses for my gain. You taught me arrogance was a point of pride and a weapon to add to my a.r.s.enal. You taught me loyalty was to be punished. Fear was to be unrelenting. Pain was to be expected. I only hope that in the remaining years of my life I've got enough light in the midnight soul you shadowed inside me to burn the seed you've sown to cinders and plant a new one that will take root and grow. But even if that isn't to be the case, as you've taught me my entire life to live my own with heartlessness and selfishness, knowing you live a life of fear and torment will suffice to see me through to my own end.”

Her hand snaked up to her throat, her eyes wide as saucers, dread wafting from her in physical ways I could not only feel, but could smell and it reeked. My father bellowed, ”You'll rue those words when we're released, you ungrateful b.i.t.c.h!”

I s.h.i.+fted, letting go of Noc to approach my father's cell but feeling Noc move with me, close to my back.

I tipped my head back to look up at Papa.

The wrathful, persecuted look on his face and burning from his gaze shared he had not broken. He was quite certain his position and name would change his circ.u.mstances in the near future.

He was misguided.

No.

He was a fool.

”And what, pray, Papa, should I be grateful for that you and Mother have given me?” I asked.

He tipped his head angrily toward my body. ”That fur you're wearing, for one.”

”This fur was purchased when the quarterly Drakkar stipend was forwarded to me, something that's increased now that Frey's brother is head of the House and managing it capably, rather than your brother running it straight into financial ruin.”

”And the Drakkar name was given to you by me,” he spat.

”Alas,” I murmured.

”The impudence,” he bit off.

I stared at him.

Without Mother's magic, outside of retaining his handsomeness, which had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the strength of the Drakkar line, he suddenly seemed like an old, bl.u.s.tering buffoon.

And indeed, without Mother's magic that was all he'd ever been.

”This is the last you'll see of me, Papa. Any loving words you wish to say?” I invited.

”If you don't speak to the queen on our behalf, Franka-” he began to warn.

I lifted my brows and interrupted him. ”You'll what, Papa?” I then lifted a hand and touched the bars that separated us with the tip of my index finger, reminding him of his situation. ”What will you do?”

Faster than his years, which had always been the way, his hand darted up and he caught my finger in an excruciating hold, his own fingers tightening, crus.h.i.+ng mine against the bar even as he pressed his face between them.

”I'll break you, you revolting harlot,” he hissed.

He was able to get that out before I found my finger suddenly released.

I heard the terrible noise of bones breaking, then my father's pained howl sounded against the stone walls, and finally Noc's order of, ”Step back, Franka.”