Waving my comment off with a single sway of her hand, shenudged me into the hall. “Come, we must go to your father before his head rolls.”
“If only it were that easy,” I mumbled, starting down the vast stone corridor. The Bavadrin Leader Superior was neither calm nor kind. He was someone who thrived in anger.
Edda hissed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. “You must be strong.” Her onyx eyes peered at me as we made our way to the great room. “Have you eaten today?”
“No,” I mumbled, squaring my shoulders and straightened my spine in preparation to face whatever reason the Leader Superior decided to summon me.
“Good, nothing in your belly to lose then,” she muttered.
I glanced at her, but she kept her eyes focused on the hall before her. I wondered what she meant by that but kept from asking. More often than not, when she was already being cryptic, she answered questions in a confusing fortune-telling manner. I didn’t think I had the patience for such a thing, not when my attention was torn between my present situation and the mysterious Lysian sitting in the dungeon below.
The sounds of our footsteps echoed through the hall as we made our way to where Fraser waited for me. When we entered the great room, eyes turned to us, including those of the Bavadrin Superior. The room was terribly bare, made of gray stone and nothing else. It was cold and unwelcoming. There was a dais at the other end with a few seats; otherwise, there was nothing but standing room. Large windows to the west provided natural light. Despite the warmth of the sun, the windows only made the room feel colder, as if they somehow kept the sun further out of reach. A cluster of people stood in the center of the space, one of whom with skin too pale to belong to a Bavadrin.
I halted at the sight. The moment I found the Lysian’s dark blue gaze, his nostrils flared in recognition. His hands were inchains and strung up on a large wooden frame that had not been there the day before. The Lysian’s heels couldn’t touch the ground. His shirt had been removed, placing his body on display for everyone, skin white enough to show the veins running beneath. Lean muscle covered his bones. He looked surreal, like a marble sculpture that had never been weathered by the elements. A knot twisted in my stomach at that realization.
All the stories described Lysians as scarred. They were told to be an animalistic race, wild even. The tales always highlighted their terrible strength, the acute senses, and the scarred bodies of the permanently violent beasts. The Lysian before me had no healed wounds. None. His skin was too pristine.
“Finally,” the Bavadrin leader spoke, voice echoing through the room. “Ariana, come,” he barked, summoning me like a master calling his dog.
I winced.
Fraser, his given name, sat in his large chair as if it were a throne and looked down over everyone in the room. His hair hung past his shoulders, gray with a few strands of black sprinkled in. One side of his head was braided with jewels and stones, marking him as the Superior. Bloodstone was always his favorite and the most prominent stone in his collection, the green of the forest splattered with blood-red patches. Brown eyes, as hard and cold as the room we were in, viewed me.
Pulling my attention from the Lysian, I did not look at Fraser’s advisors nor the others present as I walked to the Superior, stopping before the seat intended for me. I couldn’t keep my gaze from drifting back to the Lysian. His jaw flexed when I observed him once more.
“Sit.” Fraser gave the command without even looking at me. Instead, he watched the Lysian with a dark hunger, and my stomach twisted. I once believed people were not born evil. The man who sired me proved me wrong.
Again, I looked at the stranger strung up in the center of the room. His cold eyes remained fixed on me, something almost daring stirring within them. My attention drifted over his body once more before snapping back to his stare. Despite the position he was in, power still clung to him. I felt it in the air between us.
The guard beside him stood with a whip in his hand. My stomach twisted yet again, for the guard was Willis. The Bavadrin Superior no doubt hand-picked him to act out the orders. Fraser intended to not just torment the Lysian that day.
There were many ways one could torture someone. That was Fraser’s favorite lesson. It was one I learned a very long time ago—and one he’d never let me forget.
“You can’t do this,” I said to Fraser, turning my attention to him in time to see his sharp glare cut to me. “The Lysian has no scars on his body. He looks pristine, his muscles conditioned, his skin undamaged. I think?—”
For Fraser’s large size, he was quick. Abruptly, he stood, and the back of his hand slammed across my face before I could even finish. Stunned, I lost my balance, only to be caught by his hand on the front of my shirt. He pulled me threateningly close.
“You do not tell me what to do,girl,” he said in a low voice. The smell of garlic and ale wafting off his breath burned my nose. My cheek stung, and the fresh taste of iron filled my mouth. The blow had drawn blood. It was not the first time he raised a hand against me, but it was the first time he had in such a public manner. The entire room, which was already silent, went completely void of sound, so much so that it was deafening.
My hands began shaking at my sides. Not in fear, but with the yearning to set myself free. Icy hatred burned inside me, longing to destroy the man who threatened me. Like the Lysian, my skin was not scarred, but that did not mean thatIwas not scarred.My wounds had always been within, hidden from outsiders. Still, they were deep. Scars that would be with me till my dying day.
I steadied myself from the blow. Clenching my jaw, I reined in the feeling, telling myself that I was not actually in danger, that the man holding me by my shirt was not worth placing myself at risk. To act against him, to kill the Leader Superior in front of everyone in the room, would not serve the people’s best interest, nor mine. No matter how much Fraser deserved to die, it could not be by my hand. To act against the Leader Superior was to turn one’s back on the sacred ways of the Bavadrins.
Often, Fraser was the one most capable of testing my patience and control. This was no different. Just another test for me to pass. He pushed me to lose control, to lash out and release myself completely, but I wouldn’t.
“My Superior.” Shal’s voice rumbled through the room, slow and lazy. The casual tone was a thin veneer, barely masking the desperation to please Fraser or the perpetual anger that seemed to define him.He took a step towards us before letting his gaze slide down my frame.
Desire flickered in his eyes—not a yearning to love, but to possess.
“Sweet Ari spends much of her time at the children’s home,” he said, his words calculated, “and amongst those less fortunate. Her heart is soft, as is her mind. She simply does not grasp the magnitude of the threat before her.”
It was a carefully veiled reminder to my father that I held the affection of the people while subtly belittling me before his advisors.
With a grunt of agreement, Fraser shoved me into the chair beside him before relaxing back into his.“You are correct Shal. Perhaps my daughter is in need of a firmer hand than mine. To remind her of her place.”
Shal chuckled and delight sparkled in his eyes as they drifted to me once more. It wasn’t hard to discern what he was thinking. He wanted to be that firmer hand.
My jaw clenched as Fraser subtly dangled my unwed status before his sycophant. The only reason I hadn’t already been bound to one of his men was that he relished the power of withholding me. My availability served as a promise he could manipulate.
