My eyes land on the man. His familiar brown eyes and thick brows, straight nose, and dark hair the same shade as mine.
It can’t be.
It’s just an optical illusion created by the lights and the diamonds.
But then I’m a foot away from him being forced onto my knees, and there is no mistaking that face as he rises from his diamond throne and takes a step closer, peering down with a stern expression.
He nods his head once, and I’m wrenched to my feet to find myself face-to-face with my father.
* Cue:DVD Menuby Phoebe Bridgers
4
My father.
He’saliveand standing right in front of me.
What is he doing here? Why is he wearing a crown?
“Dad!” Tears spring from my eyes as I fling myself toward him, ready to throw my arms around his neck and never let go. Instead, I’m met with two razor-sharp spears angled directly at my rib cage. I stumble back so as to not impale myself on the guards’ weapons as they take up a menacing position between us.
“Dad, it’sme!” I cry out in disbelief. His gaze is cold and hard. Unflinching—as if I don’t exist. “It’sSerena.”
The unnaturally beautiful woman seated on the throne behind him rolls her eyes, looking bored as she mutters, “Good gods, Derek, one of your bastards?”
I search my dad’s face. It’s set in hard lines—jaw tense, brows creased. His dark beard is longer and thicker than I’ve ever seen. His hair falls past his ears. And on his head sits acrown that looks heavy and cold. Shining silver, spiked with dew drops of diamond and black onyx that devours the light. He has meat on his bones. He looks sturdy and strong. Healthy and whole.
My heart lurches.
It’s Dad.
Power bubbles in the space around him. I can feel his presence like a pressure in the air. It’s palpable. My eyes snag on his ears, where I notice a small arching point where there should be a rounded curve.
“No bastard of mine, wife.” His voice is icy, showing no indication of emotion or even recognition. He barely acknowledges me.
“Ah,” she denotes, dangling a lithe arm over the side of her diamond throne. “Just a common whore peddling for attention then.” Her words lash out like a whip to slap me across the face. Dad says nothing.
Does he really not recognize me?
He turns and starts back toward the throne, his dark fur-lined cloak trailing behind him.
Off to the left, a female silhouette draws my attention. I notice the shimmer of her diamond and opal tiara before I lock eyes with my sister. Sam.
This can’t be real.Where the fuck are we?
“Why do you insist on wasting my time with these inconsequential audiences, Captain?” Dad drones.
One of the armored guards steps forward, removing his black metal helmet. When he speaks, I recognize his as the voice in the forest—the one that stopped the other guard from rendering the killing blow on my furry defender.
But I can’t look at him. I can’t move. I can’t pry my eyes away from my undead father standing before me in furs and a crown.
“I would not dare waste your valuable time, my King, had I not thought it a matter of great importance.”
“Then, by all means, keep me in suspense no further.” Dad drops into his seat and waves an impatient hand, urging the guard to continue. He clears his throat, and Dad follows his gaze to the remaining guards standing off to the side, silent and stone-faced. He dismisses them with a wave, leaving me behind in a room of familiar strangers.
“She appeared in a cloud of shadow smoke at the edge of the Bone Forest. My men and I brought her straight away. Sire, it’s possible the girl may be a witch.”
The woman lazing about in her seat straightens, planting her heels on the floor, gripping the throne’s glittering arms with her razor-sharp nails. She leans forward, suddenly very interested in the conversation.
