“You haven’t come for us?”
I shook my head. I empathized with Ellowyn’s retelling, but needed to hear the words from my parents themselves. I had no doubt they would try and manipulate the situation to paint Ellowyn as some sort of villain, but there was at leastsomevalidity to her claims.
Besides, I had no control over who entered or exited the dungeons, nor did I care for it.
“I—I need you to tell me what wasreallyhappening,” I said. My father frowned before understanding dawned. He scoffed—or tried to—before backing away from the cage bars.
“I see she’s poisoned your mind against us—your own parents. She’s not even your full sister, do you know that?”
I nodded my head, unable to formulate a response to the sudden vitriol that poured from my father’s mouth. I’d never seen him like this, never heard such utter contempt. He was always the soft one, always there with a smile and a hug. But either this solitary captivity had changed him or simply revealed his true nature.
My gut roiled at the latter being a distinct possibility.
What good did pretenses serve him here? He was going to die no matter what—why contain your true nature while death stared at you from darkened corners?
“Is that Peytor?” a weak yet decidedly feminine voice sounded from the adjacent cage, and my heart plummeted at the sight of my frail mother clutching the bars of the cell as if they were the only things keeping her upright.
For all I knew, they could be.
“Did he kill the bitch? Is he here for us?” Delirious, deluded hope rang in her voice, and I curled my lip on instinct.
“That bitch is my sister. And a better person than either of you are turning out to be,” I replied dryly, trying to keep the conversation civil despite the quick turn of events.
The living skeleton that was somehow my mother grunted something, her hands falling away from the bars as she shuffled through the damp straw to the dark recesses of the back of her cell.
“Is it true?” I asked my father as my mother’s form was finally swallowed by darkness.
“You killed her, you know,” Father said, eyes suddenly full of hate and life.
“Killed whom?”
“Your mother. You killed her just now.”
I blinked, sweat suddenly popping on my brow and down my back. Despite the heinous things she did to Ellowyn. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for her death. Objectively, I knew staying in these dungeons would kill themboth—it was a miracle they’d survived this long—but that was an abstract concept.
“You didn’t kill her, Peytor,” Ellowyn said. The weight of her hand resting on my shoulder halted my spiraling thoughts. “They chose their own path and now must suffer the consequences.”
“You power-hungrybitch,” my father spat venomously as he launched himself at the bars. I flinched backward, Ellowyn’s hand holding me steady, but my sister didn’t so much as blink.
“Do you have any more questions for them, Peytor? Or should we leave?” Her voice was even, devoid of emotion, but I knew our father’s words cut her deeply despite her insistence to the contrary.
I mutely shook my head, aghast that these . . .creatureswere once parents who loved me, educated me, held me.
“Gods, it should have been you,” my father scoffed, pulling my attention back to the cells once more.
“Say that again?” I asked, blood running cold.
Ellowyn squeezed my shoulder once and whispered, “Be careful of their lies.”
I nodded and shrugged from her hold, approaching the cell once more.
“I said it should have been you,” he sneered. “The death atherhands should have been you. Finian was much more malleable, supported each of our plans and ideas. You talked too much, questioned too much. Finian would have fought against her with everything he possessed.”
I retreated from the cells with a shake of my head. “If that’s the worst you can conjure, then I think we’re done here. There is nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already told myself, nothing here that compares to what I suffered in the mines for months, never mind the recovery after.”
“You’ll never find anyone else to love you,” my father spat to my retreating back. “He was the only one who would tolerate yourpreferences,and you letherkill him.” This time, my muscles tensed, old wounds reopening as dark, festering thoughts swam through my mind.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I called over my shoulder. “I’ve found another who loves me as deeply as Finian did. Perhaps three others,” I added, glancing behind me to see my father’s face twisted into an ugly sneer, his nose wrinkled in disgust.
