“You are mybastardson, and Sallara is mybastarddaughter,” Lord Traize said, each emphasis of the wordbastardgouging at Wellion’s heart. “I cannot and will not acknowledge you once I rejoin society. And once I marry Lady Sothington, I will produce an heir with her to take over myestate.”
“And meanwhile, Sallara and I will continue to run yourtrueempire, and add to your estate with our ill-gotten gains. Taking all the risk, and gaining none of thereward.”
Lord Traize scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You will keep fifty percent of all that you plunder. That is more thanfair.”
“Spoken like a true criminal,” Wellion sneered. He sketched a mocking bow before his father could reply. “Good day, LordTraize.”
His father called after him as he turned on his heel, but Wellion ignored him. He stalked down the hall, struggling to control his temper and clear the red haze from his vision. All he had ever wanted was his father’s love and approval, and while his ability to detect lies had quickly disabused him that the former was possible, he had worked tirelessly for the latter. And yet, after all his years of service, he was to be relegated to the shadows, while his father frolicked into thelight.
Wellion had known the day would eventually come when his father rejoined polite society and he would be left to run his criminal empire. He had accepted that, and yet, now that reality stared him in the face, all the built-up resentment bubbled up to the surface, threatening toerupt.
Why was he so off-kilter, after years of successfully mastering his emotions? Was it that do-gooder Riann throwing him so off balance? Or had things simply come to a head after he had suppressed himself for solong?
He threw open the door to his sister’s solar. She sat at her workbench, mixing up someconcoction.
“Wellion!” she scolded as she spilled a black liquid all over her skirt. She jumped to her feet, her creamy skin coloring with rage. “What is the meaning ofthis?”
“Sit down,” he snapped, not feeling an ounce of the guilt he would normally have for interrupting her. “I just returned from a meeting with Lord M andFather.”
Some of Sallara’s anger abated. “What did they say?” she asked, soaking the stain in a clear solution and wiping it off with a rag. The stain came out almost immediately, not that Wellion was surprised. Sallara had always been good at this sort of thing. “Is this about Father’s plan to rejoinsociety?”
“Yes.” They sat together by the fireplace, and Wellion told her what he had learned. By the time he finished, Sallara was furious again, but her anger was no longer directed athim.
“That good-for-nothing cock-wankle,” she fumed, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. “We have done everything for him, devoted our lives to his empire, and he expects us to settle for a measly fifty percent? And all the while he gets to go gallivanting off to the capital and sticking his cock in yet another girl myage?”
“I don’t like it any better than you do,” Wellion said. Like Sallara, he had never approved of his father’s interest in women so much younger than himself, but just as in that situation, there was nothing they could do about this,either.
“We could challenge him,” Sallara said, stopping in front of the fire. The flames backlit her, making her look like a vengeful spirit. “I’m sure I could get some of the men to supportus.”
Wellion shook his head. “It wouldn’t be enough.” Their father was a tyrant who ruled with fear and blood, and none of the other bandits had the balls to rise against him. “They are far more afraid of him than they are of either ofus.”
“True.” Sallara sighed in disgust as she flopped onto the settee. “After all, if a man can kill the mother of his own children, is there truly anyone else who is off limits?” She rose up onto her elbow, her green eyes filled with fire. “Do we not owe it to our mother to avengeher?”
White-hot anger flashed through Wellion, and he clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to speak ofit.”
“Of what?” Sallara said mockingly. “Of the way Father wrapped his hands around her throat and choked the life out of her? Or that they were quarreling over you,because—”
“IsaidI didn’t want to speak of it,” Wellion snarled, and Sallara shut up. He looked down at his hands, which shook with anger. “Killing Father won’t bring her back,” he said hoarsely as he choked back another wave of emotion. “If I thought for a second that it could, I would have already buried a dagger in histhroat.”
“I know.” Sallara’s voice softened. “But really, Wellion, what else can we do, other than follow along with Father’s plan? It is not as if we can simply leave. We have no money of our own, no friends or relations outside this valley.” Their father had killed Uncle Walthor, their mother’s sole relative, after the man had come storming to the castle to demand the release of his sister’sbody.
Wellion sighed. It was true—he had far more enemies than he had allies, having captured quite a few people on his father’s behalf. He had tried to do good when he was able, slipping the occasional purse to a family in need, like those farmers whose home they had burned down the other day. But his bad deeds far outweighed his good ones, and the majority of the people he had helped did not even know that he was the benefactor. And even if they did, Wellion doubted they were grateful, considering how much they suffered at his family’shands.
“It seems we have two choices—servitude or death,” Wellion said, rising from his seat. “And as wretched as our lives are at times, I am not a coward to take the easy wayout.”
“Then our choices have not changed at all,” Sallara said softly, staring into the fire. The flames gilded the curve of her cheek, softening some of the brittleness in her, and Wellion leaned down to press a kiss to herforehead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against herskin.
“No.” She turned her luminous eyes up, the fiery twin to his ice. “Iam.”
