57. Brynn
I wake in a sweaty, confused state. For a moment I have no idea where I am, and then it all comes back. The fire, Conrad, my father – my breath hitches at the memory of what he did, what Xavier did.
I know Conrad won’t be happy. I know it’s going to make him so mad.
My body jerks, but as I try to move, I realise that I can’t. That not only will my legs not move, but my arms aren’t moving either.
What the fuck is going on?
My heart starts to beat faster. I blink rapidly, trying to work out why it’s so damned dark in here.
I don’t understand where I am.
No. No. This can’t be happening.
The door creaks open, light pours in, and I see Ingrid standing there, holding a tray with her eyes narrowed.
She puts it down, then walks over and pulls the curtains open. More light streams in.
She turns around, staring at my body for a second and then she carries the tray over and places it beside me. With a little jump, she lands on the bed. Her plump legs seem to dangle down, making her look like a comic book character. Only, I’m not laughing.
As she scoops up a mouthful of porridge, she mutters about it being hot and then she holds it in front of my lips. I realise then that she’s planning on feeding me. Like I’m an invalid.
I shake my head, refusing to allow it and she huffs.
“You’re being so difficult Brynn, after all I’ve done for you.”
“What have you done?” I hiss back. She said she would help me. This doesn’t help me.
Help.
Someone help.
She rams a mouthful in and I almost choke on it as I try to get it down. It burns my throat, it burns the whole way to my stomach.
“You don’t have a clue,” She states. “You don’t have any understanding of this. You’re an Asher, Brynn. That’s royalty by Brethren standards. You’d never have found your father if I hadn't helped you. You’d still be in that house, with that man…”
“I want to be there,” I reply. “I want to be back with Conrad, with my husband,”
She shoves another mouthful in, using the porridge to silence me.
“He is not your husband. Your father hasn’t agreed to it, no one witnessed the ceremony. You have Founder Blood, that means any marriage has to be sanctified. Besides, Xavier makes a far better candidate.”
“I don’t want him. I don’t like him.” I sob.
“You will learn to like him. Besides, once we’ve sorted everything, you’ll be Chapter Lady. Chapter Lady, Brynn. You really want to turn that down?”
“Magnus is going to be Chapter Lord,” I mumble back because what she says makes no sense.
She lets out a laugh. It’s bitter, twisted, and it sends goosebumps up my skin. “He will not be Chapter Lord, we’re seeing to that. And once Titus is in, once everything has settled, then we’ll set everything straight. Xavier will take charge, and we’ll purge anyone who stands against us.”
“I want Conrad,” I state. I don’t care what the plans are, I don’t care who is in charge. I just want to go home.
She gets to her feet, moving the tray out of the way. “Fine then, be difficult. But the more you fight, the longer we’ll keep you like this…”
She walks out, leaving me there, leaving me tied up. Defenceless.
He comes an hour later.
My stomach drops when I see the light reflecting off his bald, shiny head.
He stares at me, taking me in, like he didn’t get a good enough look last night.
“How’s your cunt feeling?” He asks.
I gulp, unsure how to reply to that.
He walks over to the fireplace and starts packing it with wood, making the tiny embers that were there spark into flames.
“You bled enough that if I hadn't known better, I’d have thought you were a virgin,” He remarks. He doesn’t sound remorseful. He doesn’t sound sorry. His voice is emotionless.
He reaches over, grabbing one of the instruments from beside the hearth and he places it hard against the stone, flattening it with his boot so it’s now at a ninety-degree angle against the handle. It’s a spade. A little one. One used for shovelling ash or coal.
He shoves it into the flames and then straightens up, walking back over to me.
“Will you be good or bad today, Brynn?”
I don’t want to be good. Not the good he wants.
But bad isn’t okay either.
I frown, unsure what to say. Conrad doesn’t like me bad, but this here, this would make him so angry.
Xavier grabs my chin and forces me to look at him.
“God, you’re so messed up you can barely string a sentence together,” He sneers.
Messed up. I am messed up. He messed me up and Conrad won’t be happy about it.
“I want to go home,” I whisper. Maybe if I say it enough times, then they’ll listen to me.
He tuts, slapping my face enough to make me jump. “This is your home now. This is where you live. And I, I am your husband.”
No. That’s a lie.
A big lie.
Liar liar, pants on fire.
“Conrad…” I begin,
“Speak his name again, and I’ll make sure it’s the last word you ever say.” He growls, squeezing my throat hard enough that I can’t get any oxygen in.
My hands claw against the bindings. My eyes seem to bulge, and it hurts so much with all the bruising. Dark spots prickle my sight and tears stream down my cheeks.
And then he lets go, he stands back and he watches as I struggle to get my breath back.
He walks over to the fire, grabs the little spade out of it, and he leans right over me.
I can feel the heat of the thing, I can see how red it is from being in the flames.
His eyes drop to my chest, to where my brand is, and he pushes the flat bit right down onto it.
I scream.
I scream so loud.
It hurts even more than my back breaking, even more than my brains being removed. I can smell the stench of my flesh burning, I can feel it, the way it’s melting. My body locks up, my hands curl into fists but I can’t make it stop. I can’t do anything.
After what feels like hours, he pulls it away. I see a string of my flesh trail with it, and the cool air that replaces the metal makes it sting just as much.
“There,” he says, tossing the instrument into the fire. “That’s better. Now I don’t have to look at his damned crest anymore.”
He burned it. He burned it all off.
I drop my head, staring at where my skin is more burnt and blistered than ever. At least Conrad had the decency to sedate me. Xavier clearly wanted me to feel every second of that pain.
His lips curl as he meets my gaze, and then he’s undoing his belt, clambering onto the bed and hoisting my body up till he gets me at the right angle for him.
“Let’s put this body to some good use,” He says as he thrusts himself into me.