5. Barrett
BARRETT
I braced myself against the edge of the basin, water rolling down my face to drip into the pool. Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sting of the cut above my brow had nearly vanished with the help of Lucia’s salve, but the dull headache from the hangover still lingered, pulsing behind my eyes. I desperately needed to feed.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and it was the first time in Gods knew how long that I’d looked upon myself, upon the eyes I hated so much. His eyes.
A spark ignited within me at the sight of them, of the painful reminder. The flame pressed against its confinement in my body, and I tightened my grip on the basin to keep from smashing my fist into the glass.
I ran my fingers through my wet blond hair, far too long for my liking after my imprisonment.
Daily baths weren’t exactly a privilege where I had been kept, and I might have spent a bit longer than I should have in the baths of the barracks.
Grabbing a freshly sharpened blade, I began cutting away at the unwanted growth.
It wasn’t perfect when I finished, the sides and back shaved close with the top longer and swept back, but for the first time in decades, I almost felt like myself.
I ran my hand over my freshly shaven jaw, finally clear of the faint beard that had grown back from the last time I’d burned the hairs away, when I’d had a chance to expel some magic during my imprisonment.
The gold chain bracelet clinked against the porcelain water basin, and I lifted my hand to see it better.
A message in the old language was engraved in fine handwriting on the thin gold pendant.
The mere sight of it brought forth memories of her.
It had been far too long since I’d last heard her voice.
I missed the sound of it, of her laughter.
“Cali...” I whispered, running my fingers over the delicate chain.
“Sneaking off again?” I called from where I sat on the window seat as she tiptoed down the stairs.
She stiffened and turned toward me hesitantly. A guilty smile crawled across her face, and she fiddled with one of her blonde curls, something she always did when she was up to no good. “Not at all. I was going for a walk through the gardens.”
“At night?” I said, arching a brow as I set my book to the side.
She sidestepped, and the way she chewed her lip was all I needed to know she was full of it. “The jasmine should be blooming. I wanted to see them.”
“Uh huh. It didn’t seem that was where you snuck off to last night.” I rose from the bench, my book forgotten. “That aside, I have something for you. I wanted to give it to you, but I got in late from training and didn’t want to wake you up. Since you’re awake, though...”
Her blonde brows rose as I pulled a box from my pocket. “My birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
“Yeah, and we both know Mother has plans to whisk you away to be presented to the aristocracy. I’m afraid I won’t get to see you.”
Something akin to uncertainty flitted across her face, and I didn’t blame her for it. We weren’t their beloved children, weren’t prized for the reasons we should be. We were tools, objects for our parents’ benefit, our sole purpose being to strengthen their influence and power.
“You’re probably right. It’s all she’s talked about for months,” she said, her voice smaller than it should ever be, not like the child I once watched run through flower fields, singing at the top of her lungs.
“Uncle Atticus and Aunt Jissena have helped with the planning as well. I don’t like how Jissena fawns over me like some pet. ”
Atticus. I had never liked him. He was entirely too involved in Father’s dealings, and I feared he knew the truth of what happened behind closed doors—feared he didn’t care.
“I wanted to gift you this,” I said, extending the box to her again. “Because there’s no telling if we’ll get any alone time tomorrow.”
A soft smile tugged at her lips. “You’ve never been fond of audiences.” She took the box and lifted the lid to reveal a delicate gold chain bracelet .
“Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful,” she whispered and lifted it from the satin bedding to inspect it closer. Etched into a delicate gold plate was a message written in the old language.
Tears welled in her eyes as she read it. “I love it.”
“Here,” I said, taking it from her. She held up her wrist for me, and I clasped the bracelet in place, the chain a touch too loose.
I frowned. “We can get it adjusted.”
“No. I love it as it is.” She lifted her wrist, and her smile widened as she read the message again.
“I love you so much,” she said as she stretched onto her toes to wrap her arms around me and press a kiss to my cheek.
“I love you more.”
“I love you most,” she said with a snicker.
I arched a brow. “What are you really up to?”
She stiffened before glancing nervously to the entrance. “I, um…”
I gave her a knowing smile, and she slumped.
“I met someone.”
My stomach dipped, and I hated that it was my first reaction to something that should be special. “Who?”
“A… Just someone from the market. We bumped into each other, and we started talking, and ? —”
“Cali, do you know what would happen if Father caught you sneaking out?” I said, a cold sense of dread winding in my chest. “And to be seeing someone?”
She put her hands on her hips, lifting her chin to meet my gaze, but she didn’t have Father’s steel eyes as I did.
Hers were softer, an almost greenish gray—like wild sage.
It was a trait she’d inherited from Mother.
Some of the aristocracy frowned upon the color of Mother’s eyes when she and Father were bonded.
The presence of green in the silver was a sign that, somewhere in her bloodline there had been a mixing—whether with human or fae, we didn’t know.
They were the eyes I wished I’d been given.
Sadly, I’d inherited Father’s, cold and hard as steel, and it was one of many traits that left me subjected to Father’s talks of how I would be like him—how I would carry on the family name, become a warrior of The Order, and one day take over his position as Kyrios of House Stoicheion.
I’d have rather died than follow in his footsteps, continuing the farce of perfection he displayed to the outside world.
“He won’t find out if you keep quiet,” she whispered loudly, and I let out a sigh.
“It’s not safe for you to go out this late,” I said, glancing toward the main room where Mother and Father were likely relaxing for the evening. “What if a darkling finds its way into the village, or you bump into the wrong person? Did you stop to think about that?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, a cocky smile curving her lips, and I braced myself for the snide remarks to follow. “Two weeks into recruitment training and already, you know everything about the darklings and their activities?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start that. You know I’m ? — ”
“He’s arranged my bonding...” she admitted, and my heart lurched.
“He what?” He hadn’t mentioned anything like that to me. “When did this happen?”
“He told me a few days ago.”
Something fractured inside me at the way she hugged herself, at the way she averted her eyes.
“Did he tell you who?” When she didn’t answer, I grabbed her arms, forcing her to look at me. “Cali, who is it?”
Her eyes finally met mine, and my stomach plummeted at the sight of the tears welling within them. “Jude.”
“Jude Galanis?” I confirmed, and she reluctantly nodded.
I felt the blood drain from my face. He was the son of the Kyrios of House Leukós and had been bonded once before.
Rumors arose shortly after his bonded suddenly passed away, but they had been quickly silenced.
I’d seen him once or twice while accompanying Father to meet with the other council members.
He was a smug bastard, cocky and entitled, and I’d personally interrupted him getting overly familiar with a female servant who was clearly uninterested in his advances—intervened when he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Would she end up like his first bonded? Or worse?
“Cali, he can’t ? —”
“It’s already been decided,” she said numbly, as if she’d just accepted it without a fight.
“But...but you haven’t even gone through your settling yet. You’re only eighteen.”
“The ceremony is to be held in two weeks.”
I frowned. “Why so soon?”
She shrugged. “Does it matter? Nothing I do or say will change his mind.”
What would he get out of this? Favor with House Leukós? Favor with Jude’s father? The flames within me coiled tighter with each second, but I shoved them back. I couldn’t lose my temper, not here. I’d lost it during the first week of training and had injured someone. I couldn’t risk injuring her.
“I’ll talk to him,” I said.
She paled. “Don’t ? —”
“Talk to me about what?” Father said, and we both stiffened, my heart launching into my throat as I turned to find him standing in the hallway.
By the subtle slur of his words I knew he was already drunk—not like there was ever a night when he wasn’t.
His steel eyes narrowed on us, and Mother came to a stop beside him, running her hand over his back.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Calliope?” Mother asked, offering her a soft smile.
“Why aren’t you?” Father asked, turning to Calliope, and she drew a sharp breath, her mouth opening but failing to produce words.
“I was taking her to see if the jasmines were blooming in the garden,” I said, stepping in front of her and taking her hand.
Father’s steel gaze snapped to me, and I hated how with that single look, I was a helpless child again—an easy outlet for his drunken rage .
“Do you think me a fool, boy?” he spat, his lips peeling back.
Mother curled her hand around his arm, drawing close to him. “My lov ? —“
“Don’t try to distract me, Cassia!” he barked, his flushed face reddening further.
Calliope’s grip on my sleeve tightened and she winced as Father swung his arm from Mother’s hold, knocking her back against the wall.