Chapter 41 #2
Just as Draven said, Ferver comes back to eat dinner with his family every night before he returns to his post at the scouts’ headquarters. Though, as his mother just commented, he usually arrives half an hour from now.
Alistair and I reach the open doorway at the same time.
I give him a nod to indicate that the garden outside is empty and that there were no signs of their neighbors either.
He returns it, confirming that it was the same at the front of the house.
Since this might get a little loud and messy, we had to make sure that no one would hear us and sound the alarm.
Once we’ve confirmed that we’ll have as much privacy as we can get inside a crowded city, we round the corner and step inside the spacious kitchen.
It’s much bigger than I would have expected.
There is a stove and an oven connected to a chimney on the back wall, and lots of counters on both sides that provide ample space to work.
Logs crackle and pop in the fire underneath the metal stove, and two pots are resting on top of it.
The scent of herbs flows through the air as the food in the pots bubbles merrily.
Between the kitchen section and the doorway is a large table for six. Four places have been set with shining plates and cutlery. I sweep a quick glance over everything before fixing my gaze on the three dragon shifters in the room.
Mama Osteria is chopping salad that she is scooping into the bowl next to her while her husband stirs one of the pots. Ferver’s sister is searching for something in one of the drawers, which makes a rattling sound.
My heart jerks and then squeezes painfully as that rattling sound triggers a memory of my mother. I panic as my lungs threaten to cease working again, so I quickly throw open the doors to the rage burning inside me and breathe it in.
“Ferver?” his mother says and starts lifting her head to look up towards the doorway. “Did you—”
She gasps.
The bowl is knocked clean off the counter as she jerks back. It hits the floor with a wooden clattering and rolls to the side, sending salad and beans tumbling out onto the pale stone floor.
Papa Osteria whips around, the ladle in his hand flinging drops of stew through the air, and Ferver’s sister jerks upright from the drawer with a knife in her hand.
“Put the fucking knife down,” Alistair warns, his voice as vicious as it was back when we were living in the Seelie Court. It has been a long time since I heard him sound like that.
“You—” Papa Osteria begins.
Fire roars through the kitchen. The entire family gasps and stumbles back as Alistair sends flames rushing up all around them.
Summoning my own magic, I latch on to the bone white sparks of fear in their three chests and blow them into wildfires. Panicked cries rip from their lungs as they throw their arms above their heads to protect themselves.
“You heard him,” I snarl at them, rage still coursing through my chest like a living breathing thing. “Put the fucking knife down.”
Metal clatters against stone as Ferver’s sister drops the knife in her hand. Even Papa Osteria drops his ladle.
“Kick it towards me,” I order.
With terrified green eyes staring at me as if I’m a demon, Ferver’s sister kicks the knife towards me. It slides across the stone floor, the scraping sound almost drowned out by the flames that still crackle in the air around them.
I just stare her down with merciless eyes. “Kneel.”
With my magic still increasing their fear, they’re too terrified to resist so they just drop to their knees.
Alistair finally lets his fire magic fade out, but the Osteria family still doesn’t dare to move.
I keep my magic connected to them, increasing it until all three of them are shaking with terror, while Alistair stalks up to them and pulls three lengths of rope from his belt pouch.
Whimpers escape Mama Osteria’s lips as Alistair efficiently ties their hands behind their backs.
Once they’re all tied up, he walks back around them so that he is standing in front of them.
I join him and then increase their fear a little more as Alistair summons a crackling ball of flame in his palm.
“Stay on your knees and keep your mouths shut,” he orders. The fire in his palm grows larger. “I would hate to have to burn this house down with you in it.”
Terrified whimpers spill from their lips, and they cower down before us.
A rush of power soars through me. I drink it in greedily. This is how it’s supposed to be. Them, on their knees, before us. Before me. It’s their turn to be afraid. It’s their turn to kneel and bow and grovel. It’s their turn to feel what it’s like to be truly powerless.
Alistair strolls over to the table and pulls out a chair. It scrapes loudly against the floor in the otherwise dead silent room. I join him. Dropping down on a chair, I swing my feet up and cross my ankles as I rest my boots on the edge of the table.
“And now, we wait,” Alistair says to me in a low voice.
I nod. And now, we wait.
Ferver should be coming here in less than thirty minutes.
And there it is again.
Should.
He should be coming.
My heart starts pounding in my chest as that stress thrums inside me again like a violent storm.
Ferver should come home for dinner tonight.
But if he doesn’t, Draven, Galen, and Lyra are going to die.