Chapter Nine Wren
Chapter Nine
Wren
The Fates are immortal. If there are no Fates in the realm, all magic shall perish.
—Aurilian History of Magical Objects, Chapter Ten
“What in all the Fates were you thinking?” Father’s shout was a dagger to my eardrums, the headache throbbing between my eyes protesting each biting syllable.
We sat in our personal carriage, me wearing the scraps I’d been dragged into the main guard station in, and Father clad in his finest tweed suit.
His bowler hat hung low over his eyes, but it didn’t mask the furious storm raging behind them.
Beside him, Callie fidgeted with her hands, not meeting my eyes.
She’d been observing Father at work, so it was no surprise she was sitting in the carriage when the guard opened the door.
Not that she could say or do anything to help me now.
Father would admonish her if she used her gift to settle my nerves—he claimed such influence took away from the punishment—and he’d kill her if she used her power on him.
But Fates, for once I wished for her gift on me, if only to cease the riotous nerves churning in my stomach.
Nerves that had nothing to do with my father.
“I wanted to ask about my gift, and the guards directed me to Dusk. I thought she might…help,” I protested, leaning forward in my seat. I rarely spoke against Father, but he had to know I didn’t just go barging in! I was invited.
Perhaps not invited, per se, but allowed to come inside the palace.
The northern side of Andalay passed by with the curtains sealed, and I jumped each time we hit a rut in the path. To say that I was on edge was an understatement.
Distantly, I heard shouts of people calling Dusk’s name.
It appeared she had yet to be found.
“Foolish child,” Father eventually grumbled, wiping his hands down his trousers. I swore I saw new wrinkles crease the corners of his eyes and his temples, weariness taking a toll on his body.
The insult stung, which had been its desired effect. He never used to call me names, not even when I was a rambunctious child who often destroyed his office by scattering my drawings across his desk. He’d laugh at the mess and scoop me into his arms, his eyes bright as he stared down at me.
All I’d ever craved was his approval. That joy in his eyes that shone whenever I pleased him.
Now his eyes were dull. Unnaturally so. It had to be more than lack of sleep, the tiny red veins sprouting from his once-vibrant green irises. Something bothered him of late, and not just the usual ward dealings. It made his temper shorter than usual.
Not that I didn’t deserve some of his anger now.
“You know better,” he continued, his face turning a dark shade of red. “The Fates summon you, not the other way around!” He bellowed each word, spittle flying from his mouth. I flinched as a droplet hit my cheek.
The man before me wasn’t someone I recognized as my father, but he also wasn’t wrong. I’d gone ahead and taken a chance on myself, and while it landed me in an interrogation room, I remained more upset about what happened after my visit than my decision to go.
Father didn’t need to know that part. Didn’t need to know about Damien breaking into the room, his hot breath brushing my skin as he demanded aid in whatever scheme he had planned.
And he accused me of stealing something from him. Laughable.
I’d get him to do my bidding in the end—the man wouldn’t be able to resist silver.
“I’m sorry,” I eventually whispered when Father’s cheeks lightened a few hues, his rage waning.
I intentionally bowed my head and prayed it appeased him, making him remember I was his daughter and not one of his ward lackeys.
My chest ached more the longer silence reigned, and I added a quiet, “I was desperate.”
I peeked through my lashes as Father took off his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair, messing up some of the neatly combed strands.
It looked like he wanted to pull them out.
“It was beyond reckless. Beyond impulsive. If you weren’t my daughter, they probably would’ve thrown you in a cell, do you understand that?
Not many people leave those cells. I…I can’t have a daughter of mine involved in such scandal, especially now… ”
He trailed off, his eyes on the fluttering curtain. I wanted to ask what he meant by that last part, but I sealed my lips. It wasn’t the time. Still, I tucked that tidbit into the back of my brain.
I glanced at Callie, whose throat visibly bobbed, but she, too, nodded glumly. She held my stare, silently conveying that I keep the peace. Agree with everything he requested.
A scandal in our family would be a nightmare. Father was the top dog, the leader of Ward One. His enemies—and there were likely many of them—would relish using his family to aid his downfall.
I broke contact with Callie, staring at my twisting hands. Sweat glistened on my palms, and I wiped them on my dress. That prison; the coldness of it, the sense that something horrid lingered just around the corner…I couldn’t get my mind off it.
I’d gotten lucky; if Father hadn’t been a Ward leader, those guards wouldn’t have been as pleasant. My privilege had gotten me out of the situation, and my throat constricted imagining all the other souls who weren’t as fortunate. Had they been given a fair trial?
The fact remained, however: I didn’t know. And I should.
The epiphany struck like a slap to the face.
Here I’d been, breaking traditions and rules all for my own greed—and it was greed—while, on the way to the interrogation room, I’d witnessed a few chained prisoners being led below the basement to Fates knew where.
I had been too focused on my act at the time, too scared for myself, but I’d spotted them seconds before the heavy doors shut.
It had been a frail woman with a child, and a man with two swollen black eyes.
Before, I had assumed that the people who went into that building deserved such treatment, thinking they’d committed despicable crimes, but what if they had been in a situation like mine where they were in the wrong place at the wrong time?
“Wren?” Father waved his hand before my face. I must’ve zoned out.
“Yes, sorry.” I rubbed at my eyes, hating that they watered. Me and my damned emotions.
His features turned to stone, any trace of the jovial Father I remembered from years ago a distant memory. I’d do anything to get him back. “You are not to leave the house for the next couple of weeks. No friends, no balls, and certainly no more visits with the Fates. Am I clear?”
“But Father, if she’s not seen by society…” Callie started, only to be waved off. She met my eyes and winced.
“I understand,” I conceded, nodding. I would do whatever I needed to be free of Father’s scrutiny and out of this suffocating carriage. Later, I’d plan what to do with Dusk’s instructions.
Dusk’s note had been clear that I must find the certain someone she placed in my path to aid me. I had just the person in mind, and he’d found me first.
Since I wasn’t in a position to journey to the Void, especially if Father amped up security around our home, I’d have to play the good daughter for now. I would place Dusk’s instructions on hold and try to slip back into obscurity until they found the Fate.
If she was found.
Never in all of our history had something like this occurred.
The carriage ride continued in silence, and I gnawed at the inside of my cheek, pushing aside everything else, and simply studied my shoes. My bed sounded like heaven at the moment, and I desired nothing but to bathe and then hide beneath the covers for an eternity.
Father grumbled when he helped me out of the carriage outside our home, his grip on my arm firm as he led me quickly up the steps.
He didn’t need to tell me to go to my room for me to immediately head that way.
There were no protests. Barely able to keep my chin lifted, I was done with the outside world for the day. For two weeks, apparently.
The second I shut the door behind me, all my mixed emotions flooded out in a torrent. I’d kept unruffled enough during the interview, doing my best to channel Mother and having observed years of her cold nature. It had been harder than I imagined, and I nearly broke dozens of times.
Then he had come, using a gift no inhabitant of the Void possessed, and hid himself, startling me half to death.
I still wished for answers as to why he had that power.
Maybe idle jealousy crept up on me, but my skin burned as I thought that a thief had magic and mine had been unjustly kept from me.
Without thinking, I lifted the back of my hand and placed it against my cheek, at the place where his warm lips had grazed my skin.
It had been a challenge, if anything. He enjoyed the power of invisibility, of seeing me when I was metaphorically in the dark.
I frowned, an unexpected surge of determination flooding my veins as I recalled how he’d whispered in my ear, his voice deep, like a lover’s caress.
How he’d touched my arm like he’d done it a thousand times.
How I’d shivered beneath that touch. Never before had I been so affected by another person, let alone a simple graze of their fingers.
My skin had felt hot to the touch. It still did.
Damien. The thief. A man with a dark soul, and one who’d assist me in locating Dusk’s magic. If he insisted I help him find a stolen object, then he could do the same for me. We’d both win, even if I had to twist his arm to gain his assistance.
I sighed, shaking myself and the foolish notions of him and his shiver-inducing fingers from my head.
It had been a physical reaction, nothing more.
We had business to attend to, and I didn’t plan to have anything to do with the bastard once this ordeal passed.
Heading to my bath, I turned the faucet, waiting for the gas to heat the water.