Chapter 4
Both my mother and father are seated in the dining room, a servant bustling timidly around them as they set out our meal, when I slink in and take my seat.
It’s been hours since Tamiel’s torment, and yet I can’t shake the nausea nor the heaviness in my limbs.
But I do my best to suppress my discomfort as I slide into my chair.
“Ah, Evangeline.” My father’s voice is smooth, calm, as he watches me with an indifferent look in his eye.
“So nice you are feeling well enough to join us. I’d assumed your treatment today would leave you rather too fatigued to take your meal downstairs and you would retire to your chambers instead. ”
“I assumed you would want me to join, father.” I don’t mean for the words to come out with a bite, but they do nonetheless.
He folds his hands in front of him, leaning his chin on where they join as his elbows rest on the top of the table. “Perhaps a meal is unwarranted tonight. Should I have Tamiel assess you again?”
“No,” I exhale quickly. “Forgive me, my wits are not about me tonight. I fear perhaps it would be better if I retire.” I brace my hands on the table, ready to push myself up from my seat and escape up the stairs.
“Nonsense." He leans back abruptly, waving my claim away. “You are already here. I can forgive a momentary lapse of judgement. Afterall, one could claim it as a side effect of the new medications, yes?” There's a hint of a grin on his lips, but no humor flashes in his eyes.
“Yes.” I swallow, settling back into my chair.
He doesn’t wait for me before reaching for a slice of meat, already cut and set out on a platter for his pleasure.
“Now, I fear I have quite the schedule ahead of me. My attention is needed with the Watchers, something about the borders between the High Quarter and MidLands being argued amidst the citizens of Requiesse.” The meat slides effortlessly from the tongs onto his plate.
He picks up his fork and knife and begins cutting into the meal, unperturbed.
“Your presence is sure to settle things easily,” my mother chimes in. She mimics his movements, taking a piece of thinly sliced meat onto her plate. “You must go quickly before the mortals cause an uproar. Honestly, we give them so much. I don’t understand why it’s never enough."
My father chuckles, but shakes his head as he takes a sip of wine.
“Don’t fuss over it, Celeste. We will make an appearance and sort things out right away.
” She nods, shrinking back the smallest amount in her chair for having been reprimanded for her show of emotion.
“But I’ve decided to give the household staff the week off as we will not be here.
So Tamiel will be keeping a close eye on you, Evangeline. ”
He finally finishes cutting his piece of meat and the metal of the fork grates against his teeth as he takes the bite between his canines.
The action has pain radiating through my own jaw, reminding me of the tortures I experienced earlier that day.
It’s like nails on a chalkboard and my whole body protests.
It takes all of my effort to keep the reaction subdued as I stare him down and wait for him to answer.
Something about his words reminds me that I haven’t seen Dina all day. Surely he doesn’t intend to dismiss her, too. It’s entirely rare for her to have a day off from my presence. But a whole week? It’s unheard of.
“Surely not Dina, too,” I dare, slowly.
My father’s eyes dart to mine. His lips purse the smallest amount, his brows furrowing only enough to make one crease across his tanned forehead.
“It’s just that I haven’t seen her today. I’d begun to wonder if she was ill . . .”
He resumes chewing, picking at his plate with his fork as he averts his eyes. “It was my understanding you were with her last.”
My blood goes cold. Of course, he could just be referring to our day together yesterday. But something in the way he isn’t meeting my eye, the way the corner of his lips twitch with untold knowledge, has me understanding that he knows exactly what we did last night.
“Father, I . . .” My words trail off, unsure how to explain myself.
He sighs, barely perceivable but just enough to catch before turning his attention to me.
He’s the epitome of a collected dictator once more—one that is all too aware of the power he holds over his subjects.
His hair is neatly groomed, his beard trimmed; even the creases of his suit seem to be freshly pressed.
“Enough, Evangeline,” he booms. His hand flicks with anger as he drops his fork against his plate.
The clatter of silver on china makes me flinch, piercing my ears.
“Being within the ungoverned district is dangerous for any being within our borders, but especially for a Watcher. Especially for the daughter of the Alpha. And even more for someone with your”—he pauses, leaning against the table and letting his eyes roam over my body with a grimmace—“malady.”
It feels like hours pass while he holds my gaze, the power of the Alpha flexing to suppress those under his rule.
He releases me finally, shaking his head as he picks up his wine glass and takes a swig.
“There is only so much I can do to protect you, Evangeline. And I fear for the day when you push too far and there’s nothing left for me to do. ”
I swallow hard, reaching a shaky hand out to my fork and push components of my meal around on my plate to give myself something to do.
“But for now,” he continues. “I will do what I can. Which includes removing stumbling blocks from your life.”
I freeze, going stiff. “What does that mean?” I ask tentatively.
“Only that Dina’s services are no longer required in our home.”
Tears well behind my eyes. I can feel the rage heating my cheeks and I know if I’m not careful I’ll explode right here at this dinner table.
In front of him. “She's my friend,” I whisper, a single hot tear spilling past my lashes and rolling down my cheek.
“The one good thing I cling to in my life.” I pause before finishing the thought, knowing such outspokenness will cost me. “How could you take her away from me?”
“Your actions as of late have revealed the need for more . . . focused efforts.” There’s no emotion in his features, no remorse or sympathy. “Ones that do not involve outside forces.”
“What does that mean?” My breath is ragged, my brows furrowed and my hands paused mid air beside me from where I was messing with my food.
“It means,” he starts, pushing against the table to stand and lean towards me, "that you have become too influenced by the outside world. This simply will not do. As you and I well know, you are already too fragile, too impressionable to continue down a path such as this.” He holds his knife in his hand still, lifting it almost absent-mindedly towards me as his voice raises.
He’s not yelling, not shouting or losing his temper.
But there’s a threatening intent behind his words.
The power of the Alpha slipping through.
His eyes flick down to the fork in my hand and plucks it from my grasp with frustrating ease, before nodding to the servant standing behind me.
“So, we are stripping things back to the basics. Scrubbing your routine of any variance and focusing on the details we should have been prioritizing all along.”
The servant steps forward, clearing my nearly untouched plate.
“And what details would those be?” I ask, ignoring the fact that I am apparently being denied dinner now. My voice is shaky as the words come out. Because I already know the answer.
“More time within the Temple,” he offers finally.
He takes his seat once more, the remnants of his chewing overlap with his words.
He pulls a napkin off the table and dabs at the corner of his mouth before lifting his glass of wine again.
“Dedicated time to your studies. Perhaps some service to the gods alongside the other abominations.”
I flinch at the word as he takes a long, deliberate sip from his wine glass.
“And obviously, a more aggressive treatment plan. Not at all unlike what you experienced today.”
My head spins, my stomach sours. “No,” I argue, but it comes out a whisper. I cannot withstand more tests, more experiments. I’m at my wit's end as is, clinging to what threadbare strings remain of my sanity.
I throw a desperate glance my mother’s way, a plea in my eyes for her to do something—say something. But as always, her head is bowed, her concentration elsewhere. As if she’s not even present for the terrifying truth my father just shared.
“You can’t.” My voice breaks on the words. He has to see the torment he’s putting me through, how he’s whittling me away, till not a scrap of my true self will remain. Till I’m nothing more than a hollowed out core, mindless and subservient.
But no matter how much it pains me to accept, I know that’s what he wants.
That his entire world would be simpler if I was someone else entirely.
A good and faithful member of the Watchers.
A respectable daughter to the Alpha. One that doesn’t question the way of things, doesn’t doubt her faith or fight her orders.
And no matter how much he beats me into submission, I know I will never have it in me to be that person.
“Tamiel,” my father calls out. My brow furrows, because I hadn’t known she was even here.
But his command pulls his right hand from the shadows, nonetheless.
I feel a swift pinch in my neck followed by a burning sensation.
“Take my daughter to her room. It appears the new medication is not agreeing with her and I’d rather not have to witness her hysterics. ”
I cannot even process what is happening, the world around me blurring at the edges as I slump into Tamiel wrapped around me. I open my mouth to argue, urge my arms and legs to fight back. But it’s like my whole body has become heavy as stone.
I hear something like a whimper, and realize too slowly that it's my own pathetic voice crying out for mercy.
“Of course,” Tamiel responds, and I hear it through layers of fog, as if the words are traveling underwater to reach me.
I feel my body going horizontal, my view of the dining room spinning on its axis as Tamiel gathers me in her arms and turns away.
I watch my mother and father through the blur of the sedatives now flowing through my veins, the picture–perfect couple enjoying a meal as if it was any other night.
As if they weren’t locking their only daughter away to erase all semblance of her existence from this realm.
And I know. This will always be my reality.
No amount of treatment, atonement, or supplication to my father will ever make him reconsider the hells he’s putting me through.
Tears roll down my face, the image of my parents enjoying their meal bobbing as Tamiel carries me further and further away, until the sight is extinguished altogether.