Chapter 27
Xeni
“Where have you been?”
I lift one shoulder in a lazy shrug, the sharp punch of leather assaulting my senses. The nauseating scent of fresh polish and hide is thick enough to coat my throat and turn my stomach.
Father is so fucking predictable.
No son of his will be seen in prisoner rags or marked as less. It doesn’t matter that he’s never claimed me publicly or acknowledged the blood we share.
In some sick, twisted way, I’m still a trophy.
Polished and shiny, even in disgrace.
They’ve meticulously restored my uniform.
The leather has been treated with softeners until it gleams under the harsh light like obsidian, and the hide has been buffed to a flawless shine that reflects the room back at me.
After he took a long look at my scarred face, he replaced my eyepatch to hide the blemishes.
It was polished, too.
The four rows I once earned have been sewn back into place with precise stitches. He’d probably sew them straight to my chest if he thought about it. Make sure they stick.
Even now, Father can’t bear the thought of me appearing as anything less than impeccable. If I’m going to be seen, I must be the perfect ornament for his legacy.
Pretty and shiny and on display.
I purse my lips thoughtfully as I consider the Ramves guard across from me. “Where have I been? Well, for the past two days I’ve been in a cell about two hundred feet from here.”
She leans in, flashing her daggered teeth. Her palm slams onto the table with a resounding crack that echoes in the sterile room, and I’m quite proud when I don’t flinch.
“That isn’t what I meant,” she snarls.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You should be more specific,” I respond with saccharine sweetness.
“Where have you been since Ljómur fell?” she growls, her composure slipping.
“That’s what you want to know?” I ask with a light chuckle. “Well, why didn’t you just say so? Communication is a dying art, after all, and one must learn to finish their thoughts.”
Her eyes narrow into slits of growing irritation.
I lean forward and flash her my brightest, most disarming smile. “I’m not so sure I should tell you.”
“And why not?” Her patience is visibly fraying, just like the others who dragged me into this room before her.
“Well, you might get mad,” I say with an apologetic grimace.
“Try me,” she challenges.
I lean my elbows on the table, conceding with a few small, theatrical nods. “How far do you want it broken down? This could take a long time, but we have plenty, I guess. And honestly? I’m bored.”
She snarls again.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll talk.” I pause, pretending to think for a moment. “For the first hour I was free of that hellhole, I was driving. The second, I was also driving, but might’ve stopped to piss. The third…”
“Prisoner,” she growls, the warning rumbling low in her throat.
“…you guessed it. Still driving. It was rather dull after all that excitement.”
“That’s enough!” The outburst booms through the room, and she looks moments away from wrapping her hands around my throat.
“Okay, you win,” I conceded as I place my hand on my sternum, brows shooting high. “I’ll behave. Scout’s honor.”
The silence stretches thick and uncomfortable as I lean in conspiratorially. “I think I’ve finally figured out the real reason I’m here,” I whisper with a wicked leer. “Is this because of the disgusting things I did to your dad?”
Her chair screeches back as she surges to her feet with a snarl.
I flash her a shit-eating grin, reaching out to boop the end of her nose like she’s an angry kitten.
“I know, I know,” I drawl, dragging the words out slow as molasses. “Listen, I won’t insist on calling you daughter, and you don’t have to call me Daddy… but I might like it if you call me Mommy.”
Her face contorts, hand snapping to her hip where the remote to this damned shock collar sits holstered on her belt.
“Uh-uh,” I whisper with a click of my tongue, the humor fading from my tone as I draw on my power. “You don’t want to do that. Where’s the key?”
“Pocket,” she answers with no inflection.
I nod at her hand hovering over the remote. “Be a dear and unlock my collar.”
Her hands move so steadily it looks unnatural as she pulls out the cylindrical key. I pull my hair aside and tilt my head as she unlocks me, and I pat her cheek as I savor the cool air on my neck.
“You look like you’d appreciate some jewelry,” I purr with intentional malice, “so why don’t you put it on yourself for a spell? Nice and snug.”
Metal clanks as she winds the metal ring around her neck, and she fights closing it for a moment as my power wanes. Years of rarely using it means these muscles are sore as I exercise them more, but it’s becoming easier with practice.
It still exhausts me, though, and I shouldn’t be exerting myself like this. My energy should be saved for when I need it, but really?
She deserves it.
“Such a good girl for Mommy,” I say as the ends snap into place with a click, but then shake my head with a grimace. “No, that really didn’t feel right on the tongue, did it? No matter…”
I lean forward until my lips are against her ear.
“Press the button and don’t let go.”
Electricity crackles in the air as I release her, the static from it lifting strands of my hair.
She shouts as her knees turn to jelly, and she thuds against the concrete. Her limbs writhe and twist as her voice is cut off by the energy forcing its way through her body, and I lean against the table and cross my arms with a smile.
Three guards rush in, and I’m extraordinarily pleased with myself when it takes a solid ten seconds to pry her fingers off the remote. Sweat slicks my forehead and palms, and my hands shake even as I try to hide the trembles, but damn, that was worth it.
Rough hands snatch my wrists and push me face-first against the wall, and I grunt as they’re zip-tied. Rasping breaths approach as the furious Ramves guard shoves the collar back around my neck.
I click my tongue as I twist my head to meet her gaze. “Did you not like my gift? It was so thoughtful, and hand-delivered, no less. Honestly, I’m hurt. All that effort, and not even a thank you.”
She bares her teeth and charges forward, and I steel myself for the inevitable shock.
Before it hits, though, clipped footsteps approach, and I’m released as another presence enters the room.
A very familiar, very oppressive presence.
A long, disappointed sigh pushes into the silence as I turn to face my father with a smirk.
“Really, Xenesis?” he asks in that low, controlled voice that tells me he’s furious.
“Apologies, High Commander,” the Ramves says, her head bowed and her eyes on the floor. “He was being unruly, and—”
“And four of you were needed to subdue him?” he asks with deceptive calm.
My smirk spreads as she nods at the ground.
“Yes, sir.”
Father scoffs and waves a hand at the door. “Leave us.”
They’re like cattle, rushing out as a group at his command.
“Sit,” he says, and he’s irritated enough that his powers flex with the word and coax me toward the chair. I don’t fight it, letting the impulse lead.
“Wipe that smug smile off your face, Xenesis,” he sneers as he paces. “You have no power here. You haven’t won anything.”
“Yeah, maybe not,” I concede, “but you’re the one who taught me a smile is the best armor. So many uses for it. It can disarm others, if it’s done right. Create an enemy or a friend without a word.”
My head tilts as I plaster on a friendly, relaxed grin. “You were the one who ordered me to wear my face when we were in public. How many times did you command my cheeks to hold the proper smile until you were satisfied no one could see past it?”
“You learned, didn’t you?”
“I had no choice,” I seethe, still smiling happily. “I was a child.”
“You were a message,” he responds. “A prop.”
It’s telling that the words no longer stir any emotion in me. My childhood was isolated, but I didn’t know any better. As a teenager, I decided if I couldn’t have affection, any sort of attention would do, and fought to get any scrap of it I could.
In my twenties, it shifted to the need for acceptance. The rush of hearing I’d done a good job spurred me to do the things in my life I regret the most, all for the sake of the man who conceived a child to be wielded as another tool of power.
It wasn’t until I made it to Ljómur and faced the consequences of my actions that it hit me.
So much pain caused by my hands.
Blood, torture, and death, all for the approval of a parent who didn’t understand the meaning of love. He’d put me down in an instant, without a second thought, if I was interfering with his plans.
Tools can be broken, after all, and are meant to be discarded when they’re no longer useful.
“Were you responsible for destroying my research, Xenesis?” he asks, leaning in as his cloudy eyes swirl with intention.
Magic pulls at my insides, softly seducing me to answer his questions.
It makes me feel like I want to, like it’s my choice to share, but Father doesn’t understand I’ve spent a lifetime learning to fight the pull of his power.
I can’t give up my cards when I have so few to play, so I let my face go slack.
A mask to disarm, indeed.
“I played a part in it, yes,” I answer.
His lips pull into a tight line. “Why?”
“Because it was wrong.” His brow lifts ever so slightly, but I recognize how he’s struggling to maintain his control. “You put those people in there like animals, Father. No better than experimental rats in their cages, and for what? To lock your boogeyman on the other side?”
“Watch yourself.” He enunciates the words with a daggered edge.
A smirk lifts onto my lips—an infuriating one that does its job, if the spasm in his jaw muscle is any indication. “Do your little friends realize what a coward you are? Have they figured out you did all of this to hide?”
“Do not speak of things you know nothing about,” he snarls as the veins in his forehead swell.
“Oh, I know plenty. I heard you and Mother talking about the rebel queen—”
“Don’t call her a fucking queen,” he snaps, shoving the table forward until it slams into my gut, forcing a grunt and a rush of air from my mouth. “She was no threat to me. A deserter with illusions of grandeur, and I!”
He stands and looms over me, fury contorting his face into something awful as he jabs a finger into his chest.
“I am a king.”
“You were,” I say as my eye drags down his imposing frame.
Broad shoulders where mine are narrower, a chest that heaves in his barely controlled anger, and hands capable of so much destruction.
“You were a king,” I agree, throwing all my contempt into my voice, “but look at you now. Playing dress-up in your big, important uniform. Trying to hide how desperate you are to make others obey your command, but they don’t listen, do they? No one follows you.”
A palm meets my cheek, snapping my head to the side with a harsh crack, and a satisfied smile spreads across my mouth.
“You’re nothing,” I snarl as I face him again.
“I will have my answers.” He leans in and grips my chin, his fingers digging into my flesh. “You destroyed what I spent the past seventy years building, and you did it for a reason. Tell me where you’ve been.”
Breath shudders out of my nose in a shaky exhale as I fight the compulsion. “A village,” I finally answer.
“Where?”
“In a forest,” I choke out. “You know the one… with trees and… and houses.”
“Where, Xenesis?!”
I lean in like I’m wanting to share a secret, and he edges closer.
“In the seventh layer of the hells,” I taunt. “You’d be nice and cozy there.”
I see it then.
The monster peeks out from inside him, barely contained beneath the thin veneer of his skin. His eyes narrow with a rage so primal it makes the air in the room thicken, pressing against my chest until breathing feels like a luxury I no longer deserve.
The twitch in his jaw, the way his fingers curl at his sides as if itching to wrap around my throat… they reveal the beast he’s spent centuries leashing.
The one that built empires on broken bones and silenced worlds with a whisper.
It’s the same monster that shaped me, that taught me cruelty as a language and power as the only truth worth knowing. And in this moment, with his hate blazing bright as the sun, it stirs in my blood too.
A reminder that no matter how far I’ve run, part of him will always live in me.
But I smile wider, letting him see that I’m not the boy he broke anymore.
I’m the one who broke free.
A laugh forces its way out of my nose, and the levee breaks.
He slaps me again before his palms slam into my shoulders, and I’m weightless as my chair teeters on its equilibrium then tips backward. My back crashes to the ground and knocks the wind from my lungs, and I laugh harder.
“You had so much potential,” he snarls from above me, smoothing his hands along the front of his armor as he glares down at me.
“The best genetics. Wealth and prestige others would kill for, and yet here you are, nothing more than a wasted opportunity for excellence. Such a fucking disappointment. I will break you, Xenesis. I’ll get my answers. ”
Another hysterical laugh leaves me at the unbridled hate that hits me like a punch.
“You’ll try,” I wheeze as the steel toe of his boot rams into my kidney, and I revel in the pain just as much as watching him snap. “You’ll fucking try.”
Fists clenched at his side, his foot moves from my abdomen to nudge at the side of my face, smearing my skin with whatever soils the bottom of his sole.
Filth.
Dirt and dregs and waste.
Beneath him, just like he views me.
How he views Bash.
Father would crush him if he ever found out. Tear him to pieces in front of me and thrive on my pain while he obliterated us both.
It’s better this way, I tell myself as he presses his foot harder against my cheek.
I send a silent thanks to the Fates, even as I lie here beaten and bruised.
That eternal, sacred promise is kept.
The words whispered under sheets in the quiet of night as Bash slid that ring on my finger… that oath to always protect him…
It remains intact.
Father says nothing else as he eases his boot from my face and pulls his leg back.
I meet his eyes and smile again as I brace myself for the impact.