10 #2
“Just a little training, to ensure devout submission to me.” Barron surveyed Theron, his attention gleeful. “Wait until your father sees what you’ll become.”
Theron attempted a glare but his eyes shattered with a sigh, fatigue overwhelming him.
“I knew my family was weak,” Rashi’s lips curled at Theron. “He can’t even hold his head up.”
Theron’s eyes snapped open, landing on Rashi’s rigid frame. He absorbed her features, recognition flaring. “Rashi Staghart,” he croaked. Staghart. His booming voice had been destroyed, and when he spoke, Kora could practically hear his vocal cords disintegrating. “We thought you had died.”
Rashi scoffed in response, and inspected her pristine, diamond ring adorning her left hand. “I sought a better life for myself. And soon, I’ll have everything I ever wanted.”
“At the price of your family,” Theron replied.
“This is my true family. I love my husband, and my eldest is marrying into the new leaders of our world. She’s been rightfully granted the gift of power, which only nobles deserve. My family will thrive and lead for generations.” Rashi turned her nose up at Theron.
Theron spared a glance to Otto and Bree at the end of the table, his mouth thinning. Bree’s eyes widened at the exchange.
“Do they know who you are?” he pushed. “Do they know your secret?”
Rashi’s left hand curled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My wife and I have no secrets,” Otto uttered. “Barron, silence him. He’s causing a distraction.”
Barron hummed, observing intently. “I’m most intrigued about what the prince has to say.”
“I did not come here to see my wretched family!” Rashi scowled, her curled fist wavering. “I refuse to be paraded in front of those who I have actively distanced from.”
“If you are hiding secrets from me, Lady Rashi, I have a right to know. Your daughter’s nuptials may depend on it.” Barron nodded to Theron to continue. Bree squeaked in response, her grasp on Blake tightening.
“What’s the tale you have spun? That you are distantly related to us. A far away lineage, with no hope of being in succession for the throne of Azaria?” Theron’s weak head rolled to the side, as he used the high back of the chair to support himself.
Rashi briefly closed her eyes, and then stood, bracing her hands on the marble lip of the table. She took a steadying breath, and Kora couldn’t help leaning forward, eager to hear more. Indeed, this had become the oddest of dinner parties.
“I’m a direct descendent of the Azarian royal line, and sister of King Staghart the Eighth.
Eli is . . . my nephew, the First Prince of Azaria.
You must know that I absconded, and inherently abdicated my seat within the royal family.
” Rashi sat back down; her pinched face slackened.
Otto reached for her, his large hand curling around hers in comfort.
“My, my,” Barron clapped his hands and barked a laugh. “This is better than I ever imagined.”
“I’m . . . an actual princess?” Bree whispered, her face lighting up. Kora rolled her eyes.
“Wait until father hears,” Theron sagged in the chair. “You know . . . what he’s like.” Every word was torment for Theron. “He’ll drag you back by your scalp.”
Rashi cringed, her fear palpable as her hands shook within Otto’s.
“Don’t let him take me,” she whispered to her husband.
“Rashi, do not worry,” Barron smiled. “You’ve proved your loyalty to me time and time again. I will ensure you have the true family you seek here in the islands. Your lineage may even work in our favour.”
Rashi nodded her thanks as Bree beamed, a giggle escaping her. Agatha simply tutted at the whole exchange, whilst Erick glanced at Kora, shock coursing between them. There were many secrets among them indeed. Theron deflated slightly, as if he’d hoped the news would crush the noble’s dynamic.
Silence followed, as everyone pivoted their attention to Kora and her now cold plate of food. Her stomach still growled, and Barron fished the talisman from his pocket, placing it in front of him on the table.
Her decision was due.
As usual, Barron had paraded her in front of an audience, gleefully basking in the painful attention it granted her.
Using tactics of layers to peel away at her defences.
The Hydraforts would take Erick and Agatha away as slaves, using them to do gods-knew-what, whilst Theron sat festering in front of her, his very life on the line. Even Ivar couldn’t save him from this.
Kora’s heart pounded, her windpipe closing at the damning choice.
Either way she was fucked—royally. Theron wheezed, the slightest of shakes overcoming his body.
Beautiful moonlight cut through the ceiling, the light bouncing off the talisman in an array of colours, reminding Kora of the sea.
She almost lurched for it, a sudden desire overcoming her.
Grinding her jaw, she said the first thing she could think of.
“So, Brisella, how do you feel knowing you flirted with your cousin?” Kora smiled sweetly.
Rashi spluttered on her wine as Bree’s jaw dropped. Blake’s eyes flared, and his lips trembled, curving into the smallest of smiles. Theron chuckled, his laugh bouncing off the stone walls.
“I . . . I did not!” Bree snapped, flustered. “You’re lying!”
“You did a bit,” Blake murmured quietly, and Bree glared at him.
“Brisella!” Rashi snapped.
“Don’t call me that!” Bree seethed across the table. Theron’s chuckle reverberated through Kora, warming her heart, but it was quickly replaced with dread as he began coughing. His lungs hacked, spewing black bile across the white marble.
Barron grimaced, moving the talisman away from the gunk.
A servant made it to the table before Ivar, wiping away the bile.
Ivar tensed beside Kora, retreating slowly back to his post by the fireplace.
Barron tapped the talisman once, and a black tendril curled around Kora’s chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Enough games, pet. It’s time to make a choice.”