116. Violette
VIOLETTE
“My darling daughter, Raia.” My stomach churns at the sound of his sonorous voice.
I feel like I’m nine years old again. Crawling out of the impoverished hovel I grew up in to chase the father who never wanted me.
His expression is wooden. That dark, lightning streaked gaze–even from behind the sliver of mask–is as sharp and penetrative as I remember.
His grin just as shark-like. And he hasn’t aged a day.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he were only a few years my senior.
The only thing different about him is that he is shirtless, adorned in some ornate gold and bejewelled chestpiece that matches the twin cuffs on his wrists.
His long black hair is tied back. More gold glints along the shell of one ear.
Weaver of lies.
Murderer.
Master manipulator.
These are the words I yearn to spit at him.
Whatever words might form a sensible response clog at the back of my throat as panic throttles my heart. As if he can sense it, and it pleases him, his grin widens.
“I heard you’d be attending this year,” his eyes flick a cursory glance to my males, “Along with your many concubines. I can’t tell you how pleased I was to hear it.”
Who in Akash’s name would tell my father we were coming?
Who else knew?
Surely, Somnus wouldn’t betray us?
I force a smile. “I’m only mildly offended that I was never personally invited.”
White fangs glinting in the amber glow, my father’s head tips back with laughter as if I’ve said something incredibly witty. It fills me with impossibly more unease. When his laughter wanes, his gaze returns to mine.
“Oh, I would have. If only I’d succeeded in finding you.”
His gaze seems to sharpen further.
My heart nearly arrests right then and there.
How I manage to keep a grin on my face, is a feat of epic proportions.
If it weren’t for the hum of rushing water and the distant music, I’m certain my gulp would be audible.
“Who are your guests?”
Thanks to my flueratheurgy skills, I’d managed to concoct a potion that would disguise their magic. And thanks to the masks, no glamour to conceal their identities was needed.
Still, I can’t help but search his expression for any hint of suspicion. But as his eyes cast over them, theirs no hint of recognition.
“This is Lazarus, his twin brother, Khepera, and Apophis.”
With the exception of Lazarus, the names feel foreign on my tongue, but there was no way in sacred fuck we’d risk giving their real names to him so we’d mutually agreed upon these pseudonyms.
My father’s gaze bounces between Lazarus and Azrael as he arches a brow.
“Twins, you say?”
I’m certain my smile looks more like a baring of teeth. “Yes.”
“How auspicious. Perhaps I’ll borrow them from you one day.”
Horror, disgust, and fury blisters my insides and the words slip free before I can stop them.
“Perhaps I’ll swim in your fucking blood.”
Sacred fuck.
At least, I managed to stifle the words you sick fuck.
My father’s grin falters briefly as his gaze snaps to mine. The guards beside him go rigid. Hands reach for hilts. Only halting when his head tips back with another raucous laugh.
He closes the distance between us. I feel my males tense beside me, but I step forward to try and break their thread of tension, just as my father reaches out to slide his hand over my shoulder to lead me towards the shimmering aquatic barrier barring us from what I assume is the entrance to his palace.
Humor laces every word. Dare I say sincerity.
“Has my daughter grown blood thirsty? You make me proud.”
The edges of the father-shaped hole in my chest throb anew.
I shouldn’t care. He’s obviously joking.
But they’re words I’ve longed to hear my entire life.
Words that my heart refuses to ignore.
Thankfully, my mind knows better. And I’m certain those easily spoken words in jest were nothing but deliberate. He’s trying to play me, and the realization is all I need to rekindle the flames of my hatred.
“Not particularly. I just don’t share my toys.”
Toys.
The word is sickening,
What’s even more nauseating is that my admission causes my father’s eyes to gleam with pride as he snaps his fingers.
A lithe fae female dressed in two scraps of cloth steps through the barrier holding a velvet pillow that boasts three palladium collars and leashes. She’s also wearing a palladium collar.
My gaze meets hers as empathy gnaws at my chest.
She gives nothing away.
My father gives me an expectant look. “If you’d be so kind.”
The moment my fingers grasp the first collar, my skin crawls.
With an apology in my eyes, I turn towards Levi first.
Through the holes of his dark mask, his green eyes brighten.
I don’t dare show him an ounce of affection–as we’d previously discussed–lest my father concoct some way to manipulate me through them before we can kill him.
As if it has a will of its own, the palladium collar snicks shut the moment it touches Levi’s throat.
I repeat the task with Azrael and Lazrarus.
Admittedly, when all three leashes are held in my hands and I meet the gazes of my males, I catch myself adoring the sight of them like this.
Collared and leashed before me.
Entirely at my mercy.
I enjoy it too much.
The gleam of appreciation in my father’s eyes is the mirror to my own.
The realization ruins it for me.
My mother’s words echo in my mind.
You have more in common with him than you think.
Repulsion gnaws at my gut, and I force myself to face my father, returning his expectant look.
He grins, satisfied.
“Welcome to Sinsól.”