She’s daring. I’ll give her that.
A choking gasp rattles the audience, a few whispers and giggles pass. I stare down at my poor little soul with a smile tipping my lips.
Her red hair is loose around her shoulders, falling in tight curls all the way down to the toe of my boot.
The prisoner who seems permanently attached to me clears her throat as she holds my gaze.
“Would you mind accompanying me over there?” It’s a casual question. Almost like she just asked me to coffee. She nods toward the throne, and I arch a brow at the ridiculousness of our lives now.
Not a single part of me wants to stand any closer to my father.
I lower my hand to her and she takes it. The warmth of her sweaty palm sears over my skin when I help her stand. It’s the only sign that she’s nervous, a little secret kept between the two of us.
It’s a trivial thing; skin on skin contact. The sensation of another person warming you. But it makes my heart soar more than anything. I miss touches. I miss dancing. I miss those stupid little visits with the queens where we stitched phrases into cloth to keep our hands busy. My throat constricts as this one brief moment reminds me of all that I’ve lost.
The two of us walk forward. I take the steps without hesitation, getting closer and closer to the king as Cameron trails behind me.
“That is enough, Violence.” My father’s words clip out as I stand just a foot from him. I want to be as daring as this little thief, show him that I cannot be broken even if I know deep down that I am. Very much so. His glaring eyes swing to the woman at my side. “What is the point of this little show? Can you not meet a king without an escort?” The scowl my father gives my little prisoner is one that makes my insides knot up.
“No, I cannot, my king.” Cameron’s lips purse together as she holds her head high, refusing to bow to my father’s anger. It’s a stupid thing to do before the king, but I’m loving every moment of it. My lips pucker to hold in the smirk that threatens to break out.
“Are you so foolish as to make a joke?” The echoing roar of my father’s voice sounds around the room, but I remain unflinching.
“It isn’t a joke. Her soul seems tied to me even if she still owns it herself.” I wish this would just end already. It’s all soexhausting. Too many eyes, too many expectations to never meet, and too many questions.
The shifting eyes of the king pass from me to Cameron and then back again.
“How could you do something so utterly stupid, Violence?”
A tightness fills my jaw, but I keep the swirling anger deep within me. Merrick’s hands settle at his hips like a mockery of a game we used to play as children. He’d done a marvelous impersonation of our father, and it always gave me the giggles. I know he wouldn’t dare do it now.
We are not children any longer, and he has too much to lose.
“I sent you to the Wild Hunt knowing how much they’d benefit from your power. Your actions make me look like a fool,” he says on a quieter breath. A shudder shakes through me. When he’s quiet, he’s deadly.
A silence pushes through the room as he seems to think about the mess I’ve made.
“And you,” he swings his attention to the poor soul I dragged into this, “death is the price for stealing from a king.”
I cock a brow at my father.
I just told him this woman’s soul is tied to me.Not going to pause and consider if her death might be tied to my death as well, Father?
A shuffling of feet pulls my attention momentarily away from the king. A woman with sandy blonde hair and sweet eyes smiles down at me as she rushes to King Melic’s side.
A sad feeling weighs my stomach as I look at my mother.
“My love, what if her life is tied to the thief’s? If she dies, will Violence?” She whispers the question in a rush as her hand lightly settles over his.
Ah, the voice of reason. Thank you, Mother.
It’s hard for me not to roll my eyes at the simple question that should have crossed his mind, but I do manage.
In turn, Merrick lowers himself slowly till he can whisper into our father’s ear. He’s keeping his hair longer than he used to, and two black strands fall forward into his green eyes. I took all my mother’s softer, lighter features while Merrick took to father’s harsher, more stern looks with the same tanned skin and shadowed gaze.
A gruff sound emits as my father clears his throat and pulls his attention back to the thief. “Return what I know you stole, and you will be pardoned. And never forget the kindness I’ve shown you today.”
The smile of relief touches my mother’s eyes as she averts her daughter’s near-death sentence. Merrick straightens, looking as apathetic as ever. A small sigh seems to travel through the rest of the room as well. Should I be attributing this mercy to the presence of our guests? Probably. Merrick could have easily used that to help reason with our father. My attention flicks over to his olive eyes and the scar that crosses over his face as evidence of one of the many times he’d stood between me and our father.
