8. Caspian

Idisobeyed. Therefore, I should be punished.

Oh, how the bastard makes me pay.

A simple game of torture is his favorite.

I sit in a room with nothing in it. No furniture. No window. No him. No light, either.

Should be paradise in theory. I'd kill for a world without him.

But then he plays, oh, how he plays. He twists my thoughts to suit his needs and makes me see what he wants me to be. In my own damn skull, he makes me play pretend. As a benevolent master with me as his slave.

I can't resist—not when the fantasy is his creation. The only thing I can do is watch as this simpering, twisted wretch wears my face and submits to him. Moans for him. Begs for him.

I'd rip off my skin if I could. Gouge out my eyes. I'd tear my throat to pieces if only to give him the satisfaction of watching me choke on a pool of blood at his feet.

But he won't let me. In this dance, he holds all the cards, a cruel puppet master. I can only sit and watch. And watch. And seethe.

His fantasy begins the same way they always do. I thank him for rescuing me from the bonds of mortal life. Oh, how I simper and carry on. What a fucking fool this fake Caspian makes of himself.

Usually, he shows me what he wants from me in these deranged mental theaters. Disgusting shit. Twisted shit. I have to beat it out of my mind later—literally. I ram my face against a wall until my skull splits, and the pain rips me in half. As I heal, the others will whine and whimper. They've grown weak in their immortality, sheltered like the well-fed lambs they are. It's Cassius who enjoys my agony. He enjoys it too damn much.

The only way to forget is through the pain. To numb the part of my brain only he can touch and exploit for his own uses. He never lets the others see these sick fantasies of me. Only he and I can play this game.

And now her. He takes my fantasy of Niamh and corrupts it. It's him that I watch sling her against that wall and rip at her delicate robes. He is the only one in those dark, haunting eyes. He is the one who breaks her. Who makes her scream. He paints that ugly face with tears.

No. No. No.

It should be me. Me!

During his torture, I normally feel hatred, not this. This is rage. Anger. No. She's mine. Mine!

Suddenly, his fantasy breaks. The fake Caspian lunges, eyes blazing, a knife conjured from nowhere. Maybe I created it. Maybe it's a memory…

"Enough."

He's here now, in this room, and I'm back in my own skin. Fists clenched, teeth bared.

Cassius isn't smiling either. "You go too far, boy," he snarls, and his face reveals itself for what it is: a mask of skin stretched taut over a skeleton that should have long since faded to dust. "Your disobedience is a novelty to me."

At least he admits it. To hear him admit it…doesn't fill me with the glee it should. It sounds like a warning.

"But outright defiance? I will not allow it." His voice raises and echoes throughout the house. Our siblings cringe and shudder. He isn't like this: angry and unseemly. All because of some stupid little fae.

A fae who is mine.

"She isn't yours," he corrects, flicking through my thoughts as if they were a swarm of flies. He sees me watching her, well before I ever approached. Then he sees me touch her. Kiss. Crave.

He knows what I really want: to remember. To take her. To feel that body envelope mine in a way I've never craved anyone. Never him.

No! He hisses. Anger makes him ugly and strips away the beautiful veneer. Any other time, I would revel in this. I did it, finally. I pissed him off well and truly.

But I'm not gloating. His rage carries a risk this time. He can batter me. Hurt me. Torture. But I don't want him to?—

"It was a mistake to trust you with such a vital task," he says, and my vision turns red. "I'll ask one of your brothers instead. Then sweep your memories clean."

"No!" My teeth are gritted, muscles chorded, body on all fours like a snarling beast. I paw at the blood-red carpeting. Can't do much more than that. Still, I snarl, "She's mine. You gave her to me!"

"Wrong." He raises his hand. "I did no such thing. Tell me why I should let you keep your little toy? Your recent naughtiness does not warrant a prize."

Bastard. Motherfucker. Piece of shit.

I think every fucking insult I can muster.

He laughs and laughs. This is the Caspian that appeals to him. A monster fixated only on him. But her…

The fae complicates things. Ruins things. He can't let me have her.

Then I won't remember. Won't remember that I will never want him.

"I may change my mind," he says, his voice a slithering snake winding around me. "For a price."

I hate him. He's thrown my own words back in my face. On the receiving end, they aren't so much fun. They are a demand. A test.

How badly do I want her?

You don't,he tells me, his smile wide, voice inescapable. You don't want her. You will surrender. Give in. Be my good, loyal Caspian. Your past is gone. Dead. Accept it.

I do. I will. The past is dead.

"One of your brothers will take over from here," he repeats, but I know a knife is hidden within that offer. None of our brothers have their own will, not anymore. They'll do his bidding, and it will be him. Him touching her. Killing her. Tasting that sweet fae blood.

No.I'll kill him first. I'll kill them all first.

"Now, now, Caspian." He clicks his tongue, and in an instant, I'm flat on the ground, writhing in agony. It's as if he dropped a ton of bricks onto my skull and stripped away my ability to heal. Then he goes further, oh dear, Master Cassius. He turns my brain into a sieve and lets the others in. I'm inundated with them all. Stupid, mundane, insipid creatures that only think of him. Long for him.

Cassius, our lord Cassius…

Through gritted teeth, I counter him the only way I can. "N-No. No! I…want…her."

"Insolent wretch!" The pressure relents, and he begins to pace, his robes swishing out behind him. Then he stops. His smile returns. Damn. I know that look. He's devised a new plan. A more twisted game to play, he and I.

"You can have her," he declares. "For a price. Whatever you derive from that fae, you must also give to me."

Fuck. No. No. No. I'd rather die. But I can't let him know. Can't show that he has me dangling on a string. "I gave her a rose and a lie," I hiss. "Is that what you want, Lord Cassius?"

"No," he says with no inflection. "You gave her a kiss. A slow, savoring kiss." His disgust laces the air. I can only imagine how angry he was after that. To lose control over me. To watch. "That and anything more, you must give to me. Or, you can carry out your original plan. Attack her at the ceremony. Nothing more. Nothing less."

Sick fucker. He thinks he's won. Thinks I'll back down without a fight. I should. Nothing is worth touching him. Enduring him. Nothing. Nothing!

"Until you square our debt, you are forbidden from seeing her," he says. "Not until the day of the ceremony."

There is not much time left until then, of course. He's already taken one night from me. I've spent hours locked in here, at his mercy. What has she gotten up to in that time, the little fae? I picture her face. I see those eyes.

Worth touching Cassius for? No. Never. Never!

"Then we are agreed," he says. "The ceremony is in a fortnight. I can ease your mind before then. Wipe your thoughts clean."

Take her away, those minutes I stole. Minutes when I wasn't crushed under his thumb. Seconds when I did what I wanted. Without him. Seconds when I almost remembered…something.

Are those memories worth a kiss? A dance with the devil? No. No…

"Wait." The word rips from me just as his consciousness descends on mine. I get a glimpse of his true self then, old Cassius. So very badly does he crave to wipe my fae away. Replace her image in my head with his. Maybe then I'll crave him?

Never. Never.

Regardless, I step forward, hands clenched, head bowed. My hackles raise with every step. I hate this. I hate the way this monster's eyes widen in shock and desire as I draw near. When he reaches for me, trailing a finger along my jaw, his hand shakes and I have to choke down my revulsion. He wants this more than he wants her gone. A chance to touch me if I can touch her? A fair trade.

A sick trade.

A bitter bargain I will make, for I need to see her again, sweet little Niamh.

As Cassius traces my mouth with the pad of his thumb, her fate is sealed. For this, I will make her pay. As he crushes his lips to mine, I count the ways I'll make the fae return the favor.

She will suffer as I suffer.

It's just that she's so damn naive...

She might enjoy her punishment.