Chapter 38

Nylren

Istare at the wall until the stones blur and the corners of my vision darken.

Pain explodes in my head when the slap lands, setting the side of my face on fire.

Bright spots replace the haze before my eyes, and another zap of pain follows, like Father somehow managed to pin needles under my skull.

The silence in the dark room is astounding, Father’s groans the only disturbance when he hammers another blow to my face.

Kyren. Yalath. Corym.

Another hit and a coppery taste soaks my mouth.

Haryk. Yesren. Ailas.

I keep my eyes open, but I can barely see. The small firepit to my left does nothing to clear my vision as blood and sweat coat it.

Zavan.

I list their names over and over again like a prayer. Forcing myself to remember each of them while my father takes his rage out on me, just like he did on them, is my own twisted way of honoring them in death. They remind me why I have to stay strong, why I can never let Father see the depth of my despair.

Each strike fuels my resolve until I reach a familiar numbness. A chuckle escapes me when my mind shuts down, distancing itself from the pain in my body. In this out-of-body experience, my mind is sheltered with the remainder of my sanity.

“What’s so funny, boy?” Father snaps, reaching for an instrument other than his own hands. Something made of steel, if I had to guess based on the sound.

My head bobs, weakly resting on my bare chest as I try to suck in a breath. Bits of my skin are missing, carved out by my father’s hand.

No. No. Lift your head.

I muster the strength I have left to tilt my head to the side and spare myself contemplating the horrors wreaked on my body. Reality has a nasty habit of sneaking back in when I’m faced with it.

“How could you let them escape Nyths?” Father’s voice fills the air once more, his tone colder than ever.

I stopped trying to answer and reason with him long ago when I’m on this side of the conversation, strapped to the chair.

The leather belt over my stomach is merely to stop my body from toppling over, not to restrain me. He knows I gave up fighting ages ago. He only went harder when I tried, which turned out to be a very efficient way to sink obedience into a child’s head. Father is nothing if not thorough.

Father’s steps echo around me as he wanders the dark room with blood dripping from his fingers.

The pile of bodies we found by the western gate sentenced me to this hell. A traitor walks our ranks, but I won’t find them until I’m out of this room, and Father is done looking for answers I don’t have.

“What do you know?” His hand returns to my face in seconds, his fingers tightening around my cheeks, crushing my broken jaw. “They must have received help. Who could have betrayed me?”

Drool mixed with blood escapes my lips, eliciting a sneer on his face.

“You’re always there, lurking in my shadows.” A thousand blades sink into my mouth as his fingers dig into my cheeks. “Tell me what your little spies are up to.”

My gaze widens as I try to decipher the look in my father’s eyes, but I remain silent.

Releasing his hold on me, he slaps me again.

“I know everything that goes on in this city. I know you better than you know yourself.” He lowers his face near mine, letting me smell the poison mixed with alcohol he drinks every night. He says it’s to build his tolerance, but it’s a wonder Death hasn’t claimed him yet, with his insides rotting a little more each day.

“From your most secret dreams to what you whisper in the night when you think no one is watching.”

A pit opens in my stomach as he plays on my worst fear.

My body never belonged to me, but my mind is my only possession and Father cannot have it.

Letting out quick, shallow breaths, I focus on regulating my heartbeat, pushing away the pain and meeting his gaze. Time to put on my best show yet.

Kyren. Yalath. Corym.

I repeat the names religiously, keeping the panic at bay as I wait for his next words to crush what’s left of my soul.

Haryk.

Father turns away violently with an exasperated huff.

I keep my breathing as steady as I can, willing my consciousness to retreat to the corner of my mind where it can escape, even if for a few seconds only.

Flames dance on Father’s face as he stares into the hearth, his features frozen in a neutral mask.

The fire crackles, sending embers flying, and his eyes widen.

“Sanev.”

I freeze as he whispers the name.

“Dear, I have tried my best, but I failed you.”

He lowers his head as his hands caress the air, outlining the shape of a face.

“I know.” He nods vigorously, grabbing the shoulders of Mother’s wraith.

He is in another world, absorbed in the contemplation of flames, his mind split between this world and the next. If I had known Azran and Elanor’s escape would allow me to see Father descend into insanity, I might have freed them myself.

The bitterness that was flowering within me gives way to a sliver of hope. As much as I hate that he gets to escape this wretched place in mind and see Mother, this is the confirmation I’ve been waiting for. He is not invincible.

A new realm of questions assaults me. Can he still tell reality from illusion? What sparks these episodes? How can I use this in my favor? I’ve always kept Mother’s name out of my mouth for fear of triggering his wrath, but what if I’ve been wrong this whole time?

A growl tears through his throat when his head snaps towards me, and my blood freezes. Tenderness has left his gaze, letting his rage take over.

The glance we share tells me he’s well aware of what he’s just revealed.

Fury twists his features and I can’t look away, not even when the tip of a hot metal rod digs into my shoulder.

Blood sizzles under the ember-reddened instrument and air flees my lungs.

Time suspends while my brain catches up with reality, everything in the room perfectly still.

My scream shatters the respite when Father twists the metal rod, tearing through muscles and flesh.

“You’re going to pay for this. You’re going to pay for it all.”

My father’s rictus widens, the muscles on his arm tensing from the pressure he’s applying.

Maybe freeing the traitors wouldn’t have been worth it after all.

After working another hour on my destroyed body, Father’s shoulder sag.

“Guards,” he barks.

Soldiers enter seconds later, ready to serve their sovereign.

“Alert Ryfa and get me the Commander of the Emerald Legions.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

The soldier is about to turn back on their heels when Father opens his mouth again.

“And get Amrynn down here.”

Curiosity soars through the pain at the Lady of the Moon Fae’s mention. I’ll seize any opportunity to see into her endgame I can get, and this encounter ought to be most interesting.

I keep my gaze on the bloodied ground until Amrynn’s heels echo down the corridor and she enters the room.

A gasp tears from her throat as she lays her pale eyes on my wrecked body.

“That will be but a fraction of what I do to you if you fail me.”

Father’s voice remains steady as the threat leaves his lips and Amrynn nods in confirmation.

Her unblinking gaze remains fixed on mine, letting me contemplate the pools of treachery shining in her irises. Not even her perfectly cultivated air of shock and elegant dress could mask the deceit lurking in those grey eyes.

This honey-voiced viper has clearly adopted cunning artifice, though her next stroke hides elusively for now.

“Come. There is something we must discuss.”

Father motions towards the door without a backward glance.

Tension melts from my body as their footsteps fade, shadows embracing me once more.