In my periphery John narrowed his eyes.
“I’ve just had enough violence for a lifetime.” My voice quivered. “It’s too much. I’m out.”
Scorpius scoffed. Orion’s eyes flashed with concern, and Malum said something under his breath.
Focusing on Lothaire, I crossed my arms protectively and stood small.
I took up less space.
“What?” Lothaire’s scar pulled as he furrowed his brow.
“I don’t have to compete, right?” I asked. “Now that everyone knows I’m a woman, it wouldn’t be safe for me. Especially after all this effort you’ve gone through to protect me and keep me safe.”
Lothaire narrowed his eye.
I breathed out heavily and said, “I can’t fight after everything that happened with Horace.”
I shivered as I thought about what I’d done.
Mere days ago.
In this very room.
It was the second time in my life that I’d killed someone close to me.
Underneath the room’s dusty scents of parchment and cotton, there was a copper tang.
“Arabella,” Lothaire whispered as he took a step toward me.
I picked at my bottom lip and sank into the feelings of worthlessness. Memories of Mother’s lessons scoured my psyche.
Her vitriol.
Arabella was a fae who’d never developed any aptitude for powers like she should have. Sure, if I concentrated hard enough, I could create measly ice claws and ice daggers, but they were nothing in the grand scheme of abilities.
The most powerful ice fae could create avalanches of snow.
I was weak.
I always had been. And now I was also trapped. A rat in a cage.
The walls of Elite Academy were drenched in misery.
You could taste it on the sulfur wind that battered the island. You could feel it in the heat of the lightning that struck the walls.
“Please,” I begged Lothaire as I scratched at my back.
Lothaire scowled and pulled at his thick braid, and curls escaped, then he looked down at me sadly and said, “You’re my daughter.”
Eyes wide, I nodded.
Opal fangs flashed as Lothaire opened his mouth and said, “I’m impressed with your cunning and acting skills, but believe it or not, I wasn’t born a century ago.”
I rose to my full height.
Pulled my upper lip back in a sneer and glared.
Lothaire chuckled. “Since you are my daughter, I’m aware that you’re completely full of shit.” He shook his head. “Admirable, really, to try to use my feelings against me. I’m impressed that you’re smart enough to try it, but that doesn’t mean I’m falling for it.”
I spread my legs wide and took up as much space as possible.
I let him see the hatred on my face and said, “So you’d make your precious daughter fight in a violent competition? That’s messed up.”
Lothaire shrugged. “Honestly, yes. I’ve seen what you can do. Why wouldn’t you compete?”
Where was the misogyny when you actually needed it? “Because I’m a woman,” I said through gritted teeth.
Lothaire arched his eyebrow and smirked like the situation was humorous. “And I’m a vampyre. I don’t see your point.”
It wasn’t funny.
I walked forward and jammed my finger into Lothaire’s chest. “You branded me a fucking slave because you thought I was weak and pathetic. Or did you already forget? Or do you just get to decide my character when it fits into your little agenda?”
Lothaire rested his hand over mine gently, like we were having a tender family moment.
I yanked out of his grip.
Lothaire frowned. “You’re my daughter. And you’re more powerful than you even know. But that doesn’t mean you’re safe from the millions of fae who want to rip out your heart and take your throne.”
“Oh, please, save me the theatrics.” I gritted my teeth. “My life is fucking hell because of your horrible choice in women.”
“Language!” Lothaire yelled.
I screamed, “Fuck you!”
His eye flashed with danger, and he yelled louder, “Language! No child of mine will speak like a common foot soldier.”
“I’m not your child.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No. I’m not. You can’t force me to accept you as my father.”
Sparks crackled in the air around Lothaire as he said, “You don’t need to accept anything. I’m your father. That’s a fact.”
I smiled widely. “False.”
“I’m your father,” Lothaire whispered and held his hand out, like he was offering something to me.
He waited for me to take it.
I didn’t move.
An empty feeling expanded in my chest.
It spread.
“Force me to compete and we will never have a relationship. This is your last chance,” I whispered.
The black hole swirled above our heads.
Light filtered through stained glass and cast a network of geometric shapes across fabrics. Curtains billowed in the cracked windows. Fire leaped in the hearth.
Lothaire dragged his hand over his chin and scoffed like I was ridiculous. Then he chuckled.
He laughed.
At me.
At my feelings.
The emptiness became a cliff.
“You don’t get to choose not to compete,” Lothaire said with finality. “The gods personally handpicked the legions, and you were named a part of this one. You’re already a member. There’s no choice to be made. Your fate has been decided.”
The cliff became a free fall.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Nodded.
And walked backward across the room to put space between us.
The other recruits were standing with their legs parted. Heads down. Arms behind their backs respectfully.
I adopted the same position.
Lothaire kept talking to me like we were having a conversation. “You are strong, daughter. We can use this to your advantage. Being in a legion has many benefits. I’ve thought about it, and everything is working out for the best.”
I nodded as I stared at the floor.
Lothaire had made his choice.
I was making mine.
“This is good, Arabella.” There was a note of desperation in his voice.
Silence.
When it became clear that I wasn’t going to respond, Lothaire addressed the rest of the room, “This legion is an honor for each one of you. You’ll be connected to one another for the rest of your immortal lives. You’ll be stronger together. Unbeatable.”
The flames screamed.
Lothaire waited for an answer.
“Whatever you say, sir,” I said in a monotone voice.
Lothaire flinched like I’d hit him. “I swear you will know peace one day, my daughter, but it must be earned with blood and pain. That is how our world works and sheltering you won’t change that fact.”
I replied in a monotone voice, “Yes, sir.”
Horace’s desperate gurgles as I stabbed him.
Tara’s sightless eyes.
A snap of a finger, the half warriors dead.
“WHORE” carved into my flesh.
Villagers grunting as they died.
Anxiety and depression consuming me.
The slave tattoo on my hip.
Fighting monsters in the shifter realm.
Mother’s endless flames burning but never leaving any marks.