Her fingers tremble, and she puts the glass aside, focusing on me. “Tell me what, exactly?”
There’s no more avoiding this.
“The person who gave me these scars wasn’t a stranger to me.”
But I wish they were. I wish my mother had never dropped me at the foot of the throne, wish I’d never met the king.
Wren shifts closer, placing her hand on my knee. Her touch is warm, and heat spirals from that point of contact. I hadn’t even realized how cold I had become.
“Who . . .”
“My father.” The hushed confession seems to boom, and for a long moment, all I can hear is the pounding of my heart. It slams against my ribs.
Wren’s fingers tighten. “What the fuck? Why would he?—”
“He hates me.”
“What?” Shock is clear in her voice, and gods, what must it be like to wonder how a parent could harbor hatred for their child? To not know the sting of being despised by the ones who are meant to love you?
I will never know.
“I don’t understand, Gabe.” Her voice is a mere whisper. “Why would he do this to you?”
I’ve asked myself that same question hundreds of times over the years.
My father’s boots click as he circles my kneeling form.
Severus is standing in the corner of the cell, leaning against the wall. His foot is kicked back, and his arms are crossed as he sneers at me. His hair is blond, where mine is dark, but like me, he is tall. Our noses are the same, and we both have green eyes.
Severus wears his hatred of me like a tunic, and he never takes it off. I cannot remember a time when he hasn’t looked at me as though I am less than scum. I used to think he would grow out of it, but I’m sixteen now, and he only seems to despise me more.
I don’t like him much, either. I’d glare right back at my half brother but remaining conscious is taking all my strength. The stones beneath my hands are damp with my blood, and agonizing pain radiates through me.
“You are such a motherfucking disappointment, Gabriel,” the king says, trailing his crimson whip behind him.
A few sparks shoot off it, coming dangerously close to me. I know how much they hurt when they land on exposed flesh, but I don’t flinch.
Showing weakness in front of these two will only make things worse. I’m not even sure why I was dragged in here today. I was in the training yard when I received the king’s summons.
No one can ignore those.
I walked into the castle of my own volition, where I was dragged down to the dungeon by my father’s favorite Protectors. A few minutes later, the king strode in with Severuson his heels like an eager puppy. My half brother doesn’t always join in on these torture seasons, but when he does, they’re worse.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” I grit.
I don’t even know what the fuck I’m apologizing for.
The king raises his whip, and I brace myself for what comes next. The pain. The agony of having my flesh torn apart. The blood.
This beating has already been worse than most of the ones I’ve endured, and even with blessed salve, I know I’ll be laid up for days, healing from this.
But the whip doesn’t land. After a few moments, I look up. The king is studying the crown prince—the child he loves. The one who shares his blood and his magic.
“My son,” the king says with a strange mixture of warmth and ice that has my skin crawling. “Would you like to administer the next portion of your brother’s punishment?”
A wolfish smile creeps along Severus’s face. He pushes off the wall and saunters over, coming to stand next to the king, but he doesn’t take the whip. Instead, he extends his hand. Severus turned twenty-one a few months ago, and he and our father have been spending more time together than ever.
Scarlet sparks, brighter than our father’s crimson, erupt from my brother’s hand. I watch in awe and horror as Severus forms a whip identical to the king’s, and my stomach knots.
