“Eventually. I envision a scenario where we allow Soren to spend himself on war, acquiring territory for us, perhaps sadly get himself killed. Then Rupert holds the throne awhile andassists in the elimination of his younger brothers. He feels the prick of their ambition, especially as it seems he’s unable to sire heirs of his own. With his level of dissipation, he’ll be simple to eliminate once Sebastien is next in line. But we have time for that. I want to discuss how you’ll push Soren into war. I think we should position him to attack Zarja there. There is a sorceress in her court, a Yelena, who is restless for a greater role and is ready to betray her queen, given opportunity—and in exchange for the promise of being free of the blood geas. You can communicate with her via the Dream and—”
“I’m not doing any of that,” she interrupted, her voice syrupy.
He paused only a moment, a flicker of irritation quickly banished. “I’ve spent years strategizing and seeking the best path for you. Trust in me. Do as I say and I promise you’ll rise to great heights. Just as we’ve always dreamed.”
She laughed. “And all the candy I can eat, too? I’m not a child anymore,” she explained slowly when he blinked in shock. “I’m a woman grown. A mature sorceress. I will choose my own path.”
“But I’ve spent decades planning this moment,” Clotaire protested. “I understand you’re still angry with me, but—”
“Angry?” she interrupted. “No, ‘angry’ is too mild a term for what I am. I am the embodiment of rage. I am fury. I am the chosen companion of the avatar of She Who Eats Bears, goddess of vengeance and righteous justice. I am not human. Thorn may have created me as a monster, but I am free to act as it pleases me. Have you considered what that means?”
Clotaire blanched, the pale chill of fear leaching color from his brown complexion. She found the sight more satisfying than perhaps she should. Then she reminded herself of all the years Thorn spent in fear.
“You won’t harm me,” her father said, voice not quite certain. He seemed to suddenly realize that the weapon he’d forged could be turned against him. “You love me.”
“You yourself pointed out that I’m not human. I’m not capable of love.”
“Haven’t I been good to you all these years? You’ve wanted for nothing.”
“Jewels. Gowns. Mere substitutes for parental care. Meanwhile, Thorn wanted for everything.”
“Pfft.” He waved that off. “Thorn has her heart’s desire in every way. She’s flourishing. You should have seen the wedding,” he added slyly. “Besotted with each other, those two. Though you shouldn’t regret losing Sebastien.” He oozed false sympathy, clearly enjoying needling her. “He’s not terribly bright. Certainly not good enough for you.”
She decided not to counter any of that. “You allowed Jada to make Thorn sleep away seven years of her life, more or less.”
“I told you, I didn’t know. I couldn’t do anything about—”
“I’m not interested in your excuses.”
“I dealt with Jada!” he exploded, standing in his outrage. “I did as you all demanded. She is handled.”
“Thorn dealt with her. You simply turned the key in the lock.” Jada caged, sleeping in the thorn-covered cottage for all time, was fitting. And a similar fate would work for Clotaire. “Now it’s your turn to pay a price for what you’ve done.”
“You wouldn’t. You can’t.”
“Oh, I can and I would,” she assured him. “Here is my sentence. You will sleep for seven years, the same amount of time as your neglected daughter did. I’ll see how I feel at the end of them. If I remember. I might be busy, living my life and doing as I please. Isn’t that what you wanted for me?”
“Within reason,” he snarled. “You forget that Madame Hendricks still holds your blood geas. I have an understanding with her. Sooner or later, I’ll be missed, and she will tighten your leash.”
Rose tsked at him. “You have failed to think through the implications of Thorn re-creating me from the Dream. Fortunately,I am cleverer than you are. I realized it the moment I first physically walked the Dream.”
Yes, in truth, it had taken her a bit longer to figure this out, but the story flowed better this way.
“I had to re-create my body to emerge, you realize. It came as a shock to me, that first time. But I am, as you’ve noted repeatedly, not actually human. I am the Dream made flesh. Which means I can re-create my flesh to be anything I wish it to be. I chose to be without the blood geas. There really is nothing stopping me from doing anything I like—and I have the power to do it. What I like right now is executing my judgment upon you.”
Clotaire whitened further, looking like a walking corpse as the implications sank in. Then he ran, bolting for the door. Rose sketched a portal, stepped through it—and reconstructed herself as a huge, saber-fanged tiger. It was showing off, over-the-top, and completely unnecessary as she could have simply hit her father with a sleep inducement, but she’d been practicing emerging from the Dream in different forms, useful for various occasions and purposes. Scaring the piss out of her father made it all worth it.
She pounced on him gently, as she had no intention of injuring him, but maybe enjoying his shrieks of terror too much. Chiding herself—no need to become more of an irretrievable monster sooner than would inevitably occur—she put him to sleep. Then she sketched a new portal, stepping through it and re-emerging wearing a new body, with short blond hair and a warrior’s build. She surveyed Clotaire a moment, stretched along the rich carpet, one hand still reaching futilely for the door.
The stories always said vengeance poisoned the person visiting it, that revenge felt empty when realized. But she felt satisfied and full of righteous power. She held up her forearm and Adsila—who seemed to know her regardless of what form she took—flew to her, giving a cry of satisfaction that echoed the hot blood surging in Rose’s heart. She rang the bell and Berent, the houndmaster, arrived almost immediately.
She’d befriended him as soon as she arrived at the lodge, posing as a guardsman of Sebastien’s, conveying the prince’s regards.
“Guardsman Gwendolyn,” he acknowledged, bowing deeply. “This is the one His Highness wants stored?”
“Yes, please. He won’t need food or water, but keep him warm. I’ll be back periodically to check on him.” Despite how she’d taunted Clotaire, she planned to visit and make sure of his health. Murder wasn’t in her. Not yet, anyway.
“We’ll keep him safe,” Berent said. “I have just the place for him.”
