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“Zahra?” Cord asked her softly. Her head did not turn to him, but he knew she was aware that he was there. “Are you well?”
Zahra snorted softly in contempt. Cord was known for his aloof manner, but Zahra was just as well known for her haughtiness. He had always suspected that it was her superior attitude that drew his mother, Delilah, to her.
“You are choosing not to speak?” Cord guessed. “Too concerned with what they will ask you?” He knew it was probably too harsh, considering what she had been through, but Cord wasn’t known for diplomacy, and her hiding irritated him. She wasn’t hiding from the attack, she was hiding from her own actions.
Zahra turned her head and met his stare coldly. “Get out.”
“So, you do speak? Splendid.” Cord strode forward and sat down beside her. “I was told you had chosen to be a mute forever, and although I would not complain never to hear your shrill piercing voice again, I think your father may argue.”
“You are truly hateful,” Zahra snapped at him before she turned back to look out the window.
“Yes, I am truly despicable.” Cord stretched his legs out in front of him and adjusted his robes. “Of course, you knew that, just as I knew you were a spoiled, selfish little beast who would eventually make a fool of my brother.” Zahra gasped and bent her head. He saw the tears fall, and Cord felt a twinge of guilt, but he pushed it away. “Are your tears for him? Or for yourself?”
Zahra’s head whipped around to Cord as she glared at him. “You have no idea what they did to me!” she shouted angrily.
Cord heard the footsteps come running as he stood. “I do not, no…but it wasn’t a Drakhyn that you lay with in the first place, was it?”
Zahra screamed her fury at him. Leaping up, she launched herself at him, and Cord caught her easily. He held her at arm’s length as Salem and Michael ran into the room.
“Zahra?” Salem rushed forward and collected his daughter into his arms. “Castor, what have you done?”
“Her bruises and her scars may no longer be visible,” Cord said quietly as he watched Zahra crumple in her father’s arms. “But just because you cannot see them, does not mean she does not wear them.” He pulled his hood over his head. “She’s already broken; treating her as if she will break is wrong.” Cord looked at Michael, who was glaring at him. “Zahra has plenty of fight left in her. Let her fight. It needs to come out. Stop coddling her. You know as well as I do that she is hiding in here in shame.”
“Is that why she is crying?” Michael demanded angrily. “Youtoldher this?”
“The truth hurts as much as the bruises.” Cord met Zahra’s stare, and she turned her head away, huddling closer to her father, but Cord had seen her smirk at the thought that Michael was going to defend her. “Talk to your family, Zahra. Too many are being hurt with your silence.”
As Cord turned to leave, Michael grabbed his arm. “Only because of what you did in her name, Castor. That is why you get to speak to her like that.Once. Only once.”
“I am sure once is all that was needed.” Cord removed Michael’s hand from his arm and left the room. He walked to his brother’s room, and the door opened before he reached for the handle.
“I knew it was you when I heard screaming and running,” Sloane told him by way of greeting as he stepped back into his room.
“It’s like my own personal fanfare,” Cord grinned at him as he sat.
“What did you say to her?” Sloane asked grimly. “That’s the first noise she has made since she woke up.”
Cord snorted in contempt. “They should thank me.”
“For making a trauma victim scream?” Sloane asked dryly. “You must be so proud.”
“I am.” Cord grinned at his little brother. “She will talk now, probably about how much she hates me.” He shrugged indifferently. “As long as it’s words, does it matter?”
“You’re such a cold son of a Drakhyn,” Sloane muttered as he took a seat. “Why are you here? Tegan is on patrol.”
“Of course she is, such a good little soldier.” Cord looked Sloane over carefully. “You are well?”
“Sure.” Sloane attempted indifference but failed. “Do you care?” he asked when he saw Cord’s smirk.
“You know I do,” Cord answered, his voice barely audible.
“Sorry, that was such aCordthing to say,” Sloane offered with a sheepish smile. “I am well, brother. They fixed me up, and I am right as rain.”
“And your thoughts? They are untroubled?”
“My head is feeling...full,” Sloane admitted tiredly.
“She broke your betrothal, but you are not heartbroken or something equally appallingly noble.”
