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"Then you'd better get started planning your own demise," she snaps back. "Mark my words, Death will be your only escape from this marriage. So, tell me, how do you plan to throw yourself upon death's door? Can you imagine what your father would say if he could hear you now?"
Her cold laugh fills the room as she shakes her head at me, and I see the challenge in her eyes. I know I'll never be able to change her mind, but that doesn't mean I won't try to take fate into my own hands.
Anger burns through me, blurring my vision as I take in a deep breath. She may believe that she's the only one left who can make this decision, but I won't allow it.
Not as long as Father still draws breath. After what Lord Payne did to me today, I know for certain this betrothal wasneversomething he'd agree to.
Moving past my stepmother, I dart up the stairs.
Merelda makes no move to follow after me as I hurry down the hall toward Father’s room.
I stop just outside the door, my heart pounding in my chest as I press a hand to the wood. Am I truly prepared to see whatever lies within?
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I close my eyes and push open the door.
The room is so dark that I have to blink several times to make sure I've actually opened my eyes. As my vision adjusts to the dimness of the room, I step inside. One step is all it takes for me to clearly see the severity of the situation.
Father is in bed, dwarfed by the blankets and pillows piled on top and around him. Behind a heavy metal grate, I can hear the crackle of a fire as it adds smoke and heat, but little light, to the already stiflingly hot room.
I take another step inside, straining my eyes in the dark as I draw closer to the bed. Father looks even worse than I'd expected. His skin is sallow, his face terrifying in its stillness. His eyes are closed, and for one terrible moment, I fear that he's no longer breathing.
Then I see his chest rise ever so slightly.
Gone is the strong man that my father once was, replaced by this fragile creature on the very brink of death.
What have they done to him?
What are theydoingto him?
It makes no sense for the room to be so warm, the air thick with sweat and smoke. He should be given fresh air and sunshine.
Standing beside the bed, I reach to take his hand. It's clammy with sweat as I squeeze it in my own. For the first time in my life, I note that his fingers are not stained with ink.
"Oh, Father," I breathe, dropping to my knees and pressing my forehead to the back of his hand, still clasped in my own. "Please. Please don't leave me. I can't bear the thought of life without you. There's still so much that I have to tell you."
As if on cue, everything I've held back comes tumbling from my lips. I tell him about Merelda's plan to wed me Lord Payne ... of how he treated me just moments ago. I hold nothing back as I explain what I've had to go through ever since he brought Merelda into our home, even going so far as to tell him of Amadeus' cruelty and Cyprian's strange kindness.
The words fall freely, my heart clearing itself of the weight it's held for so long, and I pray to the gods he can hear me. That he understands what I'm saying.
I need him to hear me ... I need him to stay.
Life without him here isn't one I want to find myself familiar with. He's still so young, at least it's always felt that way, and he has so much more life ahead of him. I'm sure of it.
I refuse to let Merelda and the doctor speak this curse of death over him. I refuse to let them destroy our future together.
"I promise you," I whisper, my eyes searching his face, "I will find a way to save you, Father. I'll bring you back from death's door, even if it's the last thing I do."
The tears on my cheeks dry, leaving salty trails over my skin, as I watch Father's chest slowly rise and fall.
But he makes no other movement. Not even the fluttering of his eyes or the twitch of a finger to signal that he's heard what I've said.
Slowly, I rise to my feet.
Things are far worse than I could ever have imagined, but I will not allow my father to die so easily.
I don't care what I must do, but I'll find a way to save him. There must be someone out there who can help him. I won't waste what days he has left mourning him before he's even gone.
Determined to set out in search of help, I quietly slip back out into the hall.
