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“You understand why I can’t let you back in, right?”
Dad clears his throat, and I look away as he discreetly swipes a finger underneath both his eyes—presumably to wipe stray tears away. It guts me we’re estranged, and that I’m so distrusting of him.
“I understand, and I dare say you’re correct not to trust me, Acacia. You know, I was like you once. I believed I could live my life the right way. All I wanted was you and your mom, but life has a way of binding us all. I know I have no right to ask, but I hope you’ll answer this one question. If it wasn’t for the auction, would you have married Kairos?”
A mirthless laugh escapes before I can stop it. “I can’t answer that,” I say. Then I hurry to add, “That’s like asking if Gus and I would have found a way to be together if I’d said no to being Nikolaos’ Protégé. I would like to think so, but I can’t say for certain. What I can give you is this, I was interested in Kai before the auction.”
That reminds me…
“Did you know about the auction and Marian’s involvement before Nikolaos’ funeral?” I ask.
When we returned from my uncle’s funeral rites, I asked Kai if my dad knew, and my husband confirmed my suspicion. Dad was only acting like he didn’t know, so I already have my answer. However, I need to know if he’s going to be truthful with me.
I listen intently as Dad explains that he already knew about it from both my uncle and husband, but that he didn’t want to let my aunt know how updated he was. “If she knew, she wouldn’t trust me. And I very much need her trust so I can deliver her to the Tribunal.”
The Tribunal… isn’t that who he threatened Liam with when Abel was keeping me and Gus safe while we waited for Kai?
“Who or what is the Tribunal?” I ask.
Even though I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard about it before, I try to sort through memories for anything I might have forgotten. Nothing comes to mind, though, and Dad is refusing to answer the question. Instead, he’s suggesting I watch an old movie.
Feeling frustrated and raw by everything he has and hasn’t disclosed today, I scoff. “I don’t need entertainment.”
“I fear there isn’t much more I can tell you,” he says, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “But there’s one last thing I need to tell you. I’m afraid it’s purely for selfish reasons, because I want you to hear about it from me first.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes don’t stray from mine, and it feels like he’s trying to communicate via his gaze.
“Despite my warnings, I have a feeling you’re going to do your damndest to uncover everything. I hope you won’t, because it might just cost you everything. However, I also know you’re my daughter. You might not want to admit it, but we’re a lot alike…”
The silence that follows is deafening. It makes me feel as though he’s preparing for what he’s going to say next, and I mentally try to do the same—instinctively knowing I won’t like it.
When he speaks again, red-hot anger erupts inside me. Each word makes me thirst for retribution for my uncle, and I have to leash my emotions not to throw myself at my dad. I keep reminding myself that I wanted answers, a silent mantra that helps keep me rooted as my dad tells me how he’s single-handedly pulled the rug from under me.
“I had to. It was time,” he says, gruffly. “I didn’t want to. I hope you know that. Although I loved my brother dearly, it was time. The Tribunal demanded the sacrifice to pave the way, and as part of my punishment, I had to carry out the sentence.”
It takes everything in me not to draw my knife and demand his blood as penance. My body is vibrating with the anger I’m barely holding back. As I look at him, I hardly recognize him. It’s not just because of the years that have gone by. No, that’s the least of the changes. It’s the… there’s a deadly harshness in him I’ve never seen before.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, he’s not just a Drákon. He’s the former and current Leader—a trained killer. Then there’s the other side to him, the one that makes him look like he’s carrying the entire world on his shoulders. I wonder if the wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes are caused by the burdens of his life, or age.
While I unashamedly study my dad, he sits completely still. Though I know he can feel my gaze, he continues to look out the windows, and I wonder if it truly is too late for us. Maybe if I can get over my anger and hurt… maybe then we can get to know each other again.
“Your breathing suggests you’ve calmed down,” he says, still not looking in my direction. “I remember when I tucked you into bed at night when you were a kid. You always wanted me to read stories to you. Do you remember that?”
I nod.
“You never wanted the classic bedtime stories…” he chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “The thirst you had for stories about heroes and monsters took us through so many books that probably weren’t appropriate for your age. But you loved them, and that was all that mattered to me. As your dad, I wanted to be your hero, and I’ve tried really hard to be. But… even heroes fall, Acacia. Mortals make mistakes, and then we pay the price.”
My throat closes up at his words. His tone is… it reminds me of the calm before the storm, and it’s making me feel like the ground beneath my feet is about to be ripped away—leaving me broken and bruised.
“Of course, I remember,” I whisper, emotions making it impossible to speak at a normal volume. “I… I’m having a hard time reconciling the you from my memories with the man sitting in front of me, but how could I forget?”
He makes a choked sound before turning his head towards me. His eyes shine with unshed tears, and I grip the armrests on the chair. The devastation on his face makes my heart ache. A part of me wants to throw myself at him, to hug him one more time.
“Don’t look at me like that, Acacia. I’m not your hero,” he scoffs like he’s disgusted with himself. “I’m a man that fucked up and lost everything that mattered to him…” As he trails off, he wipes away the stray tears that escape his eyes and clears his throat. “I know it’s getting late, but I ask that you stay until I finish my tale. This time you deserve to be warned.”
I try to steady myself for what’s coming, to numb myself. But I can’t. As I listen to my dad explain, I feel as though someone has punched through my ribcage and is squeezing my still-beating organ. My entire body is shaking, and I want nothing more than to scream.
Scream at my dad to stop talking. Scream at the universe for being so cruelly unfair. But most of all… I want to scream at myself.
