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"Careful boy, you'll go too far."
"I’m notmarryinganyone, old man. Not until I see her with my own eyes, and choose her for myself.”
"You’ll do what you're ordered to do. I let your mother live too long. She always let you run wild, like a thing of the sea. Now that she's dead and buried, you can finally earn your place.” My father's gravelly voice changes as he turns to Kyran and beckons him forward. "Kyran, come here."
“Your majesty,” Kyran replies, walking quickly to kneel at my father's feet.
In a blur of motion, my father snatches Kyran up by the throat and holds him in the air. His hand squeezes until Kyran's face turns red. The edges of his claws just barely dent the flesh.
I move a few inches. My father’s guards, elite and dangerous, eye me warily. Even my father’s eyes betray a hint of fear.
No one really knows if they could stop me, or what the cost of doing so might be.
“If you take one more step,” my father growls, “the next time you visit the throne room, you’ll be chained like an animal.”
If he’d wanted to, my father could tear Kyran’s head clean off.
Kyran doesn't dare kick or fight. He has to just hang there and dangle like he's at the end of a noose. The gurgling, strangling noises coming from his throat infuriate me.
And my father knows it.
“You’ll marry her?”
He watches me carefully, to see if I'll attack, or if I can be controlled like a dog.
I stand and watch as the fury builds inside me. Kyran ismyright hand. Chosen by me.Mine. He's also my best friend. Myonlyfriend, if I'm being honest. I can't react or show weakness.
But in my soul, I vow to take revenge for this humiliation. Somehow, I'll make my father pay.
My father grits his teeth. Kyran's legs stop twitching as he loses consciousness.
"You're right about one thing, father,” I tell him. “I’m certainly more suited to marriage than Jarrad ever was. I'm assuming it's awomanyou want me to marry."
Kyran hits the floor, gasping for breath. My father glares murderously at me. He takes a step forward, then another. Coming towards me. The IV stand nearly topples, and Octavian catches it deftly. My father’s hands flex like he'd like to wrap them around my throat.
But he doesn't come any closer.
My father, the great and feared Lysander Nightshade, ruler of the clan for a thousand years, hasn't come within arm's reach of me since I was a baby. He's never touched me that I can recall.
Not after he learned I could give people endless nightmares. That I can control their dreams.
When I was a toddler, nannies would tend to me with gloved hands, holding me like I was radioactive. A two year old capable of destroying a person's mind with his touch is terrifying to people. I understand it now, but then, it seemed impossibly cruel.
Only my mother, and sweet Jarrad would dare to touch me. Mother, because she knew I’d never hurt her, and Jarrad, because he feared nothing and no one.
My father had always maintained Jarrad was a leader of men. His social circles were full of wealthy and powerful men, that was for sure. But it had nothing to do with his leadership.
Jarrad had no use for women.
His 'friends' were wealthy, powerful, andbeautiful. And Jarrad loved them all. He had such a big heart, and was rumored to give the best head in all of Faerie, something that wounded our father's pride so deeply, it never fully recovered.
It was a lover who killed Jarrad. Who seduced and assassinated him. And he made sure Jarrad's body left no doubt how he'd died, in the throes of passion.
But to mention it in front of my father was courting death. No one but me would ever let it pass their lips. And normally, I wouldn't either. It feels cruel to use Jarrad’s memory that way. And I liked that he was gay. He was a great brother.
But Kyran is still breathing because I did this.
Now, I must repair things with the old man as best I can.
