We Promised

Chapter 14

He's seated in the war room like he owns the place. In the back of my mind, a voice whispers, perhaps he does. I'm next to Blayne and Athena, both in throne chairs of their own. Evelyn takes her place next to Father as always. Their chairs are grandest, representing their power and position. "As much as I despise your revolting faces, we have things to discuss. Very important things. Unfortunately, you are my children. The Royal Line must continue. We need heirs." Evelyn tenses at the term and her eyes flit to me. I can't dissect what she's feeling, either remorse or anger, but I'm so hyper-aware of Father in his chair that I can't bring myself to care. At least he gets straight to the point. His knuckles are so familiar with my face, and his knees and feet are so familiar with the pattern of my ribs. I shiver at how close I am to someone who's tortured me for most of my life. "The Royal Court and their families will be coming here to strengthen our alliances and control once more the parts of the Empire that have... weakened in our control. Your sister is Queen and she needs a worthy partner to do this." I glare at Evelyn and she drops her gaze, acknowledging her mistakes. "You." I stare at Father from across the table. Why can't he ever say my name? "You will be presented for marriage along with your sister." My hearing fades in and out as shock lands over the room like a thick, damn blanket.

I begin to speak but Blayne beats me to it. "Father, Ilvera is-," Blayne begins but Father cuts him off. "Is... worthless? A stupid wretch? A disgusting cretin that happened to have Royal blood? I've known this for most of her miserable life but she is a royal and we need to use her." Use her. He speaks as if I'm a vessel and nothing more. I need to pop out babies and live in miserable silence until the end of my days. Blayne clenches his fists, his knuckles going white. "She's too young," Blayne forces through his teeth. "This is absurd!" I yell as I stand, slamming a hand onto the table. I realize I'm standing now, and whatever is keeping my legs firm, I'm grateful for it. He raises an eyebrow in challenge. "Have you learned nothing over the years? You dare question me?!" His volume cuts off any retort growing in my throat and he rises from his seat.

I hate how he tries to scare me, and how he succeeds. I swallow thickly, licking my lips. He tries to cut me in any way possible and now, he's taken over my future too. Marriage. Bile rises in my throat at the thought. "When do they arrive? When do the royal families arrive?" I ask with an edge in my tone. My father does not respond.

He likes to do this. He uses this strategy when we use a tone he doesn't like. He ignores the question until we ask him the way he wants. He wants us to speak quietly, belittle us, to give him power because he can't get it anywhere else. That or he punches the question off of our tongues, depending on his mood. "When do they arrive, Father?" I say in a monotone, as quietly as I can. "Tomorrow morning." He sneers at my anger, a rage threatening to burn me alive. I turn and make my way to the doors, my hand on the brass knocker knob. "Did I say you could leave, child?"

"Why do I have to stay? Try and stop me. I dare you." Shit. I need to start thinking before I speak. He stands from his seat once more and Blayne puts himself between us. "Father! She's overwhelmed and jetlagged. She'll be fine by tomorrow. I promise." I glance at Blayne gratefully and he glares at me, angry at me or Father. I'm not entirely sure of anything at the moment. "Very well. Get out of my sight, you disgraceful trollop." I follow through with his orders, the moment they leave his lips.

The corridor looks like it might never end. I can't stop my tears from flowing as it sends streams of heat over my skin. I have no escape. I'm finally desperate enough to grab onto anything that will save me from the life that's set for me. Rebellion whisps through my spiraling thoughts, igniting hope in my soul. If I fight, this could all be over. I'll be away from him and I'll be free. I hold onto it with all my strength, guarding the spark of hope and protecting it with everything I have inside of me. Vivamus, moriendum est. Silver is the color of the better future.