by J. J. Green
“I’m so disappointed in you, my dear.”
“But—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Please don’t insult me with lies. I know exactly why you’re here, but I must say that it comes as somewhat of a surprise. After all our years of marriage, after our love-making last night, I’d thought that I’d come to mean something to you. That we had come to mean something to you.”
He approached her, waves of evil intent emanating from him and washing over Faye like a tsunami of horror. What would he do? When and how would the punishment fall? She hoped desperately he would take it out on her and not the children.
He stood so close, their noses were almost touching. “Look into my eyes, my dear.”
She unglued her gaze from his neck with its silken cravat and fixed it on his pale blue irises.
“Have I not been good, kind, and generous to you? You want for nothing. You have the very best of everything. Think back to the state you were in when I found you. Skinny, poor, and wearing clothes that wouldn’t be fit for rags in this home. I’ve given you more than you could have even imagined. And this is how you repay me.”
Thwarted in her efforts to warn her remaining non-enslaved child, Faye’s frustration and rage overflowed. She worked her saliva into a gob and spat in her husband’s face. “You bastard,” she yelled. “You captured me and the only man I ever loved. A man whose shoes you weren’t fit to lick. You raped me. You made me give up my secrets on the promise that you would spare my husband’s life. Then you murdered him in front of me. I don’t care how many jewels you throw at me. I don’t care how many dresses you buy me. I don’t care what fine foods you give me to eat. One day I’ll make you pay for everything you’ve done. One day I’ll have my revenge on you, Stefan Sherrer, you evil, perverted freak.”
The color drained from Stefan’s face. He grabbed her hair and marched toward the house, dragging her along. She screamed and fought, but his fury leant him extra strength. When she scratched and bit him, he dropped her, hauled her to her feet, then slapped her so hard she fell down. He pummeled her face, gripped her wrist so tightly it cut off the sensation from her hand, and pulled her once more to the house.
As they got closer, Faye glimpsed the heads of the children appearing at windows then swiftly disappearing as their tutors or a sense of self-preservation told them it was wiser not to look. Despite her earlier bravery, Faye’s courage was deserting her. The sight of her children reminded her of the punishment that lay ahead.
Please, please don’t hurt my children. She couldn’t speak the thought aloud. It would only fuel his sick satisfaction at meting out whatever it was he had in store.
No servants appeared when they got to the house. When Stefan was in a rage, they were wise enough not to show their faces unless called. He dragged her upstairs and threw her into her room, then closed and locked the door.
***
When he returned, hours later, she was in the same position she’d fallen when he’d thrown her to the floor, where she had sobbed out her ages-old grief for poor, dead Kris and her despair at her predicament. She was lying motionless, only hoping that somehow it could all end.
“Get up,” Stefan said.
Like an automaton, Faye rose to her feet.
“Come with me.”
She followed him downstairs to the breakfast room, which was odd because it was late afternoon. When she went inside, her heart stopped. Darius was sitting at the table.
“Mother,” he exclaimed, happy to see her. He went to get down from his chair to run over and give her a hug, but his father said:
“Stay where you are.”
The little boy looked down and remained in his seat.
“Sit down, Faye.”
Trembling, she did as he told her. She hardly dared to think what Stefan had in mind, but if he harmed one hair on her little boy’s head, she would throttle him where he sat.
A dish of shaved ice and sweet pudding sat in the center of the table, just enough for one person. It took Faye a moment to understand what this might mean. When she did, the hairs stood up on the back of her neck.
“Darius,” Stefan said, “you’ve been such a good boy recently, I’ve arranged a small surprise for you. I know how much you love Cook’s desserts, so I had her whip one up especially as a reward. I invited Mother along so that we can both watch you enjoy it. Here you are.”
He lifted the bowl and placed it in front of the boy. Faye gasped. It was poisoned. The dessert was poisoned. As her punishment, Stefan was going to murder their child.
Darius wasn’t stupid. It was clear from his expression that he knew there was something very wrong with the situation.
“What’s the matter?” Stefan barked. “Don’t be an ungrateful child. Eat up.”
Darius’ gaze was locked with Faye’s, reading the terror on her face. His lower lip quivered.
Stefan shouted, “Darius!” The child started and snatched up his spoon.
“Don’t,” exclaimed Faye. She turned tear-filled eyes to her husband. “Please.” She swallowed. “Please. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything.”
Stefan folded his arms. He rubbed his chin. “Really? That’s very interesting. Anything?” He said to his son, “Darius, you don’t seem to want the nice pudding I had made especially for you. Is that correct?”
The little boy nodded.
“I see. Well, it would be a pity to allow it to go to waste. Shall we ask Mother if she would like to eat it?”
Darius turned questioning eyes to Faye. Before he could speak, and forever remember that he was the cause of his mother’s death, she blurted, “Yes, I would like to eat it. I want to eat it. Do you mind Darius?”
“No, I don’t mind. You’re welcome, Mother. I hope you like it.”
Faye took the bowl and spoon and quickly, before she had time to think about what she was doing, ate the dessert in large mouthfuls, forcing the sickly sweet substance down between gasping sobs. When the bowl was empty she sat with fat tears rolling down her cheeks, waiting for the poison to take effect. She kept her gaze on her sweet child so that he would be the last thing she saw.
Darius had begun to cry too, though he couldn’t have understood what was going on. For several minutes they sat, looking at each other. Just as Faye was thinking she should have left the room so that Darius wouldn’t see her final moments, Stefan burst into laughter.
“Aren’t you two a pair of sad turtles? Look at you both. Crying over a silly dessert. How funny you are.” He chuckled and shook his head, then got up from the table.
Faye nearly collapsed with relief. The dessert hadn’t been poisoned. He’d only wanted to scare her.
“Darius,” Stefan said, suddenly serious again, “go and play.”
The little boy jumped down from his seat and ran out of the room.
“Faye, you really are a fool if you think I would hurt Darius. He’s a mage and from what I can tell a very good one. With Parthenia, Oriana, and Ferne, I have four mages under my control, which makes you rather surplus to requirements, don’t you think? I know exactly what you were doing this afternoon, Faye. If you ever attempt anything like that again, what I’ll do to you will have you begging for a quick death from poison.”
Chapter Fourteen
Stefan’s sick punishment was turning out to be a watershed in their relationship, Faye realized a few days later. He had ceased to focus on her and instead began to show Parthenia much more attention than he had previously, usually within Faye’s presence. When their eldest daughter wasn’t looking, he would throw Faye a malevolent smirk, making clear his statement that now that Parthenia was growing into womanhood and her full mage power, Faye was indeed “surplus to requirements.”
The idea that her husband was grooming Parthenia into his willing servant sickened Faye to the depths of her stomach, but she didn’t know what to do about it. The poor child, who had craved her father’s affection for so long, blossomed in happiness whenever Stefan spoke to her kindly, pra
ising her efforts in her classes or her appearance. She began to decorate her hair every day with a ribbon or ornamental combs and pins, and every evening at dinner she would speak about what she’d learned at length, encouraged by Stefan’s enthusiastic nods and smiles.
At such times, Faye could only listen and watch, wishing that she could have given her daughter a better father, someone who truly loved her for who she was and would never have manipulated her young mind and heart—a man, not a monster.
One afternoon, in the garden, Stefan stooped lower than even Faye had thought he could go. He’d been away since the previous day—flying off to a clan meeting—and the usual sense of relief and calm had settled over the estate as it always did while he was gone. Faye was in her usual elevated spot that gave her a clear view of most of the expanse of manicured greenery and flowers, and so also of her children as they played.
Parthenia was teaching her pet tricks. She had a tarsul, a long-limbed, tree-climbing animal that was dappled pale green and brown—a camouflage that worked effectively when it was up among the leaves and branches. Tarsuls lived only three or four years, and Parthenia’s had died a few months previously. One of Stefan’s recent kindnesses to his eldest daughter had been to surprise her with a replacement. The animal arrived already house-trained, but Parthenia was teaching it to pick and bring her ripe fruit from the garden’s trees. There was always something fruiting, and all the children loved to eat the freshly picked produce.
Oriana and Ferne were playing hide-and-go-seek, Castiel was bouncing a ball against a house wall. Nahla stood at her brother’s side, begging him to play with her, but he was acting as though she didn’t exist.
The children had, as usual, quickly and instinctively diverged into their two groups. The ones who had inherited her mage abilities and the two who hadn’t—Castiel and Nahla—stayed subtly but distinctly apart. Oriana and Ferne would gladly have allowed Nahla to join in their game, but she preferred the company of Castiel, even though he was cool and dismissive toward her. At thirteen years of age, he was also five years older than her, while the twins, at ten years old, were closer in age to Nahla, who was eight. Yet still Faye’s youngest daughter never gave up on her unrequited affection for Castiel. And though he rarely gave her the time of day, he was more often than not neutral in his attitude, whereas he clearly despised the others.
Of all her children, Castiel was the most like Stefan, Faye was forced to admit. In that regard, it was just as well that he hadn’t inherited mage power. She suspected that if he had, he would have been a dark mage, drawing energy from the unseen matter of the universe and using his ability to cause pain and create havoc.
Though she didn’t know how to perform the test that would confirm her intuition, she guessed that Parthenia, Oriana, and Ferne were star mages like herself. Darius, however, she suspected was a spirit mage who relied on the power generated by living things.
Spirit mages were sensitive to emotions and the waxing and waning of the life force. On more than one occasion, Darius had shown himself to be highly receptive and responsive to the feelings of those around him, most recently during the horrifying episode in the breakfast room. He had picked up on both her terror and his father’s fury. Spirit mages were delicate beings who were happiest when protected from extreme emotional states. Pushed to an extreme, they could lose their abilities, yet Faye could not explain that to Stefan. He would only be interested in what Darius meant in terms of how he could use him. Affecting the emotions of others at will, sometimes even being able to read their minds and speak to them without words would, to Stefan, only be an extremely useful weapon.
As if by thinking of him Faye had summoned him to her, Stefan appeared at the open double doors into the garden, back from his trip. She felt a chill like the sun had gone behind a cloud, though the sky was its usual clear, rosy blue. None of the children had noticed their father. They continued to play, and Parthenia continued to praise and stroke her tarsul to reward it for bringing her a fruit.
Stefan saw Faye watching him. He gave her a sarcastic nod and moved from his position of leaning against the door frame to walk toward his eldest child. She had crouched down to pat the tarsul. Stefan stood over her, his hands on his hips.
“How is he doing?” he asked her. “You seem to be doing an excellent job of training him. What did you name him?”
Parthenia said a name Faye didn’t catch and stood up, brushing dust from her pants.
“It isn’t as pretty as your name, my dear,” Stefan said, “but I like it. What does it mean?”
Parthenia smiled in response to her father’s compliment. “It doesn’t mean anything. I made it up.”
“Oh, well, it suits him. What have you taught him to do?”
She instructed the animal to perform various tricks, including standing on its head, playing dead, and walking only on its hind legs. Finally, she made it go and pick a fruit for her father, which it presented on open palms with a bow.
“Wonderful,” Stefan said, laughing as he took the offered fruit. “What a clever animal, and what a clever mistress to train it so well.”
“Thank you, Father,’ Parthenia said.
Faye grimaced at the grateful tone in her daughter’s voice.
“What’s wrong, Mother?” Darius asked. He was lying on his stomach with his arm in the pond, trying to catch a fish. His dark brown hair had flopped over his face and his cheeks were flushed.
“It isn’t anything important,” she replied. “Have you caught a fish yet? Remember to be gentle if you do.”
“Oh, I’m always gentle. I don’t want to make them feel bad, because then I feel bad too.”
Faye looked down on her youngest child. His ability was growing stronger by the day. She would have to prevent Stefan from finding out the truth about his six-year-old son.
Though she’d discovered a firestone in the garden, she hadn’t been able to collect it. Stefan had ordered the servants to watch her around the clock. Her maid even stayed with her when she bathed. If only she was able to make her own elixir. She could Locate and Send to Carina and perhaps she could even Cast to effect an escape for her children and herself. She wasn’t sure how they would survive outside the estate’s walls and avoid detection by the Sherrerrs, but perhaps they could do it.
If she couldn’t Cast, her only hope lay in the other ruse she’d planned. The symptoms of her disease were growing more pronounced. Perhaps in only another few weeks she would be so sick she would have to travel to the capital for emergency treatment. There, surely the greater freedom would give her more opportunities to escape. In the capital they would stand a better chance of getting off the planet.
She would have to allow herself to become seriously ill to do it, but it was a risk she was willing to take.
Faye had been watching Parthenia and Stefan as she weighed her options, then her husband did something that snapped her to attention. He put his hands on the waist of his adolescent daughter and regarded her figure.
“You’re filling out most pleasantly, Parthenia. Becoming a young woman. We must see about getting you some new clothes more suitable for you. Some dresses and things not quite so childish. Would you like that?”
Parthenia was blushing. She looked uncomfortable and a little afraid. “Yes, Father, I would.”
“There’s my good girl. Perhaps you and your mother can go on a little shopping trip, as mothers and daughters do. Pick out some cloth and have a dressmaker sew you the latest fashions. But you must promise me you won’t go flirting with anyone while you’re in town. That wouldn’t be at all becoming, would it? You mustn’t forget that you’ll always be my little girl.”
He pulled her close and planted a kiss on Parthenia’s cheek. It wasn’t the fond peck of a father to his child. Stefan pressed his lips closely against her soft skin and took his time.
Faye stared in disbelief. Stefan’s eyes were closed, but then he opened them and, turning, gazed directly into hers, giving her a broad wink.
“Mother,” Darius said, “what’s wrong?”
Chapter Fifteen
As Faye prepared to go into town with Parthenia, her mood was low. She couldn’t shake the image of her horror of a husband giving her daughter that intimate, inappropriate kiss. His shameless wink had seemed to convey only one message, and it was one Faye could hardly bear to contemplate.
Stefan had commented recently that her childbearing days seemed to be over. She knew how little he truly loved the mage children she had provided him, while at the same time he wanted more due to the power they gave him and his clan. Now that she’d borne him all the offspring she could, was it possible that he planned on committing incest with his daughter? Faye’s stomach turned at the thought. She hadn’t been able to eat since the previous day.
Parthenia came down the stairs in the hall of the grand mansion, buttoning her coat. What Stefan had said was true, she was growing into a young woman. She was a head taller than Faye and she’d lost her coltish figure over the recent few months.
She seemed calm and collected, as if she had forgotten or gotten over the embarrassment and confusion her father’s embrace had caused. She gave Faye a quick smile as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Faye couldn’t remember when it had occurred, but at some point in her adolescence, Parthenia’s attitude toward her had changed. She’d become distant and reserved. Faye had never figured out if it was because she saw her as competition for her father’s affection, or if it was only a natural consequence of her growing up.
Some days, when the ache for the loss of Carina was particularly bad, she would imagine that her first daughter wouldn’t have been the same way. Then she would feel guilty and resolve to never again compare her children’s displays of affection.
They went out together and climbed into the smaller, four-seater Sherrerr autocar. Two servants sat in the front. Nate was their chauffeur as usual, and another servant called William had come along. Both servants were Faye and Parthenia’s guards and captors.
