Parallel (Mortisalian Saga Book 1)

by L. J. Stock

  “Marrying...” I trailed off, my head snapping up so our eyes met and held. I needed him to see how I felt about that accusation, for him to see that it was as much of a surprise to me as it was to him. “So that's what all those stares were about. That's why everyone was so desperate to get me down here?”

  “You didn't know?”

  I laughed, the sound hysterical and foreign to my ears even as I leaned forward to rest my forehead on his shoulder. I was confused and there was a stirring in my chest that I attributed to anger. The baron wanted to marry me? It seemed a little too ironic considering I had just made up my mind not to pursue the prophecy with him. I had decided to take my mother’s advice after all.

  “Know? Not at all.”

  “But your father... The palace has been put on standby for the announcement.”

  “Excuse me?” I pushed past him, my anger lending me the strength to move his formidable structure from my path. There was no lingering to wait to see what he would do or say at my sudden movement. The anger in my chest started to rise at an alarming rate, my fists balling at my sides as I marched to my final destination. If I hadn't been wearing the stupid shoes they'd put me in, I would have been sprinting.

  “Cass, what are you doing?”

  “I'm taking back my life.”

  “Gods. You're doing this now? This is not the right way to go about this.”

  I skidded to a halt, my feet almost coming out from under me as I turned to face Damon. My skirts wrapped around my legs in a wave of satin before falling back into place as he almost walked into my still form.

  “Not the right way? Damon, this is the only way. I don't want this. I’ve never wanted this. Guilt and duty drove me to promise to try, but I refuse to live my life in misery because of a prophecy.” I threw my arms up in the air, the words feeling better as I released them. “Do you honestly think I would fight to live if I was miserable?”

  “Your child would be enough–”

  “Would it?” I demanded, tears welling in my eyes. “Would my child be enough to make me fight to live when I knew I would be unhappy with its father for the rest of my life if I managed to survive? Can you honestly say your love would be that unconditional if you were in my position?”

  I was more than aware that my emotions were getting the best of me. I could handle anyone else questioning my future, but from Damon, it was intrinsically wrong. He knew how I felt about him. I’d been more than forthcoming about my feelings. It was just unfortunate for him that I trusted him enough to let go of the ball of fury that was aglow in the center of my chest. He got the ugly truth.

  “I hate thinking that I would be willing to give up, even with a child of my own. I just can't get past the thought of being with a man I have nothing with but a good conversation once every blue moon. He's vapid and arrogant, and he may think I don't see it, but it's obvious he wants the title more than he wants me. The thought of him touching me like that–”

  “Stop!” He growled, but I was on a roll, my voice continuing on with the nauseating train of thought.

  “–It makes my skin crawl. How am I supposed to have a child with a man who makes me feel that way?”

  I headed down the corridor once again, ignoring Damon calling my name. I understood he wanted me to stop. As impassioned as I was, I could say the wrong thing and we both knew it. Thankfully, I didn't have to think on my response for much longer. I took the corner and almost ran into the baron, who was pacing the corridor. Just seeing his face sent another wave of pure anger through me.

  “Princess Cassandra.”

  I pushed past him with skirts in hand, marching in time with the staccato beat of my heart, the clip of the heels playing the clamorous sound as it resounded from the stone walls. I knew it wasn't necessarily the baron's fault. I knew that all my anger had the crosshairs circling the wrong target, but I couldn't stop myself. The tight grip on my upper arm was a surprise, and without thinking, I brought my fist around in an effort to protect myself, my instincts overriding logic as I pushed the warm body against the wall.

  “Easy, Princess. It's just me.” The baron laughed in good humor, brushing off his dress jacket as I stumbled away from him.

  Reaching out a hand to steady myself on the wall, I caught sight of the reason the baron had been so familiar to me that first night. It should have been the last thing in my line of sight in that moment, but there it was, and it might as well have been lit up like a neon sign. The tapestry behind him was the one of me winning the battle against Thánatos. The very tapestry with my husband and child in the background portrayed as my strength, the husband who, very suspiciously, looked like the man standing in front of me.

  My body moved long before my head caught up with it. My hand pulled the baron’s sword from its scabbard, and the tapestry was shredding around me like a rain of thread when I dimly heard the shouts of Damon and the other guard. Rage rushed through my veins, my pounding heart pumping it with a vengeance as the material slowly disappeared into scraps at my feet.

  The moment I realized what I was doing, consciousness and horror took over. The sword I had been holding dropped with a clamor to the stone floor, the metallic ringing echoing in my ears as it bounced to a halt at my feet. My hands trembled as I stumbled away from the mess and the horror in the baron’s eyes at my sudden irrational behavior. I had shamed my father and myself. In losing my temper, I had managed to destroy everything I’d built since I’d found my place in this world. Bile bubbled in my stomach as I tried to make sense of the mess at my feet. What had I done?

  “What in the underworlds is going on here?”

  My father’s voice was ice-cold. It was the edge of a razor that cut through the last of my anger as I slid down the wall. Guilt and embarrassment plagued me as I buried my head in the material that covered my knees.

  Communication

  The deep baritone of my father’s voice made a ringing silence roll through the corridor. No one moved – I don’t even think they took a breath. With my panic, everything I had sensed around me just faded away until I felt more alone than I had in a long time.

  The seconds between my father’s first sentence and the next began to drag out, leaving my head to think up the worst punishments possible. I'd always had a temper when I was pushed beyond a certain point, but I was more than adept at keeping it boxed up. I’d had to when I was living in Robert’s house, under his rules. There was always a part of me that knew he wouldn’t hesitate in using it against me. Unfortunately, this situation, and my choices being taken from me, coalesced with everything else piling up, and it had just culminated until I’d snapped like a rubber band stretched to its limits. It was amazing what exhaustion paired with pure rage was capable of. I wasn't certain that I'd even made the conscious decision to grab the sword.

  “Damon, clear the hall. I want everyone out of hearing range. Now.”

  “Your majesty–” It wasn't Damon who was contradicting the king. He never would have done that. He respected him too much as a man and as my father to ever overstep that boundary. No, it wasn’t Damon. It was the baron. His voice was filled with questions and snooty arrogance as he stepped forward. When my head rose inches from my knees, I was surprised to see him facing off with my father, toe to toe, the guards all buzzing around like angry bees, held at bay only by the king’s raised hand.

  I stared at the two of them, completely unable to command my body to move. No matter how rampant the need to protect my father ran through my veins, my weighted limbs were frozen in place. With everything that had gone on, it was a wonder I was still conscious.

  “You may want to rethink your actions here, Baron. My men have not ripped you apart because I have not allowed them to. If you lean so much as an inch closer, I will put you on trial for treason.”

  The baron stepped back sheepishly, his eyes hitting each of the agitated guards separately before he gathered himself and squared off his shoulders. His hands met and gathered at the small of his back as h
e reigned in his own composure. He glanced at me briefly before turning his head to the king once more, and I felt my skin crawl. He obviously thought there was an announcement to be made. There was an air of importance lingering around him.

  “Sire, my apologies. I was merely stating that I have a right to be here.”

  “Baron Sideris, you are the last person who needs to be here, let alone someone with that right.” My father gestured around himself where the threads of the tapestry were scattered. I cringed as the point was made, my guilt surging once again. “It is up to me alone to decide who has the right to be anywhere in my home. Now leave. Before I have you forcefully removed.”

  Baron Sideris didn't have much of an opportunity to respond. One gesture of my father’s hand and two guards were flanking him and marching him toward the guest waiting room at the end of the corridor closest to the Great Hall. Alec and Damon hung back for only a second before my father’s nod sent them off in the same direction, both of them looking nervous as they glanced over their shoulders before disappearing around a corner.

  It was an odd sensation to be alone with anyone in this dimension. More to the point, it felt strange to be alone with the king. Since I'd known him, there'd been only one occasion on which I belived he and I had been on our own. That was the night he'd confessed he was my biological father. Since then, there'd always been at least one guard present. Even hidden I was always aware of their presence.

  I watched him pace for a while, kicking the scraps of material around the stone floor, which only made my anxiety rise with every pass he made in front of me. His shoulders were back and stiff in their regal frame, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as his head hung, watching the strips of material and threads move under his tread. I grew more concerned with each of his turns. Unable to read his expression, I wasn't sure what to expect. He took a deep breath before he paused and looked over to me. For a second, I thought I was imagining things. I was almost certain he was…

  Laughing.

  He was… He was laughing.

  I looked up quizzically, pulling my legs closer to my chest as I watched him, my heart lodged firmly in my throat. My hands were trembling and I was forced to ball them to hide the reaction as I took in his emotion. Even though the laughter was genuine, I couldn't help feeling that the other shoe was about to drop, that it would fade and be replaced by an anger even I couldn't escape. The paranoid child buried deep inside of me was terrified he'd wipe his hands of me completely – that he would think I wasn't worth the trouble I was causing.

  Apparently, fear of rejection came with the very unstable territory of my childhood.

  My father’s laughter died slowly, his eyes regarding me closely as he sobered. I didn’t know what he saw in my gaze, but he approached carefully, as though he were approaching a wild animal, and eventually, after a few moments of internal debate, slid down the wall beside me. His long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. He turned to look at me, concern etched into his features. With an ease I hadn’t realized we had reached, he pulled me against him and kissed my forehead.

  “I’ve always hated that stupid thing.” I swallowed my surprise at his comment. He hadn't told me that the first time I'd seen it.

  “I'm so sorry,” I whispered, feeling exhausted and sore. My finger, which was mostly healed, had taken a battering when I’d swiped at the tapestry.

  “Don't be. I think I'd pull a sword if I thought I was promised to the baron.”

  My mouth fell open at his chuckle and I pulled away so I could find his eyes. There was nothing but mirth in his glance. He reached forward and cupped my cheek in the most paternal gesture he'd ever displayed, his thumb rubbing under my eyes at the bags I knew resided there.

  “Cass, I never wanted any of this for you, and I certainly didn’t want to make you as miserable as you have been. It took me a while to see the obvious, but you’ve been so unhappy it’s been making you sick.”

  “If you didn’t want this for me, why–”

  “Because if we didn't try, the advisors would always wonder. It's very clear you and the baron are far from compatible, and he's been driving us all crazy with his constant visits and less than savory advice. The man is, in a word, an idiot.”

  “It was all for nothing then?” I whispered, trying to slide away from him as the pain welled inside of me. I'd put myself through hell trying to stay away from Damon. I'd made myself miserable trying to love someone I could hardly spend the day with. I'd lost days of sleep, I hadn't eaten, and all for nothing. Just to be told, in the end, that it was obvious we weren't compatible. I would have said finding that others disliked him was a shock, but I'd figured that out a while back. Rasmus was one of the easiest people to get along with and he couldn't stand to be around the baron either.

  “Not for nothing, Cassandra. We know for certain he's not the one in the prophecy, and I now get to tell the old fools to shut up and let you do this your way.” He placed his forehead against mine and took a deep breath. “They think they know best, but half of them don't have children, and the others who do are all for forcing their children into a union. Yes, it's archaic, but I had to show them they were wrong. If I didn't, they would always wonder, always push, and should something have happened, they would have laid that at your feet. I couldn't have that for you.”

  As much as I understood what he was saying, I was still suffering from the ailments that decision had caused me. It hadn't just been a test for me. I had thrown my all into the situation. I'd made an effort to forget the man I loved for a man I was supposedly “destined” to be with, thinking I'd had no other choice.

  “How could you do that to me? How could you make me think I had no choice? I'm in love with someone else, and I've been miserable. Do you think this has been easy for me in any way at all?”

  The smile dropped from my father’s face, the mirth replaced by a shadow of something I hadn't seen aimed at me before. I'd just hurt him by confessing I'd omitted a huge truth from him. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. I wanted to bang my head against the wall. I'd endangered Damon and hurt my father all because I was an emotional wreck. I needed to learn to put a leash on my emotions and think before I spoke.

  “I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you. I still can't. I just wish I'd known…” I shut myself up, knowing that I was helping nothing as I babbled aimlessly. If I kept going, I'd give something away and I couldn't afford to do that. Not now.

  “You're not going to tell me who, are you?”

  “No. I can't. Not because I don't want to, but because I don't know what it means, because I know it can't… It can't go anywhere if I want to live out the prophecy.”

  My father smoothed my hair back from my face, sadness taking the place of the hurt as he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “I would spare you this if I could.”

  “I know you would.”

  Throwing my arms around him, I sniffled, the bite of tears making my eyes itch. I didn't want to cry. I was being released from this contemptible situation. I should have been happy at the easy exit I was being offered, but all I felt was empty. I still couldn't have the man I loved. Even when he was the only thing I wanted.

  “I will go, with great joy and let the baron know he is no longer required at the palace. I'm sure he will be happy to go back to neglecting his responsibilities.”

  “Maybe I should do it? I think I scared him. At the very least I owe him an apology.”

  “You owe him nothing. Go to the farmhouse and relax. I will take care of this for you. The baron doesn't take the word no well in any situation. Considering he asked for your hand in marriage this morning, this should be quite interesting.”

  My blood ran cold at the thought of disappointing my father, even though he had released me from my obligation with the baron. “I… Did you? Did he? Am I…?”

  “No.” My father laughed. “I told him it was your decision to make, and you just made it.”

  I hugged him tighter. He
would never know how much that meant to me. The fact that he was giving me a choice was more than I could have ever hoped for. I knew I would disappoint Alec, as well as a few others who were hoping the match had been made for the good of the people. Unfortunately, my mother had been right. I could never have lived with that decision or the man, and bringing a child into that situation would have been out of the question.

  There was so much I didn't know about this prophecy, and the role I played in it. I wasn't even sure how I was supposed to defeat this monster. All I knew was that I was in love with a man I could never have. If the previous weeks had taught me anything it was that it would never change, that there would always be a part of me that loved Damon more than I valued my own life.

  “Cassandra, go and sleep.”

  Surprised, I looked over at him, my eyebrows raised. There were things people noticed about me, and things they didn't. For the most part, the majority of people hadn't noticed that my sleep patterns were off, or that my plate only had a few bites missing. The last person I figured would notice was my father. Not because he didn't care, but because he was constantly busy.

  “How did you know?”

  “I just have to look at you to know. You're my daughter. That light in your eyes I love so much has gradually faded over the last few weeks.”

  “Thank you. For noticing, I mean… and for caring.”

  He simply nodded and rose from the floor, pulling me against him for another hug before he walked us in the direction in which the entourage had disappeared. I looked over his shoulder at the scraps piled across the corridor and shook my head, disappointment in my behavior flooding me.

  “I'll have someone clear it. Don't waste another thought on it.”

  It was easier said than done, but I appreciated the sentiment. He was reassuring me the only way he knew how. He was being the father Robert had never been in the twenty-four years he’d filled the position, and that comprehension only seemed to make me want to cry all the more as we walked in silence.