by LJ Swallow
A sharp spike of anger joins the fear. This is why.
“Cora, stop staring at the table and change. Wear something... attractive. I asked your mother to pick out suitable clothes”
As I walk upstairs, I swallow the sickness back into my stomach. I will not be toyed with by the pair. Why would Mattias invite me if he told me to stay away last night? Which leaves one answer: this is Alaric's request.
A short dress is lain out on my tidy bed, a deep green colour to complement my green eyes, a length to show most of my legs. Something attractive. Alluring. Sexy. Uh. I don't think so. I leave the offending item and pull out a pair of jeans and a baggy black top. To compromise, I drop my thick brown hair from the usual ponytail, smudge on lip gloss, and half-heartedly apply mascara in two thick strokes. I rub the stray black marks from my cheek. Yeah, hardly a suitable Regent Queen.
The maid knocks on my door and calls out, offering help to prepare me for the day, but I refuse. If she sees what I'm wearing, she'll go straight to my father and the arguments will begin.
“Cora!” My mum's voice calls upstairs, an excited squeak in her voice I haven't heard since she was selected as leader of the local fundraising group. They band together to raise money for the sector orphans—orphans created by somebody or something that's part of the Enclave. Hypocrites.
I peer out of the window, to the driveway bordered by roses, where an unfamiliar black car is parked. Why do I feel as if I'm walking into a lion's den?
As I climb out of the car, I twist my head around to capture the view across the sector. I barely get a glimpse of the rows of houses or what lies in the background before I'm ushered along the wide path and through the double doors. The middle-aged, tired driver doesn't speak and begins to back out the door as quickly as he can.
I understand why.
Alaric stands directly opposite the doorway, a sour look on his face. He makes a show of looking at his watch, and the driver mumbles his apologies as he continues reversing his backside out.
A huge chandelier drips crystal from the ceiling, the dark panelled walls arching above and around us, darkening the room. Behind, a wide staircase circles upwards. Where I stand, the painted black eye of the Hyland crest watches and I hastily sidestep the imagined scrutiny. The warmth of the day is already replaced with what lies in the shadows.
Alaric's expression pulls further into consternation as he studies my appearance. Unfazed, I return the scrutiny. He wears a black shirt, stretched across the chest and defining his lithe body. He's not as solidly built as Mattias, but his wiry frame is deceptively muscular. I don't doubt his strength, nor do I want to experience it.
He flicks his fingers against the large silver band on his middle left finger, then gestures at me.
“You lied to me about the witch boy.”
“Hello, Alaric.”
He scoffs. “Sir.”
Seriously? He's the same bloody age as me. I refuse to give the response he waits for.
A small woman, around my age with plaited blonde hair, stands close by. Alaric clicks his fingers over his shoulder, eyes remaining on me.
Alaric turns. “Don't just stand there. My guest needs a drink. Now. We'll be upstairs in the observatory.”
“Yes sir.” She curtseys low enough that I think her backside will hit the floor. God forbid she brings him the wrong drink.
“And if you see my waste of space brother, tell him to find us. Do you know where he is?”
Alaric snaps the words as if this poor woman is involved with Mattias in a nefarious plan.
Only me.
Only Alaric.
Crap.
“Yes, sir. No, I don't, sir,” replies the maid in a meek voice.
“Yes, sir, no, sir,” he mimics. Alaric straightens and frowns at my arms wrapped around my body. “Are you cold?”
“No.” I drop my shaking hands into my pockets.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“Liar.” He steps forward. “I won't touch you without your permission.”
Ugh. Ugh. I stare at the ground hoping to hell he doesn't elaborate. “Okay.”
“Let me show you the world in a way you've never seen, Cora. I think you need to see. I feel I need a proper talk with you.” Alaric walks toward the central staircase that sweeps down onto the black marble floor where we stand.
Like a lost puppy, I follow him. The runes on the magical barrier outside are duplicated along the walls in different sizes and shapes. The last Regent wife's taste left a lot to be desired as the gaudy gold furnishings attempt to invoke a vibe of past gentry, the humans who once lived here.
I'm unsure how much has changed since this house was taken over by the Hylands hundreds of years ago. This belonged to a different kind of human royalty. Their aristocratic bloodline is possibly mixed into the stagnant human pool now, their legacy replaced. Regent portraits line the walls, amongst disturbing artwork depicting violent scenes. I catch sight of inhuman creatures murdering people. Blood. Death.
Whoa.
We head higher, circling up a black iron staircase, and at the top, Alaric halts in front of a door and pulls both handles down. The doors open outwards into a vast, glass room. There are no solid walls, every vista through shining glass. I step in, glad of the floor beneath my feet; otherwise, I'd feel I was balancing on the sky.
The world surrounds us through the glass but Alaric's right—this isn't a world I've ever seen. No house rests as high in the sector as this one, nobody can see above the wall holding out the ravagers. From here, I can see the dotted collections of buildings representing villages and towns in the sector and the grey roads between.
Beyond the shimmering purple walls lies ravager habitat—the Wastelands—and the sight stuns me. This world is bright green, like the cultivated areas of the Enclave, and stretches far into the distance. The Old World wasteland spoken about appears nothing like the devastated, grey nightmare the witches stepped in and rescued humans from, but more like the place in the books I read.
“Say something,” says Alaric.
“I don't know what to say.”
“Incredible view, no?”
“Yes. The Wasteland. It's... not what I expected. It doesn't look any different to the sector.”
I indicate distant criss-crossing fields in bright green and browns.
Alaric steps in front of me with his hands in his pockets. “Everybody knows how beautiful things are deceptive. Amongst the beauty lies treachery, always. You must know that.”
“That’s an odd thing to say. Why would I?”
“Girls at school, the pretty ones, they're the girls with the darkest hearts, aren't they?”
“Oh. Some.” I clear my throat. Subject change. Now. “Do you know what's out there in the Wastelands?”
“Death.” He fixes hard eyes on mine. One word. One threat.
I turn in a small circle, dizzied by the view. The highest I've stood before is in a third storey window, and this is stomach churning, at least six stories high. The sector wall stands uniform, the strength of the magic radiating and preventing anything approaching. I know that, past rebellions have attempted to locate a weak spot. They failed. They always fail.
Alaric crosses to sit on a sofa and stretches his legs out along the damask fabric, one arm across the back. “Were you aware some Senate members don't want me as Regent?”
“Uh. Not really.”
“You don't lie very well, do you? Everybody knows there's a movement to replace me with my dumb brother instead. They can fucking try, but it won't happen.”
I blink at his language. “I'm sure the Senate understand you're the chosen heir.”
He laughs. “The Senate are a little divided on my new position as Regent. The last meeting was... quite heated, actually. People can be very passionate about their views. Your father is a good man, though. I need more people like him around me.”
“But you are the Regent. What can they do?”
“My bro
ther acquiesced, yes.” He grins. “Now I’m Regent, and lessons will be learned, Cora.” I stare, lost over what to say to him. “But lucky you, the Senate will soon take a break, and you'll have free time to do as you please before you're married.”
“The Senate are taking a break?” This has never happened, not in several hundred years.
Alaric puffs air into his cheeks and gestures as if trying to snatch the right words. “There're strange things happening, and I'm giving every man a chance to prove his loyalty to me. To the Othala rule.”
“Maybe it's time to look beyond strong-handed rule?” I suggest.
His face darkens, and he stands suddenly before crossing to the window. “All this. The humans. They take up too much space and do what? Live stupid lives with nothing. We don't need many in the sector to serve us, we need their numbers reducing.”
“They're not cattle.”
“Aren't they?”
The door opens and the nervous looking girl from before enters. “What?” he snaps.
“Your drinks, sir.”
Alaric nods his head to indicate she should place the tray containing a carafe of juice and a couple of glasses on the table. As she places them, her white shirtsleeves ride up, revealing a circle of purple and blue bruises across both wrists.
She pulls the cuffs down but not before Alaric notices. Her fear of him is palpable, hands shaking as she takes tiny steps backwards. She stiffens further as Alaric moves across the room. He twists an escaped strand of her blonde hair tightly around his finger until the lack of blood turns his finger white. As he leans in to whisper something, the girl's eyes remain on the ground, but her chest rises and falls harder.
Alaric waves her away with a hand. I watch as the girl walks tall from the room, and Alaric looks back at me.
“You'd think they'd be grateful; the girls who have the honour of serving the Hylands.”
“You seem quite demanding,” I reply, unable to hold back my opinion. “You're rude to them.”
“Only if they piss me off. She needs to learn how to behave. How to serve properly.”
I curl a hand around my wrist, disgusted by his emphasis on the word serve, and Alaric's mouth twitches when he notices. His lack of explanation scares me as much as my imagination over what happened to her.
“They're not worth much, are they?” he asks, returning to his seat. “We were too benevolent in the beginning, allowing them in here.”
“We need humans.” I swallow. “We coexist. Their presence powers our magic.”
“Yes, but no. We started with a small, select group of humans when we formed the sector. Now there're hundreds, overrunning the place like rats, and harder to control as the years pass. I have my own plans for the future, plans that don't involve a watered-down Sector where humans have growing delusions of equality. I'm removing the human Senate members.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“Why not? Everybody else will know soon. I thought it might be of special interest to you.”
I tense, ready for some of the magic he talks about to overwhelm me. The longer we stand like this, the harder my pulse beats, and the greater my refusal to break eye contact and show fear. Terrified he's delving into my thoughts, I concentrate on blanking my mind. The problem is, as soon as I do, images I've never seen flicker through.
I don't catch anything past dark snapshots of pain, screaming, and terror. Girls. Edging them all is male pleasure at the suffering and growing screams. I fight against holding my hands over my ears, but know the sound is in my head. Alaric's not dragging my thoughts out. I'm seeing his.
I pull away, snapping the horror out of my mind as the emotion drops to disgust. The cruel curve to Alaric's mouth grows into a knowing smile. “Are you okay, Cora?”
What frightens me the most as he continues speaking is whether I saw his plans or events that already happened.
12
Every time I'm positive Alaric will touch me, he doesn't. With his hands off me for the day, my panic level lowers, but the disturbing images I swear came from his mind keep flashing across mine.
I sit at the long table in the dining room and stare at the window. I'm alone for the first time since I arrived earlier. The sun sets, throwing orange rays across the room and picking out more of the tacky gold fixtures. The high ceiling is painted with a mural—heroes fighting monsters, but I can't pick out who's winning, or what the monsters are. These are wolf like creatures, half human, battling humans, and white-faced creatures with animal teeth.
Blood. This house is obsessed by blood.
The table is set for three people. Me, Alaric and... please let the third be Mattias. I rub my nose with the back of my hand and keep one eye on the door. If I knew where to find the front doors, I'd leave, but the number of hallways and rooms in this home disorientates me.
“It would've been better if you'd dressed for dinner.” Alaric walks in and brushes the front of his smart black shirt. “I'd offer you something but the only women's clothes I have are my dead mother's, and I don't suppose you want to wear a dead woman's clothes.”
How can he say that deadpan? “No.”
“She died after giving birth to me. Somehow survived long enough to bear me, a second child, after Mattias, which is lucky for the sector. Shame I never knew her. Ty remembers her. He has a picture somewhere. His sentimentality is pathetic.” Alaric strides to the tall-backed chair opposite and drags it out. He sits and picks up the full wine bottle on the table and studies the label.
The longer I'm away from my life in this weird time capsule, the harder I find holding onto the Cora who I'm creating to leave the Enclave. I don't like this meek, nervous one.
“Is it just you and me for dinner?” I ask.
“Mattias.”
“Mattias is joining us?” I ask.
“Why? Do you prefer his company to mine?”
“No!” His brow lifts at the suddenness of my response. “No. I mean, I don't mind really.”
“What's the story with you and Ty?” He sneers his brother's nickname.
“No story.”
“But you've fucked him, right?” he shakes out his napkin and places it on his lap. “He usually goes elsewhere. Prefers sector girls, which I presume is why he likes you.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“You're not very refined.”
Alaric picks up a silver knife from the place setting and twirls it in his hands.
“But I didn't...” I trail off as Alaric's expression changes.
“No? That opens up a world of possibilities, doesn't it Scion?”
Wrong answer.
Very wrong answer.
“So, Mattias is joining us for dinner?” I ask attempting a light tone.
“If he's home. He's a moody bastard. He pisses off on his own a lot. Strange don't you think? I wonder where he goes.” The knife sticks into the table as he jams the metal into the wood. He lifts the wine bottle instead. “Do you like wine?”
Temptation fights with common sense. “No, thanks.”
“Where did you meet him?”
I blink at his thrown in question. Alaric's constant toying with me grates because I'm unable to respond in kind. The bravado I keep around the brothers left somewhere between his angry display and the sight of the bruises wrapped around the servant girl's wrists. Each passing hour I'm more exhausted and desperate to leave. I want to go home but another part of my mind forms escape plans—escape from the Enclave.
“I met Mattias at the first Gathering. We bumped into each other outside. A bit of a silly story, really....”
“Ha. Liar. We didn't meet anybody outside. I've seen you together a few times now. You looked very cosy last night, very natural dance partners and then sneaking off into the dark...” He tuts.
In the dark? Oh, no... “Last night?”
“For somebody you told me you have no connection to, you looked quite connected to him hidden away there.”
I drop my gaze to the table and toy with the cutlery next to my plate. “I was drunk.”
“Bad boy, taking advantage like that when I was a perfect gentleman to you. Is he the kind of man you prefer?”
“No, it's not like that...” I trail off as I meet his unfriendly, darkened face. The room cools as Alaric withdraws the warmth from his voice. “I have questions for you, Cora Karran,” he says in a low voice. “About Ty. And you will answer them.”
“I've changed my mind, I'd like some wine.” I push my empty glass over and he pours. “Is Mattias arriving soon? Maybe we should straighten this out together.”
Alaric pours. “Do you know what my brother does when he's not at the Hyland Estate? Is that how you met him?”
“Uh. No.”
“Then how?”
I drain the wine glass and stand. “Maybe I should go home.”
He stands too. “You don't leave. You stay for dinner. You stay as long as I want you here.”
“Or you’ll do what?” The words drop from my lips before I stop them. I've kept my temper around this arrogant man, but it won't stay contained.
Neither will his. The aristocratic pretence drops and I stumble backwards as Alaric seizes my chin. “Tell me what the fuck is between you and my brother.”
“Nothing.” He grips my chin harder and backs me up. I hit the wall. “I met him once before I knew who he was. In a bar.”
“What bar?”
“In the sector.”
“You're lying.” His breath heats my cheek. “I saw you the first night, with my brother discussing something. Then last night kissing and whatever the hell else he was doing to you. Today I had to... deal with some Senate issues, which disturbed my Sunday plans. Inconvenient but a coincidence?”
Issues? “I hardly know anything about how the Senate operates, I told you.”
“You work there. Do you know who's against me?” The increasing growl to his voice ramps up my fear I'll say the wrong thing.
