The Heartwood Box: A Fairy Tale

by Lilia Ford

  “I was afraid there might be jealousy,” Genevieve said. “Damian said it was a great dishonor, but I told him, you can’t always control feelings like that, no matter how much you wish you could.”

  Declan looked surprised. “That was extremely astute. Genevieve, I will speak frankly. Derek is able to give you something that Damian can’t—do you understand what I am speaking of?”

  She wanted to sink into the ground—Derek had given her pain. What kind of person was she?

  “Genevieve! I am well aware that most people are taught to view such desires as shameful. Within our family that is not the case. They are accepted and acknowledged. They are never viewed as subjects of right and wrong, but of need and desire. Insofar as Damian’s anger led you to regard those desires as shameful, he committed a grave wrong by the principles of this family.”

  He spoke so fiercely Genevieve couldn’t doubt him. “I don’t want you to be angry at him,” she said softly.

  “Daughter,” he said in his gentlest tone, “I promise that my anger against Damian will end the moment I am convinced you no longer blame yourself.”

  Genevieve almost growled—how could he say such a thing! She felt… angry at Declan. There was a wrongness to his words that made her feel bitter and hateful. He was watching her closely. Perhaps it was for the best. He would realize now that he’d brought a demon into his midst. But then he took her hand in his. “I see you will not make this easy for me. Genevieve, in truth there is one part of your conduct that concerns me very much.”

  Fear quickly eclipsed every other feeling. Genevieve swallowed, suddenly worried she might faint.

  “Genevieve!” he said firmly. “I am not angry at all, I am concerned. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, trying to breathe.

  “I am concerned that you did not tell Derek to stop.”

  “It wasn’t Derek’s fault!” she cried defensively. “He would have stopped if I told him to!”

  “Shhh, little one. I know that. Genevieve, I wish to show you something.” He held out a bunch of bristles bound together with a leather-covered handle. She could feel sweat beading on her upper lip. It looked innocuous, almost like a short broom, but some part of her recognized that it wasn’t innocuous at all.

  “It is a scourge. It is used to punish the worst criminals—oath-breakers, traitors, rapists. As you see, the bristles bear sharpened spikes. If it is applied with even minimum force, it flays the skin.”

  She shuddered—it was gruesome.

  “Genevieve, have you ever known anyone who deserved to be punished like that?”

  “No!”

  “If your friend Sally or some other village girl were to commit adultery, would you argue that she should be tied to a post and punished with this?”

  “Of course not!”

  “What if she were crushed by guilt and begged for the punishment? What would you say to it?”

  “No! We don’t stand by and do nothing when people try to take their own lives—it’s no different.”

  “Genevieve, two nights ago when we returned, I found this inside your heartwood box.”

  The world suddenly turned upside down. Her vision went dark as she struggled to get air into her lungs. The sharp, caustic scent of sal volatile in her nose made her jerk her head up, but she felt as if all the strength had left her body. A cup had somehow appeared in Declan’s hand—he held it to her lips and gently ordered her to drink. It was a ginger tisane. The sharp taste miraculously helped clear her head further and settled her stomach.

  When she had quieted, he said calmly, “I told you the day we met that you never need fear me, Genevieve. I would never raise my hand to you. Though I always try to respect the contents of the heartwood box, I must draw a line here. Such a punishment goes far beyond what is sane and healthy. Even if you had committed adultery a thousand times, it would be in gross excess.”

  She wanted to curl up into a ball, to dig a hole and bury herself in the ground, anything to hide from Declan’s gaze. What was wrong with her? She was a monster!

  “Genevieve! It is time you learned to battle this mode of thinking. Think, child! Use your reason. If Sally begged for such a punishment, would you despise her or would you feel compassion and try to help her see that she did not deserve anything so horrible? Why should I not feel that for you as well?”

  Perhaps because it was Declan, his words sank in. They were so sensible she must agree, no matter how much that voracious guilt within her wanted to scoff at them. It was far from defeated. A clamorous inner voice argued, “But that’s Sally, she deserves forgiveness.” But for the first time in years, that voice did not seem buttressed by all the powers of truth and goodness. The result was confusion, but in this case, confusion was infinitely preferable to certainty.

  “It’s hard for me,” she finally admitted.

  “Yes, but I hope with reflection you will be able to make some sense of this need for punishment and distinguish those ways it is safe to indulge and those that are clearly self-destructive.”

  “I’ll try,” she said but felt defeated. Just the thought that she should stop blaming herself so much raised an overpowering lash of guilt.

  “That’s all I ask. Genevieve, that still leaves what happened with Derek. I realize this is difficult, but I truly need to know how you feel about it. Are you angry? Do you feel my son mistreated you?”

  “No!” she protested, surprised at her own vehemence. “He didn’t—I told you, I know he would have stopped.”

  “Leaving aside everything to do with Damian, do you feel that things went too far?”

  She blushed sharply, but she felt like she owed Declan—and Derek—the truth. “No, I don’t,” she confessed. “With the scourge…. It wasn’t just the adultery. I know how much Damian cares about his brothers. I was sure I’d destroyed your family. What happened with Derek…. It’s not the same,” she finished lamely.

  Declan was thoughtful. “Your response is not quite what I imagined it would be, daughter. I still believe Derek should have stopped sooner. Whatever his instincts told him, caution was warranted. It was your first time together, as well as your first time engaging in such rough play—and he most definitely did not have Damian’s permission. Nonetheless, I am greatly relieved by what you’ve told me. I remain concerned about the feelings that prompted the scourge to appear in your box. I would like to suggest something, but I don’t wish to offend you or give you the impression I am trying to sway you. I would not be disappointed or displeased at all if you reject it.”

  “Yes, sir…. Please, I appreciate your scruples—if there is anything you think might help me, I want to hear it.”

  “I think Derek can provide you a safe outlet for these feelings before they progress to something more self-destructive.”

  “It doesn’t offend me at all, sir,” she said sincerely. “I greatly appreciate how frank you’ve been with me. I just don’t want to do anything that would hurt Damian.”

  “I know my sons, Genevieve. Damian will make peace with this. As I said before, within our family we firmly believe that there is nothing wrong or shameful about these needs. As long as sensible limits are observed, you and Derek should be able to explore this side of your desires. You understand why it must be with Derek?”

  She almost chuckled. She did understand. There was something dark and hungry in Derek that made him relish punishing her. Damian had the same look when she was chained to the bed, but never once had she felt that he craved hurting her.

  “What about Derek?” she asked.

  “What about him?”

  “Would it hurt him—to do that for me?”

  Declan looked awestruck. “Genevieve, what I would give for you to see yourself as I see you—you have a rare spirit. Your joining this family is the best thing that has ever happened to Derek. I would not suggest it if I thought it would hurt him—if only to protect you from further guilt. In fact, if it were kept within limits, it would satisf
y a strong need in him.”

  “Why—why does he want to hurt me? Is he angry that I’m here?”

  To her amazement, Declan looked almost abashed. “That is a complex question, one that I’ve never answered completely to my satisfaction. The best I can come up with is that there is a deep though dark kind of pleasure that comes from exercising complete dominion over another, challenging them to work through the pain to find the pleasure that hides behind it. I can say emphatically that such acts are not incompatible with deep affection and love. Some unfortunate people are driven to give pain from hatred of the object, but surely you can tell that Derek cares deeply for you. I suspect what happened between you was partly driven by his fear of how strong his feelings are, but the desire to punish and give pain has always been a part of Derek’s nature.”

  Genevieve knew her face was burning as Declan’s words reawakened those dark desires she’d first felt in the cave. “This… feeling inside, I used to think it was a demon. It was so ugly, and it made my parents so unhappy. But then with Derek—it was like he knew it was there, but it wasn’t ugly to him. He kept calling me angel—I could feel that I’d given him something… I could give him pleasure.”

  “If you hadn’t felt guilt towards Damian, then the experience would have fulfilled something for you?”

  Tears started streaming down her face. “It probably sounds foolish to you—I know he and I are so different, but the day I met him, I thought, Derek is like me. He can’t control his moods. He knows what it’s like to make the people he cares for unhappy.”

  “Not foolish at all. Does he make you unhappy, Genevieve? Would you be happier if Derek were not in your life?”

  “No!” She wanted to say that she loved him—she loved all of them, but she couldn’t stand being disloyal to Damian.

  “So perhaps the same is true of you,” he said softly. “Despite your troubles, your parents are deeply grateful that you are in their life.” She gave him a shaky nod. “I think you will find that all of my sons consider the troubles of the past few days a trivial price to pay for the blessing of having you in their life. So the question for you is: can you accept a life where you are intimate with all three of them?”

  She forced herself to suppress her embarrassment. That would be a poor return for the respect and sympathy Declan had shown her. “I care for them—I love them,” she answered. “I just don’t want to hurt Damian—or Derek or Donal.”

  Genevieve could not mistake the joy that lit up the Fae Prince’s otherworldly features. “I swear upon all that’s sacred that I would not counsel you to any course that would hurt you or my sons. And make no mistake: you are Damian’s wife. His brothers must defer to him and obey the rules he sets in the household. I do not expect you will try to undermine those rules, given how much you’ve suffered seeing the brothers in conflict.”

  “No!”

  “I would remind you that you too must set limits. It is my sons’ nature to try to dominate, but that does not mean you are obliged always to give way. In all marriages there are quarrels and misjudgments, and this is no different. Working through them requires patience and negotiation, but they are crucial if this arrangement is to work.”

  She smiled to herself, remembering her discussions with Damian. For the first time, she felt something like confidence, rather than a blind hope, that they would be able to talk things out and reconcile.

  “It is probably a good thing that you will have another day or so. Derek and Damian are proving stubborn as only two Black males can be. I advise you and Donal to treat this as a holiday and enjoy yourselves as much as possible before you must face those two more… demanding natures.”

  “Thank you, Declan, for everything,” she said kissing his cheek.

  “Finally, she begins to learn.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The field was littered with the bodies of demons and Reavers. They’d managed to cut off the retreating stragglers as they tried to regroup. Damian had lost track of how many he’d killed—for the first time in his life, he’d fought more brutally than Derek. He’d actually grabbed one poor sodding Reaver and crushed his neck with his bare hands until he practically ripped his head off. It was that or rip Derek’s head off. Derek had watched him warily but hadn’t said a word.

  At the end of the battle, Damian ordered their men to gather a huge pile of wood while the two of them silently dragged the bodies to the pyre. As the sun went down, they watched the flame consume them to ash.

  Damian was frantic to get home, but he could not even contemplate forgiving Derek while his brother refused to apologize. And since Derek had never in his life apologized for anything, he was trapped. Damian felt like he’d made a hundred thousand allowances for him their entire life, but this time Derek had gone too far. Every time he thought about Genevieve’s backside, the way she’d huddled miserably when she exited the cave, he wanted to roar with rage. And then there was the fact that Derek would have killed him if their situations had been reversed—and still, he’d not said a word to him!

  In the meantime, Genevieve was home, possibly suffering. Declan had worried she might harm herself! Damian needed to get back to her and reassure her. He’d never dreamt their sire could be guilty of injustice, but how else could he regard Declan’s decree? He’d set an impossible condition for their return and then given Genevieve, his wife, over to Donal.

  “Have you nothing to say to me?” he burst out, too incensed for once to abide by his resolution not to speak before Derek did.

  Derek looked at him stonily. “You know what happened—what more should I say?”

  “You sodding ass! How about, I apologize for belting your wife and then screwing her.”

  “I am not sorry for that—you ask me to lie,” Derek returned, actually looking offended that Damian would think he would.

  Damian couldn’t murder him. If he did, he could simply confide Genevieve to Donal’s life-long care. He knew his youngest brother’s powers of seduction and his taste. He wondered how long it would be before she was on her knees before him, while he sat here with Derek watching demon corpses burn!

  He needed to get through to Derek. “For once, Derek! For once! Can’t you at least say that you were wrong! Is that too much for you! How could you hurt her like that?”

  “You know the answer to this. She already blames herself. Must she endure your blame as well?” The savagery of Derek’s anger caught Damian up short. It was more than anger; it was almost disgust. Damian wanted to roar that he blamed Derek, not Genevieve—never Genevieve—but it suddenly occurred to him that for her it might well amount to the same thing.

  For the first time he began to wonder what had really happened between the two of them in that cave. He realized he knew that this was not a simple case of a man taking advantage of an inexperienced girl.

  He collapsed against a tree, covering his face with his hands. How on earth had his life fallen apart so? Genevieve had looked so vulnerable, so wretched. What if she tried to injure herself? He hated himself for feeling even a moment’s jealousy of Donal. Pray Titania Donal did everything in his power to comfort her even if she fell in love with him.

  “We quarreled,” he said before he could stop himself. “Just before you arrived.”

  “You feel guilty about that quarrel!” Derek said indignantly. “You were completely in the right! She’s your wife—she may leave the house when it pleases you to allow it. If she were mine, that would be once a year!”

  Damian laughed at that. What else could he do? Was there another man in existence equal to his brother for sheer gall? “I’m sure that pleased her.”

  “It should have! She was fortunate you only tied her to the bed!”

  “Is that why you punished her?” he grated.

  Derek appeared surprised. “Of course not. She’s not my wife.”

  “Well, I’m glad we have that clear!” Damian snapped out. “Since you went ahead and slept with her, I’d wondered if you’d forgotte
n that fact.”

  Derek had ever refused to acknowledge sarcasm and only glowered in response. Damian was forced to pull back from his anger, unwilling to walk away now that they were finally talking. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand the distinction you’re making, Derek,” he said with patently insincere patience.

  “You’re her husband—you’ll discipline her as you see fit. I would never undermine your authority with her.” Derek sounded annoyed, as if he were being asked to explain that the sun rises in the east.

  Damian wanted to yell, “You just fucked her instead,” but he forced himself to suppress his rage. Derek was incapable of even minor prevarication. He meant what he said. He would never deliberately undermine what he saw as Damian’s authority as husband.

  Damian realized he must try to speak to Derek in an idiom he would understand. “I’m glad to hear that, Derek. And now as husband, I would like to know why you saw fit to discipline my wife.” Damian didn’t bother erasing the irony from his tone.

  “Of course,” Derek said with no irony whatsoever. For the first time that Damian could recall, Derek looked uncertain. “From the moment we met, she has not stopped pushing me. She must have sensed how I would react to her defiance. I gave her many warnings, but she only pushed harder. I do not mean to suggest that she consciously sought to provoke me. I know she couldn’t help it. But I knew that she wouldn’t stop until I gave her what she sought from me. In the end her need was too great—I couldn’t resist it.”