by L. J. Stock
“What would you like to know, sir?” I asked, feeling very uncomfortable and fighting the urge to fidget in my seat. I was trying not to slouch, but the heavy dress was weighing me down and making it impossible to resist falling against the high back of the chair I was occupying.
“Anything.” He chortled playfully. “Isn’t that the excitement of meeting someone for the first time?”
Normally it would be, but my history was short and very boring. It wasn’t as though I’d led the life of an adventurer; in fact, it was the complete opposite. I knew what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him about thinking I'd lost my mind when Damon went missing, always wondering whether he was alive or dead – that I'd lived miserably until I was put into a hospital because people thought I was crazy, when all along, he, along with Acantha and my mother, knew what was going on in my life and why I could hear what I heard and see what I saw. Yet I couldn't say any of that. Insolence would only get me into trouble and I would never get the chance to ask for standard training.
So I went with the basics instead, figuring that it was better to give an answer of some sort.
“Well, I'm twenty-four. I lived in Portland, Maine with my parents my whole life, and then a hospital farther north of that up until a few weeks ago. I have an older brother, who's married to an amazing lady, and they have a beautiful son, Oliver. He’s been my own ray of sunshine since he was born. That's really all there is to tell. There’s not much excitement going on in a hospital when people think you’re crazy.”
I knew it was vague, and slightly sarcastic, but I wasn't about to give him a sob story that would lead into my self-appointed taboo subjects. There was no need to go into anything else. If he wanted to know more, he was welcome to ask. When I let my eyes fall on him, I was surprised to see a veil of sadness hanging over him as he regarded me. Whatever he’d expected from my answer, it obviously hadn’t been that. I almost felt guilty for causing that look in his eyes.
“I imagine it was a difficult time for you.”
“You could say that, sir.”
“Damon told me you had requested an audience with me, and I apologize for keeping him for so long. Although he wouldn't elaborate on the subject much, he seemed to think you and I needed to talk.” The king smiled, his head turning slightly to catch Damon in his periphery. Damon smirked for a second before recovering the stoic look of indifference he’d worn before. “I was hoping you could do the honors, Cass, especially considering the lengths you've gone to to get here.”
I felt my embarrassment rise in the form of a blush, almost wishing Damon would wipe off the I’m not here look he was currently wearing. It was making me even more uneasy than I was already. I took a deep breath and tried to figure out the best way to address exactly why I was in his presence.
“I’m sorry about the persistence, Your Highness. It’s about my training and my part in the Vis Liberi. Acantha mentioned that you'd put restrictions on my involvement and I was hoping that I could persuade you to revoke them, or perhaps redefine the limitations.”
He sat back in his chair and stroked his beard thoughtfully. His eyes were still light and relaxed. At least I hadn't angered him in any way. I’d been worried he’d see the question as insolence when he’d already ruled on the subject. Of course, his lack of response was another matter entirely. So I felt the need to elaborate further.
“I'm not saying that I expect you to send me out with the other Vis Liberi. I'm well aware of the reasoning behind keeping me safe. I was just hoping to have the same training so that I could understand what we do, and, in the event of being caught off guard, have the ability to protect myself.”
The king looked thoughtful for a moment and I could see Damon behind him, shifting from one foot to the other. He stroked his beard down into a point and inhaled a breath to respond.
“I can't see any foreseeable problem with that, Cass. I think it would be good for you to understand what our worlds are up against. This war has been raging on and off for hundreds of years, but this latest attack has been the longest offensive yet, and I fear that we are coming to a culmination we cannot avoid. My people are dying, and the last thing I want is for an accident to end anybody’s life. I do, however, have a stipulation of my own if I'm to agree to this.”
I nodded, sitting forward in my seat. He had my full attention. The small lecture on how dangerous times had become didn’t fall on deaf ears. I was all too aware of how bad things had become I had spent so many years of my life hearing the battles raging, but I'd never expected him to agree quite so quickly and I almost felt deflated at not being able to use the rest of my arguments. I wasn't stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, so I waited patiently for him to continue.
“Damon will be in charge of your physical training. He's one of my best personal guards. Times have been difficult for us and many of our traditions have suffered. Damon has had the best training in the guard since childhood. He’s a fast and eager learner, which makes him an effective and successful teacher. All this, of course, is based on whether or not he's agreeable to it.”
Great! I could see that going down like a lead balloon. I looked up at Damon, who was still standing behind the king’s shoulder, hopeful that he would be willing to do this for me. It was just unfortunate that I noticed the frown before he could wipe it clean. I could see something hiding behind his eyes, something that said he wasn’t convinced that this was the right course of action. The pause was obviously a little too long, because the king turned in his seat to look at him.
“I would be honored to, Your Highness. If you wish it so.”
“Excellent. Then that's taken care of,” the king said through a smile. He turned back in his seat to grin brightly at me. “Now, it's my turn to ask some questions. I find that we have much to discuss, Cass. Would you kindly excuse us, Damon?”
“Certainly, Your Highness,” Damon answered, shooting me a quick look of apology before heading toward the door. I could see the rigidity in his muscular back as he took measured steps forward. He wasn’t comfortable leaving us alone. I wasn’t sure if he feared more for the king or myself, and it did nothing to instill confidence in me.
I wasn't sure why the king had asked Damon to leave, and I knew requesting him to stay would be rude, and quite possibly denied. So I took a deep breath and fortified myself, gripping the arms of my chair as I waited. Damon was the only thing that was familiar to me in this world, and the loss of him when I was feeling vulnerable made this situation more alien than it already was. What could the king possibly have to say to me that he couldn't say in front of Damon?
The closing of the door was like a gunshot through my heart. My palms became clammy, forcing me to wipe them on the skirt of my dress as I tried to decide how to handle being alone with a stranger who just happened to be the king.
I could have killed Damon for putting me in this position without so much as a fight. The king had made a request and off he'd trotted like the good little soldier he was. Under any other circumstances, I think I would have been impressed, but this was me, sitting alone, wondering what the hell was coming.
My restless legs started tapping out a pattern under the table as my hands moved to my mouth, my teeth worrying at the cuticles of my thumb as I waited for him to say or do anything that would tell me the reason I was being singled out. I knew this wasn't protocol. I'd had so much coaching, not just from my grandmother, but from Damon and Melody, too. Not one part of that covered being in a room alone with the king, which meant I was sitting clueless, my skin prickling from the nervous perspiration that had flared down my spine.
“Relax, Cassandra. You've done nothing wrong.”
I nodded, my thumb still against my mouth as I chewed anxiously. As much as I wanted to believe him, there was still the undeniable fact that we were alone. In response to my nervous twitches, the king’s right hand rose, smoothing his beard down to a point at his chin again, where he tugged on the hair gently. It looked like a well-practiced comf
orting tactic for himself, just like my cuticle chewing had become for me.
Before I could ask him about it, he was pushing to his feet, his hands dropping and linking behind his back as his eyes met the path his feet were about to follow. Looking at the floor, his shoulders were straight, and his spine rigid. He exuded his station in life, the sophistication mesmerizing as I watched him move in a measured pace from one side of the room to the other.
I waited as patiently as I could for him to say something, and it wasn't easy. Much more of this ringing silence between us and I was going to flee out of sheer panic. He dominated the space in the room facilely.
“Your Majesty?” I finally asked, breaking the heavily weighted reticence. I knew it was impolite, bad etiquette, and impatient of me, but his growing restlessness was making me edgy and nervous.
“From what I understand,” he finally said quietly, “Acantha has spoken to you in detail about the prophecy?”
I shifted in my seat again, my hands dropping to my lap and pushing the creases from the skirt, hoping the fabric would absorb the renewed dampness his question had brought to my palms. My heart was thundering in my chest as I tried to calm myself down.
“She did, and I know who you think I am, but I have to be honest, sir, I think you're mistaken.”
“There's no thinking, Cass, and there is no error,” he said with complete assurance. His eyes held the same conviction as his words as I turned in my seat to face him. “I know it's hard for you to understand, but I know you are the woman spoken about in the prophecy.”
I was trying my best not to be rude, so I swallowed my argument and sniffed instead, my eyes dropping to my lap for a moment as I thought about the words of the prophecy. I'd had Acantha write them down so I could look over them, and I’d read them so many times I practically had them memorized.
“I can't deny there are some similarities, sir. However, there are other, much more prevalent points that just don't fit me.”
“Like?”
“I'm the granddaughter of a water nymph, but that's only one element. It's very clear that this woman has more than one. In fact, that's one of the main requirements. She is supposed to be of water and fire.”
“And you are.”
Taking a deep breath and lifting my head, I looked up at him, not even making an effort to hide my frown. I didn't want to be rude, but I had no choice but to correct him. There was no reality in which my father had something ethereal in him. The truth was, the man was quite possibly the spawn of the devil himself.
“Sir, I think you're mistaken. Believe me, Acantha and I have spoken about nymphs, and she made it more than clear that most, even the underworld variety, have a certain amount of light in them. My father...”
There was nothing light in him. The only thing that man had ever shown me was a healthy dose of absolute hatred and detestation.
The king stopped his pacing, obviously hearing something in my tone that caught his attention. The king gripped the back of the chair he'd previously occupied, and I noticed the white of his knuckles as he squeezed. The light playfulness from earlier in the meeting was now long gone.
“I’m sorry. Did I offend you, Your Majesty?”
“No! No,” he said, softening his tone as he released the chair and scrubbed his face with his palms. “I'm just curious. You and your father, the way you speak of him, it seems as though you have a tempestuous relationship.”
“That's an understatement, and certainly not the way I’d describe it. The man loathes me. Always has. He's probably over the moon that I've gone missing.”
“What makes you say that?” He studied me with those haunting blue eyes that unnerved me, his pinky ring tapping against the chair, making it feel like a pendulum counting down the seconds.
“Oh, he had lots of nicknames for me growing up. I think the one that stands out most is bastard child.”
I rubbed my forehead and huffed out a breath. I hadn't wanted to get into this. My family life had no bearing on where I was now, other than the fact that my father was a complete shit and had no light in him whatsoever. Unfortunately, the floodgates had been opened.
“Then,” I continued, “when he gave me the lecture about being torn on whether to spend his money on sending me to the hospital so I'd be out of his way, or keeping me so I got crazy enough to go to a state facility, it kinda sealed the deal.”
Dropping my chin to my chest, I sucked in a breath before mentally reprimanding myself for the ramble. What the hell was wrong with me? This sudden need to be verbose about my history was asinine. This had absolutely nothing to do with anything here. I'd made my point. My father had no light in him. Now I had to shut myself up.
“He said those things to you?” the king asked, his voice filled with the anger that was now emanating from his previously benevolent features. For a second it took me aback, and my hands landed in my lap, twisting with my discomfort.
“Bastard child?” I asked, noting his wince and the increase in the speed of his finger tapping. “Every day, sir, and the hospital speech was the last thing he ever said to me.”
King Kyros bowed his head and the room became devoid of any sound at all, the ring tapping not even leaving an echo from its last click. Sliding his eyes closed, the king inhaled a deep, soothing breath to calm himself. I tried to find the right emotion in his features, and it took me a while to realize what I was seeing. He was angry. Really and truly angry, and it made him look even more imposing. In fact, terrifying was probably a more appropriate summarization. I didn't know what I'd said to warrant this kind of reaction from him, but I really wished I could take it back. The wrath of a normal person was bad enough, but from someone with several armies at their back, it was possibly the most daunting thing I'd ever faced.
“You really didn't need to hear that,” I said apologetically, shifting in my seat in case I needed to make a run for it. “It's all in the past and I've had seven years to get beyond it. I can assure you, it won't affect my performance.”
“You're apologizing to me?” The king pushed back from the chair and restarted his pacing at a swifter stride. He mumbled to himself under his breath several times, his head shaking from side to side, making his dark hair fall into his face. “I'm the one who is sorry, Cass. Eternally sorry.”
I met his eyes as he spun on his heel, my breath catching in my throat as we seemed to get stuck in a holding pattern. Remorse, an emotion I felt to my very toes, was shining back at me from his eyes, matching every emotion I felt, even if I wasn't quite sure I understood why.
“Are you finally seeing that I'm not who you thought I was?” I asked, the inexplicable sadness pooling in my chest and shrouding my heart.
“No, my dear. You have fire nymph blood in you. Of this I am completely and utterly sure. What I regret is your sad excuse for a father.” He choked on the last word before he paused, tipping his head slightly. “Can I ask what your mother did about his terrible behavior?”
“There was nothing she could do,” I admitted. “She made excuses for him, but I’m not sure she ever believed her own lies. Can I ask why you’re so sure?”
“You’re saying that she did nothing to stop his verbal abuse?” he asked with abhorrence. The darkening of his eyes gave me the inclination to shrink away from him, but I didn’t want to offend or embarrass him so I stood my ground.
“Sir, what does it matter? It’s all in the past. And excuse me for saying so, but I think you're avoiding my question.”
We both stared at one another, our resolve ringing through, steadfast and iron clad. Neither of us was backing down. I didn't want to give him the impression I was deliberately goading him, but my curiosity was winning out against my niceties. I was so close to an answer I could smell it.
“This is the strong-willed woman Damon spoke of,” he said with a certain amount of respect.
“Yes, and you continue to evade when I ask you a question,” I fired back tenaciously.
Crouching by my chair,
he squeezed my hands gently, an odd sensation considering the anger radiating from him. In some regard it seemed wrong to be looking down at a king, but when he had the answers I so desperately wanted, it didn't seem quite so significant. My selfish need to understand was an unbridled determination that was headstrong and indignant.
“Please, answer the question,” I begged.
Sucking in a large gulp of air, he released it again, his head bowed so his lips met the back of my hand. I could feel myself start to tremble. This moment and the unexpected affection from him were unfamiliar, and yet, welcome. I couldn't explain the way I felt. It was reverent, almost like…
“I know you have the blood of a fire nymph in you,” he said quietly, “because I'm your father, Cassandra.”
He’d said it out loud before I could so much as think it.
Every one of my muscles tensed at the same time. It was like a full body spasm, one that locked me in place as my breath became lodged painfully in my throat. My brain sputtered to a frazzled halt.
“I… What?”
A loud tinny buzzing started in my head somewhere and grew deafening as everything in my sight seemed to shift, sending my equilibrium completely off kilter. My eyes moved around the room with such speed, looking for a familiar sight to anchor me, but there was nothing and no one. I could feel myself sliding into some kind of anxiety attack as my chest tightened and the air became thin.
I couldn't breathe.
I opened my mouth, but closed it with such ferocity my teeth crashed together audibly. The short pants of breath began making wheezing sounds. I finally closed my eyes and let myself think about everything this entailed, and tried to catch my breath enough to allow me to process the information.
All this time, all of this time, my mom knew, letting me suffer for her mistakes with the cruel bastard she’d married. I had been punished for being born and all she could do was make excuses for her husband. Yet she wasn't the only one who knew and did nothing. King Kyros had known who I was and where I was, and he’d left me there to rot, too. They all had, and the list of names was becoming longer by the day.