Parallel (Mortisalian Saga Book 1)

by L. J. Stock

  “Angering them will only push them harder to prove their point.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded in agreement, my head falling back on my shoulders as I tried to fight through the haze of pain that wouldn't dissipate.

  It must have been an hour before Charon showed up again. He stepped into the cell looking well rested compared to his earlier appearance. He didn't say a word to either of us as he dragged a chair in front of me and straddled it. I wasn't sure if it made me feel better or not, but he looked uncomfortable.

  “Do you know why we call women the fairer sex, Princess?”

  My snide remark sat on the edge of my tongue like a bad taste that needed to be spat out. I wasn't the one who replied though. That was left to Damon, who pulled against his chains like a wild dog possessed.

  “You sick son of a whore.”

  It was at that point I figured out what he was saying. I stiffened as Charon hesitantly put his hands on my thighs. This was the age-old concern of putting women into war. We could fight and pull our weight efficiently, but it was always a risk when fighting on the front line because of the threat of abuse. The only thing that made me feel any better at all was the green hue to Charon's complexion. He was obviously not happy about this either.

  I pushed my thighs together, my ankles pulling against the manacles until I felt the warm trickle of blood over my skin as it drenched my sock.

  “How very honorable of you,” I barked out to stop the shake in my voice from showing. “Do you sodomize the men you capture, too?”

  If I'd thought Charon was green before, it was nothing compared to the look he was wearing when I spat that at him. He hadn’t expected it; my lack of inhibition with such intimacies surprised him as much as it had Rasmus. Charon’s hands shook against my thighs, and though I knew I'd gotten through to him, their warning was received loud and clear. Escape wouldn't always be the case. If anything, the latros were known for their lack of conscience, ethics and morals. It wasn't a comforting thought, but something I would have to think about once I got out of this.

  Before I could think more on the situation, Charon removed his hands and pushed away from me in his chair. Guilt raised its ugly head in my gut and I fought the urge to apologize to him. It was a low blow. I opened my mouth and closed it again, unsure what to do next.

  The door to the cell opened once again, and I was unsurprised to find Aiolos standing at the door. He gave Charon a nod, and the man in front of me seemed happy to leave. He disappeared from the room and his footsteps faded quickly as Aiolos stepped inside and shut the bars behind him. He occupied the chair in front of me and stared, his eyes hard and devoid of any emotion whatsoever. He didn't say a word, and there was nothing to read in his body language. I found my fear rising quickly.

  “Are you the Princess of Mortisali?” he asked, calmly and quietly. The lack of reaction unnerved me more than Charon's yelling and anger.

  “No.”

  The slap was quick and efficient. If I'd hazarded a guess, I would have said it was a warning.

  “Would you like to tell me the truth?”

  “I am.”

  There was a fist to the ribs that stole my breath, and my eyes widened as I looked up at the man who still looked as composed as he had when he'd sat down.

  “I can only ask this question so many times, and you’re a terrible liar.”

  “Sorry, you will always get the same response. I am not the princess.” I left the ‘not yet’ unsaid. He was right; I was an awful liar and I knew he could read my responses. If he wanted to be technical, however, I could give him a run for his money. I would take the pain he gave me as best I could. It was the only thing I could do.

  “Are you the daughter of the King of Mortisali?”

  I rolled my eyes. He had me and he knew it. It wasn't a question I could lie about and he would know I was lying. This gave him fuel to work with.

  “That depends on who you ask.”

  “That's not an answer.” He brought his fist down on the back of my hand. It was hard enough that it would leave a bruise but there were no broken bones.

  “By law and the Gods, could you be called the king's offspring?”

  “No!”

  Aiolos gripped my hand, my baby finger sitting in between two of his large fingers. Pressing his finger against the joint, he caught my eyes and held them.

  “Do you share blood with the king?”

  “No.”

  I heard the snap before the pain rushed through my body. The ringing in my ears grew intolerable as my father's voice came into the room like a roar of a lion. I held my silence, swallowing the sounds that blocked my throat.

  Aiolos placed my hand down and stood to attention, the pallor of his skin immediate as he turned to look at the king. I could see beyond him to Damon. Rage lit his features as he looked between Aiolos and I.

  “Your Majesty.” Aiolos bowed in the direction of the iron bars and the door they held, and I could only imagine the expression my father wore when he swallowed compulsively.

  “Broken bones were not agreed upon, Aiolos.”

  Before the man could open his mouth to defend himself, I knew what I had to do.

  “Stop. He would have done much worse had this been real. At least now I know what I can handle, and you know I can look after myself. You will not punish him for this. Do you understand me, Father?”

  It was a risk commanding anything of the king, but I wasn’t talking to him in that capacity. I was a daughter, asking her father for something.

  “Cass–”

  “I won’t debate with you about this. Would you have done the same with any other trainee?”

  “You are not just any trainee. You're my daughter.”

  “That doesn't mean anything if I'm abducted. Wouldn't you rather have the knowledge that I can accept the pain and keep my mouth shut rather than wonder whether I'm alive or dead?”

  “Milady, please, I will accept any punishment my king would like to give.”

  “I'm afraid I cannot,” I countered.

  “She's correct, Aiolos. You were doing what I asked of you,” my father said, the resignation in his tone obvious. “Now please, let’s release them. I think I would like to take my daughter to the healer.”

  Aiolos did as he was asked, but I stayed seated as he moved to release Damon. I hadn't followed the conversation since I'd finished my plea. The room was beginning to spin around me, and I'd been so focused on getting my father to listen to me that I hadn't felt my body slowly absorbing the pain until it practically consumed me.

  “Cass?”

  I looked in the direction of my father’s voice. I could hear Damon and Aiolos talking somewhere, but the buzzing became too loud as I finally found my feet. Taking one step was the last conscious thought I had before everything around me faded to black.

  Dealing

  With consciousness came pain. I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a freight train and dragged a couple of miles over hot coals. There was a weight on my hand my mind couldn't process, and my head felt ten times the size it should have been. It was only when I tried to open both eyes that I realized one of them was swollen shut.

  “Ouch,” I grumbled, trying to sit up. When I pushed my hands down, I suddenly realized I was in a bed, the softness surrounding me, the warmth of the blankets sinking into my wakefulness. It was unfortunate that the throbbing pain still took up most of my mind’s process, but the one eye that did open began to acknowledge the shapes and images. I couldn't help but wince at my mother who was sitting beside me with her arms crossed tightly across her chest and a scowl that needed no further elaboration, aimed directly at me.

  “Someone tell her father she's awake,” she snapped unapologetically. She hadn't moved her glare from me, so it was hard to tell who else was in the room or who, exactly, she was talking to. She pointed one finger at me, her expression offering no room for argument. “You should probably just stay down, young lady.”

  I mumb
led under my breath and relaxed into the pillows that cocooned me. The ache in my body was superseding the need to defy her orders. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I probably couldn’t move, even if I wanted to. I ignored the fact that I was old enough to make my own decisions, and more to the point, had I been in my right mind, I would have told her so. Her command was just a good excuse not to have to move an inch and inflict myself with more throbbing on my body, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “I would love to know what the hell you thought you were doing, Cassandra April?”

  I rolled my one good eye at her use of my middle name. She only ever did that when she was trying to get my attention and hold onto it. I'd always frozen when I'd heard it in the past, but it was just a word to me now, a name that no longer had the power to make me freeze in place and cower under her wrath. As much as I'd forgiven her for trying to protect me, there were still things that couldn't be replaced after years spent neglected by her. She hadn't parented me for years.

  “Thinking didn't come into it,” I said proudly, finding it harder than normal to form words around my fat lip. “It was instinct and skill, which is all part of my training, remember, Diane Elizabeth?”

  “You may be an adult, Cass, but that doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that.”

  She was right. I had no right to talk to anyone like that, but the unrelenting pain made me snappy and irritable. If she really wanted to reprimand me for – well, I wasn't sure what she wanted to get a good grumble in about exactly – I was hoping she could do it later, when all of my faculties were online.

  I heard a door close in the room and it was less than five seconds before Melody appeared at my mom's right shoulder, wringing her hands and looking worried and a little bit terrified at relaying whatever message she had for my mother.

  “He said to tell you he's coming in, Milady.”

  “He–”

  “Is my father and this is his palace,” I interjected with a weak smile in Melody’s direction. “He can do as he pleases, Mother. Let him in, Mel.”

  “If he enters this room after knowingly placing you in this situation, I… I refuse to stay.”

  “Then go, Mom. I would like you to be here, but I will not let you force me into choosing between the two of you.” The certitude of the statement hit me long before her response did. Wasn’t that what I was doing? Making choices between people left and right? Whether it was between my parents, giving it all up to be with my mom and family, or stay and take my place beside my father as princess; Damon and the Baron – the man I loved over the man I was being forced into a relationship with; or even Alexa and Acantha and who to spend time with in the free hour I had before crashing in bed. It was all I'd been doing for months now.

  “You just did, Cass.”

  My sigh of stoicism was drowned out by the heavy tread of my father's boots. The sight of him stopped me from responding to her catty little comment, and whether she saw the plea in my one good eye, or simply decided to stand her ground, I would never know. I was just happy she didn't flee like she’d threatened to.

  The king appeared over her shoulder as Melody had and looked just as concerned. He’d had no reason to look so cowed, even if my mother had chewed him out. I’d been the one to make the decision to train. I’d practically begged him to let me follow the same training as the rest of my counterparts. I made my swollen lips curl into a smile of reassurance and he matched it, relief easing the creases at the corners of his eyes as he assessed me again.

  “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

  “Now that's a stupid question,” Mom interjected, throwing her arms up before I could so much as form a response on my lips.

  “Hello to you, too, Diane.”

  She let her silence answer for her and the flash of mirth in my father’s eyes screamed that he was still very happy to be in her company, even if she was snapping at him like a pissed off mountain lion with her tail in a knot.

  “I'm fine, thanks,” I said pointedly, giving my mom a glare. “Sorry I went all girly on you.”

  “Of all the–” The narrowing of my eyes shut my mother up. I'd asked her to stay but I could quite as happily ask her to go if she couldn't be nice, and I was pretty sure she knew it, too.

  “Cass, you didn't so much as make a sound.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The king ignored my mother’s disgruntled huff and sat on the bed. He took my uninjured hand in his, stroking my fingers gently. “When Aiolos… You didn't make a sound.”

  I felt the flush rise to my cheeks with his compliment and smiled. I was unsure of what to say or even how to say it. “I didn't want to show weakness. Damon says that’s how they can really get in your head.”

  “Damon is an idiot.” Damon growled from the door. He looked as bad as I felt, bruises covering his face and mottling the visible flesh of his arms, the angry bruise on his eye swelling around a stitched gash. One arm was hooked around his waist and as he stepped in farther, I noticed he had a limp. He bowed to the king, and my mother by default, before approaching the bed on the opposite side.

  “Why would you say that?” I asked, swallowing the amusement in my tone. I'd never seen Damon do humble before, and I was reveling in the experience.

  “It never should have made it that far. I should have diverted them.”

  “Oh? And how were you planning on doing that while shackled to the wall? You did everything you could to bring their attention to you. They had their orders. Short of pulling the nails from the stone wall, there was nothing you could do.”

  “She has a point,” my father said quietly, his hand still holding mine.

  Damon kneeled at the side of the bed slowly, his body finally coming to rest as he wore a grimace of pain. Stretching his arms out, he touched my arm with the tips of his fingers before pulling away, realizing what he was doing.

  “Your Majesty, I was supposed to protect her.”

  “And you did.”

  “I–”

  “Let me finish, Damon. I was watching as you were attacked. My daughter fought three of my best men and kept them at bay. You know the regimes these men go through day after day. Did she fold?”

  “No, Milord.”

  “No. She fought until they overpowered her, and it took three of them to do so. I would say you protected her well, in the respect that you taught her to protect herself.”

  My mom huffed her distaste and shook her head. “You make it sound like she's going to be on the front line.”

  “Diane…”

  “No. You will not appease me when it comes to this.”

  “Then hear me,” I spat, forcing my body up from the bed with a groan of pain. “There is no need for this skill, at least not for a while. I am protected by some of the best fighters in both worlds. However, if something should happen, I want to be able to protect myself. When it comes time to live out the prophecy, I will give myself a fighting chance. You will not appease me when it comes to this. I will train every day and hope I won't ever have to use it, because I know that the moment I stop and grow arrogant, I will reach for these lessons and they won't be there. You can think what you like. You can throw your opinions around as much as you want, but it won't stop me from doing what needs to be done.”

  For a moment, I actually thought I'd managed to get through to my mom. She sat in silence, staring at me as though she couldn't believe I had come from her DNA. For a second, I actually thought she was proud of me, but that was just too much to ask of Diane Collier when it came to her daughter. If I hadn't known her as well as I did, I would have thought her sigh was one of resignation, but it wasn't at all. This was impatience, pure and simple, because she believed she was right.

  “Everyone out. I want to talk to my daughter alone.”

  I growled with frustration and fell back into the pillows, wishing the room wasn't spinning quite so fast so I could leave, too. Unfortunately, I was trapped. Not to mention she had just ordered the king of
the world we were currently in to leave the room like the diva she was – one of his rooms to be precise. That was surprising enough, but when he started to comply, I gave him a withering look of surprise.

  “You should talk,” he whispered, his eyes awash with humor. “Rasmus is outside your room should you need protection.”

  “Like that's reassuring,” I grumbled with a huff. “He's terrified of her.”

  The king laughed and waited for Damon to catch up before pulling the door open and glancing at Rasmus, who seemed to be rigid on one side of the frame. Slapping Rasmus on his shoulder, he said something I couldn't hear as he pulled the door closed behind him, leaving me alone with my mother.

  We stared at one another, willing the other to talk first. I refused to be the one to say something to her. The inevitability of it being wrong and pissing her off more was too big of a risk to take, and I was in too much pain to verbally spar with her.

  “I'm proud of you,” she snapped, crossing her arms.

  I opened my mouth to argue, before her words sank in. Frowning, I almost broke my neck as my head turned to look at her, the pain searing through my nerves, reminding me of why movement was such a bad idea.

  “Umm, what?”

  She let her arms fall and her shoulders relax as she paced at the side of my bed, while I sat dumbfounded, honestly believing I'd fallen into another deep sleep.

  “You act as though I've never said that before,” she said in a huffed tone, her eyes rolling when her steps faltered slightly.

  “That's because you haven't.”

  She stopped pacing and gave me a look that should have made me hide under the blankets, but I couldn't find the energy to be bothered by it. The fact that it was also true gave me a stubborn edge as I stared back.

  “May I ask why you're proud without you getting upset?”

  “The truth?”

  I nodded in response and waited for her to go on.

  “You're stronger than I ever was, Cass.”

  “Did you do some battling I wasn't aware of?” I asked playfully, trying my hardest to lighten the mood that felt too heavy in the small room. She gave me another look and snorted in a feminine way, sitting on the bed next to me and folding her legs under her.