Draper’s fingers feathered on my neck, checking me for the third time since we’d escaped. “You’re alive,” he breathed, and then repeated the nervous declaration a few more times to reassure himself.
Link was on high alert, his shoulders tensed, and no trace of the smile I loved anywhere in sight. “Someone triggered Mad? And they told him to kill ye? How did ye escape?”
“Barely, that’s how. Hamish and Abraham Lincoln threw themselves into the fight, and Mad murdered them! Mad murdered my baby and my friend!” I croaked out in a mournful bleat of agony. “He’s trying to fight it, I can tell, but he can’t! He’s running here now to kill me.”
Link took in the tears on my face and cleared the distance between us so he could press a kiss to my forehead. “It’s alright, sweet lass. I’ll handle it from here.”
I clung to Link’s shirt, afraid to let him go. “Don’t hurt him! It’s not him who tried to kill me. I saw the switch. Mad didn’t know what he was doing.”
“I know. Shh. You’ll stay tucked in here. Maybe go wait with Master Kerdik and your Da.” He patted my back twice. “Ye might want to lock yourself in the room with them, just to be safe. I can talk Mad down, but sometimes there are flare-ups.” He turned to Draper. “Alert the staff to lock themselves in rooms until I come around with the ‘all clear’. Then lock yourself up, too.”
Draper wasted no time with questions. He ran to the kitchen, shouting the command as he went. I limped to my dad’s bedroom, startling Jean-Luc, my dad and Kerdik with my disheveled state as I ambled into the room, followed by the slammed door. When Draper joined us, I bolted the door and sank to the floor, my back to the wood. I tried to tell myself I was safe, and everything would be okay.
The three men wanted answers, but I could barely work out how it all went so far south. It took a few tries before the whole story came out. I hugged my knees to my chest and tried not to fall apart.
“And he’s on his way here now?” Kerdik questioned, with no room in his tone for mercy.
“You can’t hurt him, Kerdik. Mad didn’t know what he was doing. Someone else was controlling him.”
“I realize that, but until Link can break through the barrier in his mind, you’re at risk.” Kerdik knelt in front of me, examining my face as he tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear. He leaned in and kissed the sore spot on my tearstained cheek. “I’ll take care of it.”
I didn’t want to voice how frightening the whole thing was, so I simply clung to Kerdik’s shirt collar, bringing him closer so I could wrap my quaking arms around his neck.
“Get my sword,” my dad commanded in a tone that was every bit as regal as it was brutal.
“No! You’ll hurt him, and that’s not what I want. Or worse, he’ll hurt you. He’s huge, Dad.”
Kerdik remained in control of his temper and the whole situation, which surprised me. “I won’t hurt your little friend, but I’ll contain him until Link can calm him down.” He fingered my chin and lifted it to expose my throat, his gaze hardening when he saw the deep thumbprint impressions Mad’s hands had left on my tender skin. “No, no. That won’t do.” Then he stood, bent over and scooped me up off the floor like I was a legit princess. Kerdik was strong, and in that moment, I felt weak, and so very, very small.
Being small requires a fair amount of trust in the people you let into your heart. With that small gesture of carrying me in his arms, I realized that I trusted Kerdik more than I’d ever meant to. When life grew unrecognizable, Kerdik let me hold tight to him. What’s more remarkable is that I allowed myself the freedom to cling to the person I needed.
“Jean-Luc, see to her injuries,” Kerdik instructed as he sat me on the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’m coming with you,” my dad said, his gait sturdier than it had been before I left.
Kerdik and I were of the same mind. “No, you’ll stay here.”
My dad’s chest puffed, indignant. “You’re not the king, Kerdik. You don’t tell me what to do.”
Kerdik managed a smile. “See, that’s the thing about you being you, and me being me. You’ll stay where I put you, and be grateful you’re not going to risk your life against an Untouchable who’s come unhinged.” With that, Kerdik exited. The second he shut the door, the space between the door and the jamb immediately filled with concrete that hardened in seconds. I heaved a sigh of relief that he’d sealed us inside.
My dad whirled around, livid. “I am not useless! I can fight for my own daughter when she’s attacked.”
“Kerdik loves you,” I explained, unapologetic.
My dad’s eyes fell on me as Jean-Luc started prying at my neck with gentle fingers. “No, darling. Kerdik loves you.”
We waited in suspended silence for too many minutes before Kerdik finally disintegrated the concrete that held us in place. My voice was a little raspy, but I managed to make myself heard over the din of voices that demanded explanations. “Is everyone okay?”
Kerdik nodded, walking past Jean-Luc and my dad to take my hand. He pulled me up to stand before him, again tipping my chin back so he could examine my throat. “Apparently there’s a safe word that works, but not fast enough for an immediate switch. Madigan’s still coming down from the frenzy he’s worked himself up into. We moved him to the dungeon, though, so it’s safe for everyone to move about the house.”
My mouth formed a tight line. “Is anyone with him?”
“No. He’s locked securely. He doesn’t need a warden. I’ll go get him out in an hour or so, once we’re absolutely sure he’s himself again.”
“Okay. I’m going down to wait it out with him.”
Urien, Draper, Kerdik and Jean-Luc all shook their heads. “No,” my father ruled. “He tried to kill you. You’ll stay on this floor. I don’t want you venturing near the basement.”
“I wasn’t actually asking for permission to move around my own house, guys.”
My father frowned imperiously. “I wasn’t giving you any.”
I sighed heavily. “He’s my fake fiancé. I’m not going to leave him in a dungeon by himself. He’s probably scared out of his mind down there.”
Urien pinched the bridge of his nose, no doubt wondering if it was too soon to lay down the law with me. “Take someone with you, then. If this is how your heart bends, I accept it.”
I’d been working my way up to hugging my dad. Morgan had been so adverse to physical affection. I was afraid to step on the wrong landmine and set him off, hurtling my father farther away from me than I could ever bring him back. But when he made it clear that I could be who I was, just with a little added protection, I found I couldn’t hold back any longer. My arms wrapped around his waist, my ear pressing to his chest so I could hear the steady thrum of his heart. It didn’t seem to beat with any ill will toward me.
Oh, that I could explain the wonder that it is to be held together by your father. He was strong when I was frazzled, protective when I had no sense of self-preservation. He was loving when I’d been throttled by the man I was supposed to be in love with. Urien was my father, and one single, solid inhale in his arms spackled together the cracks my heart had been operating with since I’d been a child.
“Thank you for letting me be myself. This really is important to me.”
His hands remained out from his body for a solid three seconds, letting me know he was a little stunned at the outburst of physical affection. Slowly his arms found their way around me, tightening and holding me to him with more emotion than even I put forth. When I moved to pull away, he held me in place. “Just a few seconds longer. You have no idea… I never dreamed that I’d get you back, and that when I did, that you’d be as loving and warmhearted as the woman standing before me now. I am the luckiest of all the fathers in all the worlds.”
I let out a toneless chuckle. “You’ve been frozen for two decades, and you still see yourself as lucky?”
“Of course I do. I have you. What further luck could any father need?”
&
nbsp; I beamed up at him. He was suddenly the kindness I knew my world would refuse to spin without, now that I knew the draw he had on my heart. “I’ll be back up, once I’m sure Mad’s okay.”
“Be safe, darling. Take one of the guys with you.”
I didn’t want to argue with him and tell him I was twenty-two now. I was capable of defending my own honor, and throwing my own punches. Instead I smiled at my dad for being overprotective. I let him shelter me and do what good fathers are supposed to do. If he was going to allow me to be myself, then I should allow him to be himself. “Okay, Dad.”
Urien placed his hand over his heart, like the simple act of naming him his rightful role had thrown a dagger of permanence through his heart.
Yes, I could get used to having a dad.
Childhood Triggers
The dungeon was dank, despite mine and Reyn’s best efforts to make the place an area children would want to be. After Roland’s blood had been spilled there, it didn’t have the same possibility I’d seen in it before. I wondered if the dungeon had changed, or if it had been me who’d lost the function of play.
My gimpy footsteps echoed down the long aisle that rested between the two rows of cells. My gold sandals had been traded in for sturdy black work boots, and my dress was exchanged for my usual jeans and a fitted white t-shirt. My hair was twisted in a knot on the top of my head, and I was careful none of the wayward curls dripped down into the bowl of stew I was carrying on a tray for Madigan.
“Go away,” I heard him growl from his cell at the end of the row.
I nodded to Link, who gave me a sullen wave with only half a smile. It was a sad day that muted an entire half of Link’s charming grin. “I’ll go away after I see you eat a few bites.”
As I neared the lantern that was set on a hook on the wall at the end of the aisle, I saw Madigan sitting in a cell in the far corner, his back to Link and his eyes trained on the concrete wall at the back of the cell. His knees were hugged to his chest, and for all the enormous The Rock-ness I’d always attributed to Madigan, in that moment, he looked like a sullen child, sent to the corner for bad behavior. “Take your tray and go.”
My eyes cut to Link, who shrugged as if to say this was par for the course. “I don’t think you want to turn up your nose at stew this good. I usually don’t feed the prisoners anything more than spider webs and gruel sandwiches.”
“Gruel sandwiches?” Link inquired, perking up. His arms were still folded over his chest, but he sat a little straighter on his stool that was positioned against the locked cell. “Got anything for me on that tray?”
“Not a bite. My fiancé eats first. I’m old-fashioned like that. In fact, I’m so set in my oppressed female ways that I’m not going to eat anything until my future husband has the first bite. As my official monkey, you don’t eat until Mad tries his stew, either.”
“Shut your gob, Rosie. Link can do what he likes.”
Link put on a show of pouting. “I should’ve opted to be the one to fake marry ye. Then I could be eating stew by the bucket.”
“Quiet, monkey,” I admonished him with a wink. The small motion was slightly painful from Mad’s sturdy backhand. I hoped I wouldn’t have a shiner in the morning. “How under the influence are you, Mad? Like, you’re yourself again?”
Mad didn’t turn to us – I doubt he even blinked when he answered with a toneless, “Aye.”
“Then I’m coming inside. Set your Tasers on stun.”
“I told ye to go away.”
I looked around for the keys, and found them dangling from Link’s fingers, a wicked gleam on his face. “Now who’s the monkey?” he asked, jangling the keys. “A bite of stew as payment for your entry, lass.”
“You can get your own stew. Mercy’s making a giant pot in the kitchen. Give me a minute with my fake fiancé.”
Link sniffed the beefy broth with a gluttonous sigh. “I don’t think your Da would want ye down here without protection.”
I quirked an eyebrow with probably too much attitude laced in. “You protect each other, not me. If you cared about me, you would’ve told me my boyfriend was off on a week-long bender. Instead you covered for him while I limped around the mansion, pining after him like a chump.” I cocked my eyebrow at him, my lips tightening. “In case you didn’t realize it, you and I are fighting.”
Link blew out a loud gust of air that I’d finally cottoned on to what they’d all been hiding from me. “I was hoping ye wouldn’t find out. Bastien’s not used to living with other people. He’s used to being able to go on a drunk for as long as he pleases without it affecting anyone. He doesn’t often do it unless life gets as grim as it is now. He’s been doing so much better since he met ye. He’ll come back around. He just lost his mate in the worst way.”
“I’m not talking about him; I’m talking about you. You protected Bastien, not me. I can handle myself around Mad. I know he would never really hurt me.”
Link hung his head, but Madigan scoffed. “How can ye say tha? I nearly killed ye, Rosie. Ye have hardly any friends, and I snuffed out two of them right in front of ye.” The muscles in Madigan’s neck tightened. “Abraham Lincoln was a useful bear, too. I didn’t want to hurt them, but I saw myself put out their lights. The whole thing makes me... Just go away.”
Balancing the tray in one hand, I snatched the key from Link’s deflated grip and jammed it into the lock. “I’m in this, okay? You can’t flip a switch like that and then expect me to just take it and skulk off with my shame. If I’m going to stand by you through all of this, you can’t treat me like an outsider.”
“Ye are an outsider. Ye can’t possibly know what it’s like to be Untouchable.”
I slid into the cell, setting the tray down in the far corner before I moved over to him and sat by his side, facing the concrete wall. “Then tell me. Tell me how I almost died because of a word. Tell me what we’re up against.”
“‘We’ aren’t up against anything. It’s me and Link, and sometimes Bastien when we’re in Avalon.”
I held up my hand to show him my tattoo, and then fingered the tender spot on my neck. “Think again, chief. Be as Untouchable as you want, but whoever sprung you into action out there today knew he couldn’t get you to kill me without triggering you. He knows I’m in this. Tell me why I almost died, Mad. I think that, of all the ways I could be a pain to you right now, I deserve to know that small detail, at least.”
I let my words settle between us, not speaking anything further, so Mad would know the ball was still in his court, and I was going to just friggin’ leave it there for him to puzzle with. Link moved into the cell and sat down on my other side, facing the wall with us, and waiting.
I couldn’t tell you how many minutes I waited, staring at the wall between Mad and Link before Madigan finally broke. “I was taken from my mammy when I was too young to remember her. I like to pretend her name was Sheila, but it could well be Bertha, and I wouldn’t know.”
I turned over his words before speaking softly. “Sheila’s a nice name. Who took you from her?”
“Éireland’s army had a radical faction not many know about. They wanted to create soldiers who would be worth more to the queen. They decided we should be groomed from childhood, instead of volunteering when we came of age. I was raised in a commune with a bunch of other lads who didn’t know their mammies.”
I didn’t want to speak, for fear of saying the wrong thing and making the wounded animal retreat back into his hole of solitude. Link was stock-still, looking straight ahead at the wall, his eyes wide at the rarity that was Madigan opening up. Finally, I managed a gentle, “That sounds awful.”
“Aye. We didn’t know it could be any different, though.” He looked at his hands, turning his palm up so I could see it. “The woman who fed us wore mittens with briars on them. When she’d pat us on the heads, it would scrape us and draw blood. Taught us to hate touch from a young age. Smart.”
My heart clinched in my chest. “Do you still hate
it, or do you just think it’s going to hurt each time? Do you still feel the briars?”
He squeezed his hand a few times. “I don’t know. It didn’t hurt when Meara touched me. Sometimes Link or Bastien or the other lads bump my shoulder, hug me, or slap my hand. Tha doesn’t hurt. Everything else feels wrong, though.”
I nodded. “That makes sense. So the woman who fed you, did she have a name?”
Mad shook his head, not seeing the shadows on the wall in front of him, but more plagued by the flickers of a life that never seemed to leave his mind. “No. She wasn’t allowed to get too close to us. The soldiers were afraid she’d soften us, turn us weak. The weak ones were killed off, so I didn’t get close to her.” When I didn’t chime in with a question or anything to say, Mad continued. “They didn’t tolerate flaws. They didn’t allow emotions. If one of us failed a task, we were given one more chance. If we failed then, one of us had to kill the failure. ‘Failures don’t fly to greatness,’” he said in monotone, and I could tell he was quoting some mantra or something that was too deeply engrained to iron itself out over time. “The other lads didn’t have the stomachs for killing, so I usually did it. When I escaped the compound, and offered myself to Éireland’s army with Link, the commander noticed my unique talents.”
When Madigan stopped talking, Link picked up the trail. “They made him carry out the torture he’d tried to run away from. At first it was one insurgent who needed a reckoning. Then a few more. Before long, Mad was being used exactly as the compound he’d left had intended. He was a killing machine, and nothing more. So we fought our way out together and never looked back.” His eyes darted to mine. “I think tha earns me a fair bit of his stew. He’s not going to touch it.”
When Link reached for the tray, I slapped his hand. “Not on your life, monkey. His story’s worse. Mad gets the stew.”
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