Page 24 of Her Dark Promise

If he hadn't just called my prisoner ‘son’, I would have assumed they were related somehow, as they looked exactly alike with only minor differences.

My prisoner stiffened at his father’s words, back straight and hands at his side. As furious as he was mere seconds ago, he reeked of nervous energy; he was afraid of this man.

I walked over to his side and stared at him, willing him to continue and give me something I could use.

Finally, he found his courage, and the hunter said, “Father, this madnesshasto end.”

The man didn’t even bother to look at him or say anything as he continued reading something written on parchment. He clearly couldn’t be bothered with this apparent nonsense.

The hunter raised his voice as much as he dared. “La bête de la forêt interditeis a myth! So why do you insist on continuing this tradition?”

My back straightened. They were talking about me.

His father lazily looked at his son—really looked at him. His eyes ran over his haggard appearance, and he took his time in answering, knowing that the delay would anger his impatient son more than whatever he had to say.

When he deemed that enough time had passed, he said, “Just because we have not seen the beast doesn’t mean that it is not real. You know the stories ofl'homme tailladé. The group of men was shredded to ribbons, the survivor’s skin grotesquely marred from having to be stitched back together. We are preventing that from ever happening again.”

“And yet it continues.”

His father shrugged. “No deaths in years, son. Why should we stop something that is working?”

“It is a ridiculous superstition. The Church of the Beast, which you head, believes it. Has made it into a deity that you believe warrants yearly sacrifices.”

“The sacrifices are not the only reason to continue on…”

My face paled, no, it couldn't be true. I tried to calm my breathing.

“What do you mean?”

I held my breath.

“You will soon learn the intricacies of leading this town.”

“And what intricacies are those?”

A sly smile played on the man’s lips. “Through fear.”

My mouth had gone dry, and I didn’t have to look at the hunter to know that his skin had gone pale. I could feel the disgust runthrough him. He was the son of the leader of the village, the village that tossed Emilia to the forest.

I had the son of the very man who sealed Emilia’s fate…and all the children before her.

My prisoner squeezed his hands tightly by his side and replied, “You are willing to sacrifice your daughter just to continue inciting fear in your people?”

“It is an honor to be one of the chosen! Joséphine knows what is expected of her.”

“She is five years old! She doesn’t understand any of this.”

His father’s lips pressed together, and I thought I might have seen a flash of emotion in his features.

His voice dropped to a whisper. “I am devastated, Bastian, but plenty of families have given their children to the forest over the years. I don’t have a choice in this.”

His sister was the chosen one this year. How could a father accept this fate of his own child?

Perhaps, the same way yours did.

I gasped when I heard her, glancing around the room at the father and son, feeling like she was inside the memory with me.

Two similar fathers, willing to murder their children for the cause.

---