Page 3 of Dominion

Darkness ruled this world and depravity—depravity was the main component of their sick little lives. And just like a mothbeing pulled toward the flame, my gaze went back to the man with the silver eyes and hair as light as my own.

“Genua!” the voice boomed through the room with another thud of the bell I had heard before, ordering us to kneel, but my body wasn’t cooperating. My entire system rebelled against the order even as the rest of the people went down on their knees. My mother looked up at me, her eyes pleading with me, begging me to go down, but I wouldn’t.

My father’s hand wrapped around my robe, pulling me down, but with strength I didn’t know I possessed, I pulled away from his grip, stepping forward. Later on, I would think about this moment as the moment when everything changed in my life, but right now, I wanted to cling onto the last bit of freedom I still possessed.

“Genua!” the voice boomed again, closer to me, but every nerve ending in my body rioted. As I turned to my right, where the voice came from, I let my mouth run before thinking. “No,” I practically murmured, but even the murmur could be heard in the otherwise quiet room. Like violent waves on the vicious sea, my voice washed over the crowd, earning gasps from those kneeling around me.

“No?” the man in the black mask asked, approaching slowly toward me. I didn’t miss the silver whip in his right hand or the muscles in his upper torso. Just as he lifted the whip, a new voice spoke up, booming loudly, owning the entire room.

“Let her be!”

Everything in me tuned into him, pulling me in his direction, but I forced myself to keep looking at the man in front of me. The man whose face was now entirely turned toward the area where the High Council sat.

Footsteps echoed around us, marching closer and closer to me, and the pressure my hands put on the mask I carried made indents from my thumbs.

“What is your name, Maiden?” that silky voice asked, and I couldn’t resist it anymore. I couldn’t resist the pull it had on me. I slowly turned in the direction where he walked from. I wasn’t surprised to see that it was the man I looked at earlier, or that he wasn’t scowling at me or showing any signs of anger at my insolence.

“We’re so sorry for this, your?—”

My father started talking, trying to get up, but he cut him off.

“I don’t remember giving you the permission to speak, peasant. I asked her for her name, not for your useless excuses.”

The dress I wore underneath the cloak suddenly felt too tight, too much, as his eyes ravaged every inch of my body, starting from my bare feet, all the way to my face.

“Your name, Maiden?” he practically whispered as he approached, keeping his hands right in front of him, crossed over one another, as if he couldn’t trust himself not to touch me.

“Medea Siatas,” I answered, straightening up. But even with all my height, I was no match for him. I tilted my head, looking him straight in the eye, uncaring about the consequences at this point. Dying would be a merciful way to go if it meant not having to go with them.

His cheek went barely an inch up, pulling his lips into a lopsided smile, but my face remained immovable. The terror of what I’d done finally caught up with me, but there was no going back. The golden robe he wore reminded me of the brilliant sunsets on the coast back home in Greece, where everything seemed so much simpler. The darker orange patterns cascading over the edges of the robe had my attention, but not for much longer.

“That sounds Greek,” he said, starting to circle around me.

“It is.”

“But you don’t look Greek,” he observed, his voice coming close from behind me, but I was immovable. There was no wayI was getting out of here alive, but he had a point. I didn’t look Greek.

Not even a little bit, and my entire family knew why. They just had no idea I knew.

“Because I’m not.”

The gasp from my mother would’ve made me feel sad for her once upon a time, but after this, after what they did, I had no love left to give them. I had no compassion for those two people who raised me, loved me until my sister died, turning to me as if I was a spare part they could use.

“I was found on the shore of the river by my mother when I was just a couple of months old.”

“Medea,” my mom cried, her sobs doing nothing for me. This was no time for her apologies or the fact that they’ve been lying to me my entire life.

“That’s why I don’t look like them.” I pointed at my father and my mother just as the man stopped again in front of me. “But I am Greek by everything else.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured, dragging his thumb over his chin.

“What is your name?” I asked bravely, maybe even stupidly, because we all knew what it meant knowing the name of one of them. We all knew what power they held.

His eyes widened at my stupid question, but instead of scolding me or trying to beat me for my insolence, he came closer, those long fingers of his pushing back the hood of my cape, revealing my silvery hair to everyone else.

Murmurs erupted around us, but I paid them no attention. My entire focus was on the man in front of me. I had no idea what this was, this insane pull, this insane need to have my eyes on him, but I liked it more than looking at everyone else in this room.

Hot breath washed over my cheek as he brought his lips closer to my ear, chuckling as goosebumps erupted over my skin.

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