Page 3 of Bound in Violet Ink
Seeing as Iloathethe man I must call my father, I don’t really care if this fucks up any of his plans for my life. If anything, I might be counting on it.
Once I begin to write, I can’t stop:
Kane,
As much as common sense begs me to heed your words, I am afraid I cannot… at least, not with this letter. I have never, in my life, had someone strike my father’s closest men for his ill treatment of me. Until you.
I don’t even understand why writing to you would seal any kind of fate.
But you’re right, nonetheless.
This is probably pointless. No doubt your actions are convoluted, so there’s not much to say.
I don’t know why I am responding right now. It’s an itch I can’t scratch.
I suppose there’s no reason to write this. My ramblings indicate as much.
I pull away.
Images of him standing above me after striking my assailant infest my mind. It had been a night when my father took me on a bizarre journey, one that we never made it to our destination. Lawrence had been put in charge of me that night, as if I were some young maiden who couldn’t read signs or think for herself.
Another fiber snaps from the rope that makes me who I am. Beingmindedlike an adolescent. Women my age have had multiple children by now. I nearly drip purple onto the parchment from holding my hand in one place for too long, the little drop hitting the wood to form a bright, beautiful bubble of color.
I know why I rambled—I wanted to admit to Kane that he haunts me.
But under no circumstances does he need to know that.
Anyway, perhaps I am merely pulled to you because of the novelty. That would make sense. There’s not much for us to discuss, either. So this will probably be the last.
Victoria
The words are completely pointless. Empty. Not even scratching the surface of what this man does to me. Of how I dream about him, much to my own frustration. How I have always heard terrible tides of the Unseelie and their darker magics. There’s a reason why the Seelie have all but banned them from all of our lands.
No, I know why I penned him.
I want out of here.
If I cannot live within the light, I may as well embrace the darkness. Forge a new identity where I can have the friendships, love, heartache—all of it—that I crave. Silas, myadoptivefather, never permits me to touch him, even if he fondly hugs his other children. I genuinely do not remember the last embrace I had.
Standing, I pace my room.
The room forced upon me.
It’s a collage of gray stone, broken up by furniture that’s painted the color of the sky, the fabrics a mixture of creams and fuchsias.
Regardless of what is best, I seal up the letter and place it within a book. Writing to Kane is tasting a part of freedom I can’t describe.
The Carrows are allowed a rather lofty library. It’s a prison colony island that the regents of our world will visit to acquire men or women to serve in their ranks. It’s akin to visiting a pen full of rabid, wild beasts who are gifted freedom in exchange for their servitude.
Books still ship there, many desiring to have well-educated members within their ranks. Noble knights can only get so much done in a world that’s overrun with corruption and death. A ruthless mercenary is sometimes the only salvation, and an educated one is even better. At least, sometimes. If they break that oath to serve, a bounty will be placed on their heads. One that’s usuallytoolucrative to remain free for long.
If they fail, then the duskborn will hunt them down. They’re the only ones of their kind that existamongthe Seelie.
Kane is now among those people.
The candle chandelier above me shakes when thunder booms across the sky. I lie down on my bed, feeling achangehappening. Perhaps I won’t be here for long. I’ve lived here for over thirty summers.
Toolong.
