Page 4 of Courting the Fae Captain
I licked my lips, then spied a carafe of water on the bedside table. The pain in my leg flared as I tried to sit up, only to find a heavy chain binding my wrist to the bedpost.
“Are youfuckingkidding me?”
My father’s gaze met mine, cold and unyielding. A cruel smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Did you really think you’d get away so easily, dearest? I must admit, your determination surprised me. I had every exit covered, expecting a final escape attempt, but I didn’t think to have eyes on the walls.”
“Extreme measures had to be taken, though I see now that runs in the family.” I looked pointedly at my leg before glowering at him. “You could have killed me.”The arrow in my leg had been removed whilst I was asleep, but a gaping, ugly wound had been left in its place. They hadn’t even bothered to bandage it.Pricks.
He flicked his wrist impatiently. “The bolt to the leg was a calculated shot and far from life-threatening. I would do it ten times over if it meant you one day learned your place.”
“And by that, you mean beneath you. Little better than a worm under your boot.”
His nostrils flared, and he sighed. “You’ve a knack for testing my patience, Aeris, but fleeing the castle before the most important event of your life is beyond my limits. Like it or not, youwilldo your duty to this family.”
“You don’t need me to enter the Rite,” I seethed. “You have enough wealth and power to preserve your position in this realm for many lifetimes. Why must I be bartered like paltry goods and treated like damn cattle? I am not property, Father. I refuse to be sold like it.”
“That’s exactly what you are, Aeris. Most females in your position would be overjoyed at the prospect of a safe and comfortable future on the arm of a powerful male. You will want for nothing. In return, I will gain everything.”
The wound in my leg burned as I shifted suddenly, pulling at my restraint as I bared my teeth at my father. “Safe? That’s rich, coming from the male who would send his only daughter into a viper’s nest. I don’t know what the Rite consists of, Father, but I do know the females who lose are never heard from again. How will you feel about losing your ‘asset’ then?”
He eyed me distastefully, like he was bored with this discussion. “I would be disappointed, but losing you is a risk I’m willing to take.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks. He’d always been a cold, hard male. He’d never shown me love or affection, only pain and suffering. Even now, after everything he’d done, there was a part of me that had hoped he’d one day change. Yet to hear him talk about my life so nonchalantly…
“You’re a monster. Worse than a monster. It’s no wonder Mother—” His knuckles cracked against my jaw before I could finish the sentence.
“Enough! You embarrass me, and you embarrass yourself. This childish notion of freedom ends today. Tomorrow, you will be shipped off to the Rite, where you will perform admirably and win Captain Windaire’s hand. Disobey me or concoct any other foolish plans, and I will see you remain in chains permanently.”
Blood welled from where I’d bitten my tongue, and I spat it on his pristine white shirt with a defiant grin. His blue eyesnarrowed to slits as he rose and towered over me. I half expected him to strangle me then and there, but a timely knock sounded on the door.
He gave me a warning look before smoothing his hair back and straightening his shirt. “Enter.”
A pretty girl strode in, curtsied to my father with practised grace, and planted her gaze firmly on the floor before him. I didn’t fail to note her careful avoidance of the blood on his shirt, nor the evidence of it dribbling down my chin. “You rang for a healer? I can come back at another time if it pleases you.”
“No,” he said calmly, all traces of his prior rage gone. “Go about your work. See that she is unmarked. I want her to look radiant before she leaves in the morning.”
She nodded. “As you wish.”
He left with a final threatening glance at me. I supposed there wasn’t much else to say. Not much else I would ever want to say to that gods-awful male. He had fired a bolt at his own daughter, had locked me up like a criminal and taken away any hope of me ever leading a life worth living. No, what he’d done to me was the final nail in the coffin. If I never saw him again, it would be a blessing. I would mourn the life he stole from me, but if the gods struck him down, I would not mourn him.
I’m not sure why I ever bothered to hope for a miraculous attitude adjustment. I’d been imprisoned long before he’d wrapped a physical chain around my wrist. I didn’t love the male. Ever since my mother left all those years ago, and Avadir had been taken, I hadn’t felt any semblance of the word at all. I was alone. Truly and utterly alone. Not that I was going to let myself drown in self-pity. I might have lost the battle today, but I was sure as shit not going to lose the war. Father wanted me to endure the Rite? Fine, I had been playing games all my life, anyway. What was another?
“Does he do that to you often?” The healer’s lovely voice seemed too loud in my chamber. Too … daring. She’d be whipped or worse if anyone heard her boldness. And these walls surely had eyes and ears this night, keenly lurking and listening.
I shrugged. “Sometimes. Behind closed doors, when no one can see him for what he truly is. You could be hanged for even asking that, you know.”
She smiled. “If they executed every outspoken healer, there’d be no one left to mend them. Not much use having fancy estates and positions of power if one isn’t around to use them.”
I smirked, then winced at the bruise already blooming under the tender skin of my face. “To need mending would require the owner of said finery dirtying their hands in the first place. That’s what lackeys are for.”
She snorted, rather unladylike, and bent over my leg to assess the injury. “So, what did you do to deserve this?” The flourish of her hand did not match the disgust painted on her face. “The castle is in an uproar, so I’ve heard whispers, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
Her blonde braid tipped over her shoulder; her brown eyes focused wholly on inspecting the wound in a calculating manner. She couldn’t have been much older than me, which meant she must have been very good at her work to be attending the lords and ladies of the likes of my father’s status. An ambitious one. I liked that. I wondered if her powers had anything to do with it, not that healing was a common gift among my kind. Our creators were dark creatures of chaos. The goddess Ryvia delighted in the spilling of blood, not preserving it. Still, magic worked in wondrous ways, never failing to surprise with its uniqueness among individuals.
I contemplated the four courts and their classes. The healer was likely a Blood Mage, if her power had any bearing on herprofession. The fact that she had no supplies on hand only supported that theory.
“I tried to fly,” I answered softly. “So he clipped my wings.”
She remained silent, so I watched in fascination as her hands cupped over my wound. Her lids closed, her brow furrowing as she concentrated. Red flared from beneath her palms, highlighting the veins pulsing under my skin before fading once more. When she removed her hands, the skin was as smooth as a baby’s. I marvelled at her work, seemingly so effortless, but a closer look at her face showed the slightest hint of fatigue from the act.
