Page 25 of In the Ravenous Dark
His lips twist the slightest bit. “It’s not for you to say. Come, Kineas, what do you think?”
“I haven’t thought much of anything about her,” Kineas says, not even looking my way.
“And why would he?” my father says at my side, his voice deadly quiet.
Crown Prince Tyros turns on him with patient relish, like the blight’s ice freezing the oceans. “Only that Kineas is a good judge of flesh—horseflesh, at least. He always knows where to match a good broodmare. We must decide what to do with the girl.”
Kineas smirks, Lydea gazes coolly at her father, and Delphia faces the floor as if trying to melt into it. I wonder if she learned that tactic from her mother. Japha, on the other hand, has a gleam in their eyes that I would almost call dangerous… but it’s nothing compared to the sound of my father’s voice:
“You will decide no such thing.”
“Oh?” Tyros says, utterly unconcerned.
“No.”
“That’s unfortunate. You see, I might already have plans for her.”
The words make me boil, both nauseating and infuriating. Thedead man warned me againstdoinganything rash, but not necessarily against speaking.
“Those might conflict withmyplans,” I say cheerfully, “which involve you choking at your earliest convenience.”
“Rovan!” my father croaks.
Lydea sounds as ifshe’schoking for a moment. Delphia actually gasps, while Kineas gapes like a fish, making him look far less attractive than he is, which I take a moment to appreciate. The crown prince, with his cracked-marble face, simply stares at me. I stare right back.
My father places a protective hand on my arm. “Your Highness, she didn’t mean it.”
Tyros exhales a slow breath out his nose. “I see she is uncivilized, untrained. She will learn. I would strike her myself if it wouldn’t soil my person on this blessed occasion. And ordering one of my men to strike her would create too much of a vulgar stir at a feast honoring my father’s descent into twilight. Fortunately, it seems, he’s too ill to be here tonight. So,” he adds, almost lightly, “Ivrilos. Hurt her. Quietly.”
My guardian appears at my side before I can blink. His eyes are sharp, heated.
“Ivrilos—” my father begins, pleading, but the dead man cuts him off.
“That was your idea of restraint?” he snaps at me. “I would tell you to remind the crown prince that I don’t answer to him, but that would only challenge him to get more creative with your punishment. You leave me no choice.”
Before I can wonder towhomthe dead man answers, he bends far too quickly for me to dodge, dipping his mouth alongside my ear. His words, quieter than a whisper, keep me from jerking away. “This is where you gasp as if you’re in pain.” A heartbeat passes as I’m too stunned to react. “Do it!”
And then I feel it: a pinch on the back of my arm, hard enough to make me jump and elicit the gasp he wants, but not hard enough to really hurt.
The dead man can hurt his wards in ways I don’t yet understand—some of which I witnessed with my father—and yet he justpinchedme? I was expecting something much worse. Icy hands of death chilling me to the bone, gouging into my flesh, sucking the life out of me, or…anythingelse.
Before I can burst into hysterical giggles, my brain finally catches up. He’s trying to help me. Toavoidhurting me. I won’t argue with that, even if I won’t thank him for it. I add a low moan and a near swoon on the heels of my gasp, though I don’t have to reach far for the swoon. I’m suddenly dizzy, and have no idea why. Maybe even from a touch so light as a pinch? My father steadies me.
He, himself, doesn’t know I’ve mostly faked my reaction. He looks furious. But he doesn’t say anything.
“You and Ivrilos both must teach her to behave,” the crown prince says to him. “The sooner the better. After all, think of her future. Think of her mother.”
The threat is barely veiled, as practiced as a fighter resting a hand on their sword. The base of my spine grows cold. Still, we can’t just stand here and do nothing while this man does whatever he wishes with us. At the very least, we can talk back to him. I turn to my father, practically begging him with a look.
But he bows his head, eyes downcast. “Yes, Your Highness.”
I can’t believe it.Thisis the man who nearly died to protect me, now allowing me to be punished with barely a protest? Accepting a threat to my mother? Bowing his head to the family that had destroyed our lives, and the lives of so many he loved?
Tyros moves away without another word, turning his back on us. Something churns in the pit of my stomach. It’s the knowledge that while my father once fought for me, he hasalsolived inthis palace for nearly thirteen years. He’s been taught to behave. To bow.
He’s a man who no longer fights. Out of fear for me and my mother, yes. But his fear has made him weak.
My father turns away from me, too, as if he can see the judgment written in my face, a sigil spelling out my shame. He thumps his way down the dais steps, leaving me. Again. I can only stare after him and hope that tears aren’t forming in my eyes. Kineas smirks at me.
