Page 44 of Hair, She Bears
Mother glared at Zenna, holding her gaze, a dark smile flitted across his face, then smashed his foot to the stones, shattering Carlyle’s leg with a nauseating crunch. Carlyle groaned, his teeth grinding together, and vanished. The only indication of his presence was a small pool of blood near the sofa.
“Why did you do that?” Her gaze flicked between the crimson stain and Mother’s gleeful face.
“Compassion for a lesser creature?” He laughed, the harsh sound echoed in Zenna’s mind. “I can assure you, Carlyle would feel no such thing for you.”
“I don’t care, I am not a monster.”
Mother yanked her from the stool, his fingers constricting around her throat, and slammed her onto the sofa, pinning her beneath his bulk. She kicked her legs but could not throw Mother off her body.
“Who moved the sofa?” He snarled, his face an inch from hers.
“I did.” She snapped her teeth at his nose, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, his fingers crushed her throat, pushing down until black spots danced in front of Zenna’s eyes. She clawed at him, gouging a chunk out of his hand. He hissed and lifted his finger to his mouth, sucking on his knuckle. When he removed the digit, blood gathered in an open wound. He grinned, and terror rolled through her body.
Grasping her wrists, he anchored them above her head with his free hand. Leaning forward, he dragged his cut knuckle over her lips, staining her skin with blood.
“I asked you a question.”
“I gave you an answer.” She shuddered, jerking her face away. Mother grabbed her face, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.
“It was not the one I wanted to hear,” Mother whispered, the hairs of his beard scratching her chin. His tongue flicked out, touching her cheek. He licked a slow trail up her face. “You’re not strong enough to push it out of the way. Who helped you?”
“No one.”
“Liar!” Mother’s hand whipped across her face. She cried out as pain exploded in her jaw, her body twitched. A dark shadow crossed Mother’s face. He reached between them, his hand sliding intimately down her body. “I’m going to enjoy extracting the truth from you.”
A loud caw echoed in the tower. The raven soared through the open window, aiming for his father’s head. Mother yelled and rolled to the side, falling to the floor with a grunt. Malik dove a second time, his sharp beak sliced a long gash across Mother’s forehead.
Zenna scrambled from the sofa, dashed around the worktable, and knelt. Yanking her knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh, she raised the weapon and pointed it at Mother’s undulating form.
“What the hell!” Climbing to his feet, Mother swung his fists at the raven as it plummeted from the rafters. It avoided his arms, left a gash in his cheek—underlining his right eye—and cut a hard turn in front of the window. Malik ascended, level with the loft before he descended again for a second attack. Mother covered his head and ducked, cursing at the bird.
Landing on the edge of the mortar, the raven cawed and pecked the bowl, its sharp beak chiseling a piece from the side. The chunk fell to the worktable with a clink, and Mother’s eyes narrowed.
“Malik, I’m surprised at your tenacity.” He waved his hand, drawing an intricate design in the air. “Speak.”
“Don’t touch her!” Malik’s deep voice rolled through the room, emanating from the raven.
“She is not your concern.”
“I love her.”
Mother snorted. “Love has made you weak. What has it done for you… cursed to be a bird for the rest of your life?”
“Any curse I suffer from is due to my vindictive father.” Malik snapped his beak.
“Careful, Malik. I have been generous with you until now. You don’t want to see my bad side.” Mother took a step toward the worktable. “How did you get out of your cage?”
“I pecked the lock.”
“Clever.” A note of pride swelled in Mother’s voice. His gaze swept over the tower, and blackness seeped into his eyes when he discovered Zenna crouched behind the worktable, her knife drawn. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the spot directly in front of him.
Zenna rose, set the knife beside the mortar, and approached Mother, each hesitant step on a wave of fear. She paused in front of her stool and swallowed.
“Closer.”
Nodding, Zenna inched closer. Mother’s hand whipped out, clamped down on her wrist, yanked her to him, then spun her around to face Malik. Crossing his arm over her chest, he pinned her body to his and pressed a rough kiss to her temple.
“Was she worth it, Malik? If I fucked her, would I give up my kingdom too?”
