Page 251 of The Poison Daughter
He slaps his hand on the table. “You can’t comprehend the hard choices that I’ve made. You think you’re so much better than us!”
I lean back in my chair and wave my hand in dismissal. “Divine deliver us. I don’t think I’m better than you. I’m just no longer afraid I can’t survive you.”
He tries to lift his glass, and it clatters to the table, spilling dregs of the amber liquid across the dark wood tabletop.
Both of my parents struggle helplessly in their seats, and I watch the recognition dawn in their eyes. My father reaches for the bell to ring the servants, but he’s slow and clumsy and he just knocks it onto the floor with a loud clang.
I fake a pout. “It’s no matter anyway. The staff have all left for the evening to enjoy the festival. Or did you not notice they didn’t return to refill your cups?”
“What the fuck did you do?” My father’s body is slow, but his words are only a little bit slurred.
“I was always curious if you two would see me as enough of a threat that you’d condition yourselves to poisons.” I lean forward on my elbow and push my bottom lip out farther. “I’m a little offended that you didn’t. But the good news is that I learned about Stellarium Blossoms while I was in Mountain Haven. I never knew they had a paralytic effect.”
They both begin to struggle harder.
“Want to know something fun I’ve never told you about my magic?” I ask. “I can help direct what the poisons do. Isn’t that interesting? I can direct it to prevent your magic, legs, and arms from working so that you can still breathe, but you’ll remain a captive audience.” I take a long sip of my wine and watch them both struggle to summon their magic. “Oh, silly me. I also channeled some Polm’s Opus. It allows me to influence you. I just don’t want you to use your power—at least not right now.”
Some dark part of me enjoys watching them struggle in earnest.
“How can you be so disloyal?” my father barks.
“You dare to speak to me about loyalty?” My laughter crackles, brittle. “The only person I have been disloyal to is myself. I have lied and fought and fucked for this family, and I still lost the only one of you who actually cared about me. I owe you nothing.”
I keep waiting to reach the bottom of my anger, but it only grows. I thought that this would be enough, but I still feel a cavernous emptiness in my chest. Making them suffer won’t bring Aidia back, and it won’t heal the parts of me still haunted by their violence, but I hoped at least in this moment that I would feel some sense of satisfaction.
The dining room door flies open and slams into the wall. Kellan rushes into the room.
“There’s my favorite brother.” I pat the seat next to me and smile. “Perfect timing. I was worried your soup would get cold.”
60
HARLOW
Kellan eyes me skeptically, his body coiled in tension as he looks at the scene before him. “Why is the house empty?”
“I gave the staff the night off to enjoy the festival, but don’t worry. They’ve laid out all the courses.” I pat the seat beside me again. “Sit.”
He rounds the table slowly, clearly aware that something is wrong but still not sure what.
“We were just discussing how our father had plans to marry me off to Rafe before he found a way to get rid of him,” I say, sipping my wine.
Kellan looks warily from me to our parents.
I shove the spoon into his hand and remove the cover from his bowl. Steam wafts up from the beautiful, delicate bowl, but Kellan just stares at it.
“Now, where was I?” I ask my father. “Oh, that’s right. I was going to ask you why you allowed Rafe to make me kill my sister.”
“That was months ago,” my father slurs.
I bark a loud laugh. “So, naturally, I should be fine with it by now?”
“He wasn’t supposed to make you jump—either of you,” my father says. “He was just supposed to scare you straight, so you would stop interfering in their relationship.”
I throw my soup across the table. It crashes into his chest and spillsdown his front. “I was checking on my sister, who was regularly being beaten bloody.”
My father looks to Kellan. “Do something.”
My brother remains seated, stirring his spoon around the bowl as he watches me. “I think we should hear her out.”
