We Promised

Chapter 11

I still have scars from our wretched father, and so does Blayne. Blayne however, reacts differently. He tenses, clenching his fists as if our Father is present in the room with us as if he could fight him. Evelyn sighs at our reactions and I bite my tongue as hard as I can. She always was his favorite, not Athena, Blayne, Corbin, or me. It was always Evelyn, the golden child. While we flinch at his name, his presence, and even the shadows where we think he might linger, she only drifts to a faraway gaze, remembering our screams when they echoed through the halls. Athena by the grace of God, was only an infant when Father left. He didn't have time to turn her innocence into something frayed and decayed, like me and my brothers.

If anything, the trauma brought us all closer together, a link impossible to sever. However, we'll see when the time comes to decide. Blood can turn solid and cold, I remind myself. When the revolution grows to take the reins of this very castle before me, I will be forced to decide. Join the Bloods and either be forced to turn against the siblings around me or defend them as hell burns around us, closing in to swallow us along with everything our ancestors and our mother, nonetheless, built. I fight the words rising in my throat, so I don't shout at her. Instead, I shout in my head. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT WE WENT THROUGH! YOU IGNORED IT! COWER AT HIS NAME! The words are useless in my head, so I send daggers through my stare. She meets my eyes with the same intensity, throwing the past back in my face, and the flesh tears at my palms as my nails dig into them. I'm sure I can see the imprints of the cut skin on my hands, but not as many marks as I want to plant on Evelyn. She was never one with fights. She's only strong with words that can cut, slice, and rip apart like knives. "Well?" I say, my voice straining as the words push through my teeth. "Othus has fallen and so has Rusmia. We won't be traveling there as the air is contaminated with pollution and debris from bombs and fires." Unlike my other siblings, I earned both the cold voice of my mother and the fight behind them from my father. Evelyn takes a step back and red clouds my sight. I know I will kill her if I don't control myself, government be damned. My eyes flare green in her eyes, casting the room in a pale sage hue. "You kept this from us for how long? How long, Evelyn?!" I snarl the words, spitting them at her. Blayne shifts to my side, ready to reach out and grab me if he needs to. I tower over her, looking into her light green eyes. She does not show fear, only caution. "Since I was old enough to study and attend court." A sick laugh escapes me and I place my hand on my lips. Five years. My Father is without a doubt, included in this hidden truth. "Let me guess, it was Father's idea to keep it from us?" She does not speak, and her silence triggers me all the more. That tells me all I need to know. "So you are with him? The father who abandoned us? The father who arranged to kill you on your coronation day?" She steps back, and her shock is something I relish. "How do you know about that?" Her whisper is quiet, so quiet I think I might miss what she said. "You knew?!" I yell. I stare at her, begging for an explanation that I know will not come.

I let her betrayal settle deep in my stomach, like acid. The feeling burns, and I need to release my anger, I need to do something. Before I can stop myself, I place flesh under my hand. A streak of red, crimson blood trails down her chin. I'm glad that I drew blood, I needed to see it. Blayne is strong, I know this. He pins my arms to my sides, to keep me from doing something I'll regret. He is strong, yes, but he's no match for my anger. I shove him to the ground with all my force, knowing the brute power of his muscles all too well. He may be stronger, but he's not faster. He's not fast enough to catch me.

I run, not knowing where my feet will take me. I'm used to this, letting my feet guide me. The action reminds me that I am free, that I can do what I want when I need to. I used to leave the castle at midnight, and when I was old enough, I visited a bar. I used to go there to know my people better and watch how they acted in the dark shadows where no one was controlling them. Now, it's an escape from my world. Tears brim over my eyes, and I wipe them away roughly, my cloak flying behind me as I speed through the Royal Gardens. I push back the fear of what will happen to me. Despite my position in the Royal Bloodline, I hit our Queen and drew blood. That usually results in a painful death.

A few words from Daddy sent years of blood and trauma uniting us, out the damn window. My sister has sliced me in my back, cutting the surface of my skin and leaving a deep gash where the pain is sinking in. She betrayed me, betrayed us. She betrayed her family for a snake, with blood and a title that that happened to be tied to ours. The Lord Mandos, or my father. Father of Ilvera, Blayne, Athena, Corbin, and Evelyn Oxuris. I sigh, placing my hand on the concrete wall of a fabric shop, attempting to steady myself.

The tavern is mostly empty, but it's been hours, so I haven't checked to see if anyone else has come inside. "Another, Jon." He fills my cup, the old man's palms smooth for his age. I met him when I was a child, the first time I attempted to come in here. He used to keep me out because I was 'too young to be in a bar'. Eventually, he let me in because I showed up at his door every night. I used to sit with him, and listen to his war stories, while I helped him fill bowls with nuts and fruits. I've known him for seven years now, and he has still kept my identity a secret among the thousands of people who walk in here. He looks at me with sympathy now. "What happened? Do I want to know?" I shake my head. "No. You don't." He grins at me, filling up another man's cup. He leaves me to think and I frown, following the rim of my cup with my finger.

I hesitantly tread over to the man in the gloaming of the tavern. Jon gives me a look, a look that says, behave yourself. The man hasn't touched his beer, and I note that he is surprisingly alert. Most people are tripping over themselves in here, or shouting while playing a game of darts. His posture reminds me of royal etiquette and it sends shivers down my spine. The Council can't be here this early. They come after the tour.

The Royal Families, and the Generals that occupy the countries we've controlled, they're hungry wolves. I'm not exactly excited that I'm going to see them again after so many years. I sit down in front of him, but he doesn't look up. He doesn't move at all. I don't stare at first but the color of his eyes catches my attention. Hazel eyes with a hint of honey fire, glowing golden in the lights. The strange sensation of heat emanates off of him as he finally looks at me. I look back at him with a menacing point of venom. He lifts his chin and I see more of his face. His jaw is defined with high cheekbones, and tan, sunburnt skin. He's not ugly, and all it does is bubble the simmering pot of rage that has been boiling inside me since I stepped into this tavern.

This bar is hidden, so that men can walk freely and drink, and laugh without being arrested for looking at someone wrong, especially around high-ranking people like me. I twist my title around in my head, seeing my life laid out for me. I can predict easily how my life will go. It is not something I want for myself. He watches me, amused by my presence. "Are you drunk?" Interesting. To me, he's a distraction in the chaos of my current world. I'm grateful for it. In response to his question, the air seems to tinge with heat and I shift uncomfortably. The heat disappears in an instant and it makes me wonder... nevermind. "Would you like to walk with me?" Another thing about him. He's very aware of the world around him. He knows I need a distraction. He noticed something was wrong with me and now he wants to distract me. He cares about the very gender that oppresses his rights. I speak without thinking like I usually do. "Okay." A grin grows on my face. A small smile tugs on his lips, and he gets up from his seat. I let him lead the way, giving myself the advantage to a worst-case scenario. He holds the door open for me and I fist the inside of my cloak. "Thank you."