RISING (#2, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 127

"Not yet."

"Then the Kinslayer isn't here. You'd have found it if it were."

"Either way," I retorted, glancing back at him, not caring to confirm it, nor look too closely into the shadowy part of my mind that whispered I was avoiding the truth, it was here. "I've got orders to keep hunting for it until Sirro gets back." Maybe. I still had no fucking idea what the Horned Gods was saying to me when the phone line kept cracking in and out.

"You can use the Szaravases as your base much like the Deniauds'. They share the same forest." He gave an indifferent wave of his calloused fingers. "It's not like they're in the next state." As I bent over and unzipped my weapons bag, storing my bandoleer and swords away, in the corner of my eye I caught him giving a cursory glance around the room at my personal effects. "You'll arrange with one of the servants to have your things packed up, and you'll meet us at the Szarvases' tomorrow evening. We'll be staying for the week. Marton has invited us to stay on and celebrate Cernesses forerunners crossing the sky with his family."

I snapped straight, spinning around to face him fully. "A week?" There was no fucking way I was going to be there at all.

I began to shake my head when he shoved a finger at me, his thin lips curling back to bare his teeth. "Don't you dare cross me on this Varen. You fail to show yourself tomorrow and don't think I won't drag you there myself by the scruff of your godsdamned neck!"

My rage exploded like a blazing inferno. "I'm not signing the Contract of Intentions. I'm not marrying Irma!"

The cords on my father's thick neck strained with his rage, distorting the tattoos curving up the weathered skin. "There's no way out of this, Varen. You will not defy me. Your marriage will ensure we become an Upper—"

"I'm not in love with her!"

"I don't give a damn if you are or aren't!" he snapped, pale violet eyes narrowing to slits. "Hardly anyone is when they first marry—"

"You loved Mamãe!"

"I would have married your mother no matter what," he enunciated clearly and coldly, "because I was doing it for my family and my House, as you will do this for me since you are my heir!"

"I'm not doing it!" I roared. My anger reverberated through the room and rattled window panes.

It was on the tip of my tongue—I'm in love with someone else!

And I damn well was going to have Tabitha in my life, always.

And a moment of stark clarity reminded me that this was my father. I left my wish unspoken because Jeroen was so desperately hungry for us to move upward through the ranks. He'd do anything to get what he wanted, and that included ridding himself of anyone seen as a threat.

Jeroen's face went white and his eyes went wild. "YOU WILL!"

He lunged—

But I was just as fucked off, strong and fast—

We collided in two steps, both of us descending into bloodthirst.

Our fists slung at one another in a rain of blows and spitting rage.

His jaw snapped sideways—

My chin cuffed upward—

I rammed into him with a shoulder, sending him flying into the far wall.

Porcelain swans smashed—

Macrame artwork unraveled—

The cowhide rug slid about underfoot as we surged forward and clashed and unleashed upon one another. Heaving breaths and gruff grunts. Ugly smacks of fists and bellows of fury.