RAVAGED HEARTS | CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
WHEN BLINDFOLDED, THE only sense you could truly rely on was sound, unless you were going through the sewers, which Io could only assume was not the way to her father's den. So she listened carefully to the sound of birds, to the sound of the material under her foot. Every time she passed by what felt like a flock of birds she made sure to give a bit of a struggle. They might just pass it onto Louis. That was one of her only ways out right now.
The end of the street turned out to be a five minute walk, though it might be because they paused every few seconds since it was awfully inconvenient to bring around a blindfolded girl in broad daylight, even if the neighbourhood did seem quite vacant at the hour.
She felt the turn, heard the creakings of an opening metal gate and the steps beneath her turned from brick into unsmooth stone. She sucked in a quiet breath. This was it. All her life seemed to come down to this. All these years of pain and anguish and abandonment was because of this man. The same man who gave her her life. Who so, so, so clearly saw it as a mistake.
She wanted to make him pay. Huan wo wu gu de mu qin yi ge gong dao. She wanted justice for her mother, Dominique Min. Who'd done nothing to deserve her fate.
Knocks. The door opened. There was silence.
Then, a man's voice, hoarse, slightly in awe, slightly fearful, in power all the same, speaking in Saian: "And you must be Iolanthe Mi. Welcome home, daughter."
-♡-
"THE LAST TIME I saw you you were two." She felt herself being led towards the centre of a room, lowered into a chair, bound by rope. A moment later, the blindfold was removed from her head.
She hadn't seen him since she was barely a babe, and she'd been too young to remember his face properly. How old was he now? Fifty? It was obvious in the lines on his face. He was no longer the dashing rake of his youth. The wickedness was visible now, clearly written and displayed. Time had taken a toll on him, as had aging. His clothes were old and ragged but still clearly marked with poshness of the upper class. He wore western clothes rather than Saian robes, a white silk shirt with black trousers. Hair once black had turned grey, though still neatly trimmed, and his eyes were cold and hard–that hadn't changed.
He said then, "You have your mother's eyes."
"She's my mother," Io snapped, "I take after her. It's only natural."
"You have my chin." He sounded like some connoisseur inspecting art. She hated the feeling of being on display.
"I wish I fucking didn't."
"Do not be crude," he chided. Io was then abruptly aware that Seo and Voronin were still in the room. The prince turned to them. "Leave us. I wish to speak to my daughter alone."
"Your Highness—"
"You would deny an old man a few moments of privacy with his long lost daughter?" the prince commanded. Years hadn't taken away the natural air of commandery usual of a royal child. Voronin and Seo took a step back, lowering their heads.
"Of course, Your Highness."
And just like that they were alone in the parlour. Io met her father's eyes. "They say you wanted to see me."
"Is it that shocking? For a father to wish to see their child?"
"If you wanted to see me," Io said, acid in her voice, "maybe you shouldn't have killed my mother. Maybe you should have taken me in and accepted me as your bloody child in the first place."
"Who said I didn't accept you?"
Io raised her head. "You barely knew I existed."
"Oh, I knew you existed." He stood up, rubbing his hands together and sighing. "It just hadn't seemed all that important to me back then. We were fighting a rebellion, dealing with so many things. A child didn't seem like something on the top of my priority list."
Io just threw her head back and laughed. She didn't bother hiding the bitterness, the rage. He didn't deserve her sugarcoating. She'd been a mistake, an unwanted child. She knew that. He did not need to lie about it now. It wouldn't make her feel better, it would make her feel worse. She did not want to feel sympathy for this monster.
"You didn't care. At all."
"I didn't. I was twenty-six, girl, I was stupid."
"We all use that excuse. I use that excuse all the time for what I did when I was eighteen. But you weren't some stupid teenager. I'm one year younger than you were then and I wouldn't have done half the shit you did."
"Would you really?" He tilted his head. "You're not looking at things from my direction."
"I don't think I want to look at your shit from your direction. Doesn't seem very wise, considering where you are standing now."
"No one can change the fate of a dynasty," he replied calmly, slowly sitting down. He wasn't what she expected. She was expecting him to be a lot more... volatile. Unpredictable, cruel, ruthless. A cunning villain, not a... guilt-ridden father. "I made mistakes. Many mistakes. I freely admit it."
"Admitting it now does nothing. It does not bring my mother, my innocent mother back to life."
"She was not innocent. She was a spy. I had to dispose of her. I gave her opportunities to turn away from her life, you know, I gave her choices. But after a while you run out of them and you're left with nothing else to do. I was fond of her."
"Not enough to spare her life."
Silence as daughter's eye met father's. One full of hate, one full of sadness. Fucking bastard. Zi zuo nie bu ke huo. All of these were the consequences of his own actions. He should have seen this coming. If he hadn't, that was his problem not hers.
Io continued, "Not enough to take her as your official concubine or consort even though it would have been perfectly accepted then."
He lowered his head.
"Not enough to recognise me as your legitimate daughter even though you knew perfectly well I existed."
His eyes shut. Io's voice was trembling slightly as she spat out, "Not enough to care for me when you killed my mother right in front of my eyes."
"You weren't supposed to be there that night."
"Were you going to have me discover her corpse, then? Rather than see your agents take her life with my own eyes?"
"You were never supposed to know."
And that's when Io got it. And it sickened her to the very core. "You were just going to kill her and adopt me as your child, weren't you? You weren't even going to let me know how she died. Or if she died at all. Were you going to adopt me as your child, or did you just want me to be a yahuan at your fu?"
"I was going to say you were the daughter of a late friend."
"Why not just take my mother in as your concubine? Or admit I was your own child? I'd just be your xu nv. You were high rank enough I'd still have been a duolun gege. I'd have been treated with respect."
Her father shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? All these years playing spy in these games of politics and you don't get it. I was the brother to the emperor. I was a qinwang. My hand in marriage would be important. I already had a... reputation—" he grimaced "—and a xu nv would have made my hand in marriage seem even more unattractive. Your uncle already had a difujin, he could not take another wife, and any noblemen anywhere worth their salt would not allow their daughters to become a mere concubine. If we needed to make marriage alliances it would have been through me. I'd have adopted you as my own, you'd have been made duolun gege in the least. Not that it would have meant much, a princess of an ailing, fallen dynasty... but don't think I didn't care."
Io's stomach twisted. "Stop guilt-tripping me. If you cared you'd have come to find me long ago."
"I wasn't sure you'd survive for years, you know. I sent people that night to try and find you, you weren't anywhere."
"My aunt had taken me away to Asayama."
"Ah," the prince nodded, looking awfully thoughtful. "Makes sense. I never searched there. I checked Cheonuang, of course, since your mother has family there, and it seemed the obvious choice. Nothing. They didn't even know you existed—did you know you have two half-siblings from your mother? Just a few years older than you."
"I'm quite close to them."
The prince nodded again. "Good, good. At least you've had some family through all these years?"
Io glared, not responding. She'd already used up enough words on him. She dearly hoped the others would realise something was wrong and come to seek her soon. Sitting here, listening to him lie through his teeth... it was an excruciating process.
"You hate me."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"You think I'm a monster."
"You are a monster," she shot back with vengeance. He was a monster, monster, monster. He killed her mother, destroyed her childhood, and might as well have killed her aunt too. He was a murderer. He was the reason she was born and the reason for her ruin.
"No more than you, I'd think? I've heard about your exploits. You've taken plenty of lives, broken apart many families. Last I heard you were quite the little seductress as well, eh? Bringing men astray... much like your mother."
"I'm proud to take after her."
"Do you want to know her problem?" he asked, tilting his head as he sat down on the sofa opposite her chair. "I've had many years to think about this. I haven't had much to do in the past twenty years or so except have my own mind as company. Some days I'm impressed I haven't gone mad yet."
When Io didn't say anything in response, he sighed. "Stubbornness, daughter, and blind loyalty. Woman of her blood, of your blood, you don't know when to give up. You'd rather lose your life fighting for a cause you don't even really believe in out of some innate, mistakenly-placed sense of responsibility, and you more often than not do give your life for it." He paused. "I don't want you to follow your mother's path."
"She didn't have to walk the path until you forced her to. And you don't have a say in what I do." She raised her chin.
"You really don't get it, do you, Iolanthe?" the prince asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be alive right now. Voronin and Seo would have taken you into the nearest alley, slit your throat and let you bleed out painfully. You're sitting here now, talking to me because I asked them to keep you that way."
"Is that a threat?"
Her father shook his head. "I don't kill my own blood."
"I'm touched, old man."
"You, daughter," he announced, "is exactly what I expected. A splitting image of your mother. The attitude, your appearance, your personality. She'd be proud of who you are today, probably."
"If not for you, she could be here right now, being proud of me. Thanks for that, by the way."
"She would have died anyway, with or without me. My brother's agents had already been on her at that point. I gave her a much more merciful end than they'd originally planned."
"Mercy?" Io asked, half incredulous, half horrified. "You couldn't have... helped her escape instead? Or simply casted her away as your mistress if you knew what she was? You killed her. You gave the orders, the agents were yours. You killed her. You killed the mother of your child."
"If I helped her escape, if I did not produce a corpse, I'd have been casted under suspicion. I could not have had that happening. My brother would have been the most displeased."
"You know your problem?" Io asked, sucking in an angry breath. "You want to know your problem, qinwang?"
"Fuqin. I am your father. Do not call me by my title. Call me your father."
"You're selfish. You're completely, utterly selfish. You don't give a bullcrap for anyone else. We're all tools to you, things to be used. You never cared. You still don't care. You say you care but everything you do you do for yourself."
Her father was unfazed. He'd been expecting it, she realised, fully expecting the outburst and the words that came out of her mouth. He replied, drawling, "Is that not how the world works? There are the survivors, who choose to be selfish; and those who decide to be selfless. Would you rather live or die?"
"You can survive without being as selfish as you," Io seethed. "If you're unable to see how, that's your problem. That is what's wrong with you."
"You're young. Give it a few years, you'll learn." Her father sounded exasperated. "We all do. Twenty-five this year, eh? We haven't seen each other for twenty-three years. That's a lot of time. So many countries have fallen and risen in that time."
"The one you're currently helping is one of them."
"Melique? No, no, I'm not precisely helping them. They're more... hiring me, I suppose. I need money, you see, I ran out a while ago. They have money. If it means helping them hold two kids, I'll do it.'
"Where are they?"
He held up his hands and spread his fingers. "Ah, they're fine, yes? All Bailen needs to do is step out of the presidential race and his children go free." A snap of his fingers echoed through the otherwise quiet room. "Just like that. So simple. Will he give up his political ambition and power for the life of his children? Or will he decide to be selfless? Such a moral dilemma."
"They're children."
"We were all children once." He tugged at his white shirt. "The state of being a child is not a shield against the cruelty, politics and dangers of the rest of the world. In fact it only makes you even more of a target."
"You make me sick."
"No. I've heard much about you, child, and I think we're far more alike than you think. Actually, you do know it, you just don't want to admit it." Their eyes met again. This time there was steel in both of their gazes. Like father, like daughter.
He was right. She couldn't deny whose blood ran in her veins. It was part of her. Nothing could change that.
She was the bastard daughter of a spy who played courtesan and a disgraced prince of a fallen dynasty. She was nothing and everything. She was insignificant and important. She was Iolanthe Mi, the Swan, and it was time she settled everything once and for all.
It was then she heard the bullets.