Page 9 of Malevolent Hearts
If I could sit up, I would. “Stop pussyfooting around what happened. I need to know.”
He nods. “And you will, but not today.”
I should keep pushing, but determination lingers in Cadden’s eyes, and I know my attitude won’t get me anywhere. Besides, what good would knowing do? I am stuck here either way, and having all the facts might just drive me to the brink of insanity. For now, I have to believe everyone is okay—even if that means ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach that tells me otherwise. “Fine. I’ll drop it.” For now. “But only if you untie me.”
Five
Cadden
The Past
I do and I don’ts. What will it be?
A rebellious daughter and an uncrowned king.
Love’s a weakness. Power’s a game.
She and I are both the same.
—Cadden James Connelly
“This is not happening!” I glare at my father across the dining table, where he’s sitting next to Oliver Devereux with a shit-eating grin stretched across his smug face. “No fuckin’ way!”
“I’m sorry, son. But while you were out looking for Miss Beibhinn, we discussed your pending marriage at great length, and we’ve decided that you are a perfect pairing.”
“Your father told me a lot about the kind of man you are,” Oliver adds, making me wonder what exactly my father said. Did he paint me in the light he shines above me, or did he expose the shadows he keeps me under?
“My daughter needs someone who can keep up with her… unique personality.” His gaze flicks towards Beibhinn, who is glaring daggers across the table.
“With all due respect, Mr Devereux, your daughter is a fuckin’ nutcase.”
Ignoring my statement, Beibhinn cuts across me, directing her rage at her father. “And what?” She punctuates her question by waving her hand through the air. “No, let me guess… You believe this”—she hitches her thumb in my direction—“uptight wannabe gangster is up for the challenge.”
“Beibhinn Annabel Devereux,” he scolds her with a firm tone. “We spoke about this on the drive down. You know your place. Liam belongs in Killybegs, and you need to find a man of equal value. Cadden’s set to be a king, and he needs a strong woman next to him. You have the makings of a great queen, and by marrying Cadden, it will guarantee you become one.”
I try to ignore the fact that her initials literally spell BAD, but the words of the poem she set fire to come rushing to the forefront of my mind and knock the wind from my lungs.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love?—
I and my Annabel Lee?—
Fortunately, while I am busy swallowing my tongue, Beibhinn is quick to retaliate, forcing me to leave my thoughts behind. “This is bullshit! I don’t want to leave Killybegs, and I don’t want to be some pompous prick’s rent-a-vagina. Liam doesn’t even want this life, but I do. Yet here you are, shipping me off instead of allowing me to carry on the Devereux name in our own fucking sector.”
Oliver’s jaw tightens, and then through gritted teeth, he sends his daughter a warning that silences the room. “Watch your mouth, Beibhinn. The time for childish tantrums is gone. You will marry this boy when you turn eighteen. Like it or not, you don’t have a choice in the matter.”
Her next words are low, muttered under her breath for my ears only. “Fuck the patriarchy.” If I wasn’t so pissed at her little firebug antics earlier, I would have laughed at her assessment of the syndicate traditions. Beibhinn doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who’d deign to play a part in a man’s world. I don’t know her well enough to pinpoint her personality, but from what little I do know, she seems like she marches to her own beat, regardless of whether or not she’s in time to the music.
“So, it’s settled then. Beibhinn will become a Connelly.”
My hand whips towards the seat next to me, pointer finger locked and loaded, aimed at the psychopath to my left. “But, Dad!” I protest. “She’s fucking unhinged.”
“Speak for yourself,” Beibhinn grunts while murdering the carrot on her plate by jabbing it with her fork over and over, as if she’s envisioning my face. I don’t know what the hell this girl has against me, but her disdain is embedded in her every movement. It’s clear she doesn’t want any part of this facade, but there is nothing either of us can do to stop this. Arranged marriages are what the syndicate thrives on. By combining powerful families, even more powerful alliances are born. As the only heir, it is my duty. My job is to take over when I come of age and to do that, I need a wife. This is not a new revelation. I’ve known about the marriage trial for years. I was very young when I found out my father didn’t love my mother, that they were married only because of what she brought to the table—producing a son worthy of a throne. Theirs was a marriage arranged by their fathers, and over time, I’ve come to terms with knowing whoever would stand next to me would be chosen for me, too. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Contrary to the path my father is paving for me, I believe the next generation can make a difference, one worthy of the motto we abide by. When I take my place, I want to cut toxicity from the veins of our leaders and reclaim the pride we once had, one nation, one whole. The Irish flag bleeds green, white, and gold; colours intended to symbolise the inclusion and the aspiration for unity between people of different traditions on one island. I strive to cull the hate, the corruption, and the fear by replacing the old ways with leaders who speak for the people. The syndicate has the money to do good. Unfortunately, money breeds power, and power in the wrong hands creates violence among the men hoping to claim it.