Page 93 of Court of Talons
“My lord.” Somehow, I manage the strength to bow to him without throwing up. I turn and bow to Rihad then, grateful that he’s the one staring at me and not Councilor Miriam. As we turn, though, there’s little gain in that. Miriam blocks our way, not ten steps distant.
“That’s Councilor Miriam, Father,” I say, ducking my head toward him even as he stiffens with revulsion at my nearness. “She’s a sensitive, a good one. Have a care.”
My father may be a brute, but he isn’t a fool. He strides ahead of me with three long steps, his face no doubt as open as his arms as he greets Councilor Miriam with such a wash of goodwill, I suspect the woman is reeling. Their greeting allows me to step past the councilor and move several strides ahead,a guard between us now, before my father breaks free. I wait deferentially as the two exchange more pleasantries, then my father joins me once more.
By now, we’re behind the high table, facing the three doors. I long to take the portal that leads to the chained Divh Szonja, but instead we move toward the center archway. I now realize what lies beyond it is a wide antechamber, not a corridor at all. My father steps quickly into it.
Then he turns on me.
His hand shoots out so quickly, and I’m so used to cowering before him, that I barely even flinch when he pulls me onto my toes by what’s left of my hair, exposing the long scar he inflicted upon me more than a decade ago. But I know enough to step back from the openhanded smack that follows.
I might be executed by this man, but I’m not going to be struck by him—not anymore.
Father doesn’t pause. “Where is Merritt?”
I blink at him, stunned. Surely he’s heard of the attack, surely he knows. “There—there was an attack.”
“Where is yourbrother?” He fairly spits the words, though he keeps his voice low. Even now, he has no desire to draw the attention of Rihad.
“He died,” I snap, the words releasing a swell of grief I have no place to feel now. “There was an arrow—he jumped—you know how he jumps with his Divh and?—”
Before I can react, Father reaches out again. This time he grabs my shoulder, wrapping his hand around my bicep where the warrior’s band has embedded itself in my skin. Clearly, he can feel the cuff through my tunic sleeve, and his face reddens with hatred, his eyes going nearly black in their intensity as the pain of his grip sends bolts of wrenching agony through my arm.
“You shamefulwhore,” he breathes. “Youdog. I thought myself well rid of you when I sent you to that swine Orlof, yetnot only do you not have the grace to die on the road, but you allowed your brother to die—yourbrother—” The mention of Merritt seems to pull him out of his anger and plunges him down another waterwheel of emotions, shock and horror and grief. “Heis the warrior of the Tenth. You aren’t. I should have killed you before you took your first breath. Rihad will never forgive this?—”
“Father!Listento me.”
He’s so startled at my voice that he steps back, but I have not been Talia the meek and serving for more than two weeks now, and it feels like so much longer. I’ve been a warrior, fighting for my house’s safety—a safety that is now more at risk than ever. “Rihad is no true protector of our house. He knew you were sending Merritt out on that mountain road. He knew it because the bards told him as much. He sent—men. To kill Merritt and destroy his Divh. I have the arrow that took Merritt’s life.”
“You dare—!” he grates out.
I plow on. “I didn’t come to the tournament to fight. I came here to buy us soldiers for protection and then beg for restitution, for vengeance. For Merritt and the Tenth House. Only after I got here, I learned that Rihad had struck not one butthreeborder houses. Probably more. He seeks to shore up the strength of the Protectorate with his own men, Father. Menhecontrols, not you. The warriors he sends you won’t be beholden to you. They will bow to you, while to him, they kneel.”
To my surprise, my father seems to actually consider my words. “You have the arrow that killed Merritt?” he asks, his voice low and ominous.
“I’d planned to present it to Rihad. It’s a gray arrow, nondescript though well made. The arrow of someone hiding who he really is. Awarrior’sarrow.”
His face turns mutinous, and I rush on. “I…was with Merritt when he died. I couldn’t reach him in time.”
“Youfailedhim.” Father’s words are so matter of fact, I jerk back again. “He was your lord. Your life was forfeit to his. Instead, he is dead andyou, you who have no right to even still breathe, youwalkwhile he is consigned to the Light.”
“I sought only?—”
“You.” He reaches out again and clamps his hand around my arm, squeezing even harder. I nearly faint from the pain. “You stole his band.”
“I didnot,” I say hotly, wrenching from his grasp. “It—it moved. Toward me, and?—”
“No.”Father’s words are so intense, he’s almost hoarse with anger. “You arelying. It is forbidden!”
Rage surges up within me and overflows, my words stupid and desperate and coming far, far too quickly. “Forbidden or not, it happened. And I havewon, Father. I’ve won battle after battle. Not the first, no, but since then, I’ve learned, and I’ve succeeded. I have brought honor to your house, not shame!”
Something shifts in my father then, deep and ugly, that seems to suck all the air from the chamber. He stares at me with flat, cunning eyes. “You have brought something, yes. At long last. From the moment you came squalling into this world, I have cursed the Light for its cruelty. Shaming my family, my house. The Protectorate. The very Exalted Imperium. A firstborn daughter is anabomination. I should have killed you a dozen times over already.”
In the face of such fury, I can only stare. Stare and stammer words that don’t make it past my throat. “I won’t fight anymore,” I try to say, all my newfound strength buried in a lifetime of shame.I’ll run. I’ll hide. I’ll stay far, far away.
But my father isn’t finished. “Even in my despair, I prayed that there would be some use to your slovenly, disgusting life, some payment for my years of torture in suffering you to live. And now there will be.”
I rear back, but he lunges at me, and this time, his hand catches my wrist, not my shoulder. “Rihad will know the traitor he has in his midst. Guards!”