Page 7 of Wicked Knight

“Raise your right hand.” Aleksander’s voice rumbles through the hall and my thoughts.

I obey, lifting my hand.

“Dmitri Maxim Valneko, do you swear your life and allegiance to our cause?”

“I do.” Those simple words reflect my deepest desires and all the hard work I’ve put in to get to this point in my life.

“Then please take the Oath.”

“Iuramentum est vita nostra et mors nostra,” I recite the sacred words in Latin, which translates to: The oath is our life and our death.

Aleksander picks up the ceremonial blade from the stand next to him and slices a line across my palm. The moment blood appears, I turn my hand over, allowing the droplets to fall into the little fountain between us.

Aleksander watches me with caution. I’ve never truly known what he’s thought of me. Like most people, he respects me because of the success and fame I garner for being one of the best linebackers the college has ever had.

Having his respect in whatever way is another ticket for me. One I may need to use against my father someday soon.

As my blood mixes with the water, Aleksander nods his agreement. A sign he’s welcomed me to the fold.

It’s done. I’m officially a Knight now.

That should be half the battle won, but when I turn around and meet my father’s piercing stare, I know this is only the beginning.

Now that he’s Lord Chancellor and has more power, he’ll do his best to keep me under his thumb and make me his puppet.

Star linebacker. Star Knight. Star weapon.

Deep down I know I may still be the guy who wants to please his father, but I have to try to break the wheel of his control.

Slowly but surely.

I will never allow him to own me again.

He may be a monster.

But so am I.

He made me.

Chapter Three

Dmitri

Yuliana pours me a cup of coffee then returns to my father across the table to refill his cup. It’s a special blend with hazelnut syrup she likes to make after dinner.

We have maids, but Yuliana likes to cook and serve us when I’m home. My return pushes her into mom-mode, and she becomes the caring stepmother who’s always striving to fill my mother’s shoes in whatever way she can.

She married my father a year after my mother’s death. People always compared her to my mother because everyone—including me—thought Mom was perfect. She was.

My mother had known my father all her life, but his marriage to Yuliana was arranged at a whim’s notice. She’s also fifteen years younger than him, so she’s only just turned forty.

A senior Knight on the council must always have a wife, whether he loves her or not.

He was in love with my mother; that much I know about him to be true. I also know that he tries to love Yuliana, but she’s not my mother.

She sets the coffee jug down next to the remaining slices of pie and glances at my father, who is staring at me. An apprehensive look instantly washes over her face when she reads his contemptuous expression.

Her unease reflects how I feel. She’s probably just realized that I’ve hardly spoken to him since I got home, and he’s probably pissed at me because I got here so late.