He tried to fight, tried to jerk the chair over, to do something. But it was futile.
A blade suddenly appeared in his face, the steel right against the bridge of his nose.
“Tonight, you become a man.” The man secured her ankles with the rope then crawled on top of her, where she continued to try to buck against him. “You’re going to watch me turn your mother into a whore.”
She launched her body backward, trying to throw him off. “You’re barbaric!”
He shoved her back with a simple push of his hand. “And if you don’t, if you blink, my friend here will carve out your eyelids.”
The sword was tapped against his nose for good measure.
“Understand me, boy?”
All he could do was shake. All he could do was breathe. All he could do was suffer the agonizing torture and do nothing about it. “Why are you doing this?”
The man gave a chuckle as he positioned himself up against her. “If you had the chance to grow to manhood, you’d understand. You’d understand perfectly.” He started to push inside her, and she tried to fight.
He clamped his eyes shut on instinct.
The knife cut his cheek. “What did Faron say?”
His eyes opened once more, and now they were wet with angry tears.
Faron started to move, pounding his mother’s limp body into the bed, doing his best to make her scream, make her cry, make her beg for mercy.
But she didn’t.
All he could do was sit there, tears pouring down his face, utterly helpless to do a damn thing.
In the blizzard, they marched through piles of snow, right against the wind. Visibility was poor, and anything beyond a few feet was just a haze of gray. Their hair whipped behind them, and the dry air made their eyes tear.
With his wrists pinned behind him by the guard, he marched forward, shoved every few feet. He turned to his mother. He couldn’t whisper because the wind was too loud, so he had to shout. “Mother…are you okay?”
She must not have heard him because she didn’t say anything back.
Their march came to a halt, and they were both pushed forward.
He turned into the blizzard to see whatever they could, but then he realized where they were.
At the cliff.
Her arms immediately encircled him, protecting him from the cold, protecting him from everything that was out of her control. “Not my son…he’s just a boy.”
“Sons.” Faron grinned then gestured to one of his men.
Out of the blizzard, Ian was escorted by a guard, and he was forced forward too.
She dove for him, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him close. “Have mercy. Spare my sons.” For the first time that night, she cried, clutching them both to her chest. “Please…I beg you.”
Faron’s grin remained plastered on his face with no effort whatsoever. It was natural. Simple. As easy as breathing. He stepped forward, his hair blown back by the wind, and despite the pressure on his eyes, he didn’t squint. He wanted to enjoy this as much as possible, savor every second. “Tell me, where was your mercy?”
She clutched both boys to her chest, the tears leaving her cheeks the second they fell, carried on the wind.
He raised his voice and came closer. “Where was your mercy when we begged for asylum? It was nowhere, Your Highness.” He rushed them now, his body commanding the piles of snow, and shoved her hard.
She threw the boys aside and shoved him back. “No!”
He punched her in the face then grabbed her by the hair. “You first.”
“No!” She clawed at his face, carving rivers of blood that made him scream.
He punched her again—and again.
Her head dropped back, and her eyes glazed over.
When her body was limp as a fish, he pushed her.
And she fell.
Ian was the first to attack. “Ah!” He went for Faron’s knees to trip him off his feet.
The other men in black rushed in, and the fight was over in seconds. Both boys were forced to their knees right at the cliff, the wind howling with a gust of snow crystals that sliced the skin.
Ian was kicked first—a boot to the back.
He toppled over and disappeared into the blizzard. His scream was swallowed by the air, taken somewhere far away in a matter of seconds.
The son that remained looked at the last place he had seen his brother, his small body disappearing into the gray clouds that obscured the bottom. With all his family gone, there was nothing to fight for anymore. A wave of calm settled over him, his body providing the cushion to make this transition easier.
The boot hit his back.
And then he was gone.
ONE
Ivory
The summer breeze gently fluttered my white curtains, a little raise there, a flick of movement here. The city sloped downward from where my bedroom was perched on the rise, cobblestone streets leading to little shops and inns. The church was the tallest building, the crown jewel on the very top of the domed roof.