Page 28 of Vicious Knight

I’m not entirely sure if I ever really had such a thing as a ‘soft side’ or if I just made my mother believe I did to please her. I think it’s the latter.

There was never anything soft about me. I was always fucked up, but my mother was the exception to every rule in the book. So was my sister Anushka, who was five years older than me. Our mother gave us piano lessons together because it was the thing we bonded over.

Having them—all of them, my father, mother and Anushka—ripped out of my world turned me into the soulless creature I am today.

That’s why I don’t play the piano anymore. It reminded me too much of them. Of how they went. They were all good people who never deserved to die the way they did.

The last time I saw my mother and father, the house was under attack and they were telling Caspian and I to hide. I saw my sister several hours before when we sat in the kitchen eating ice cream. We were staying at one of our safe houses, but neither of us would have known that was because my father was protecting us.

Sometimes I’m grateful I never saw their deaths, then like now, I feel like a coward for admitting that. Because Caspian saw. At eight-years-old he was forced to watch them die. Their deaths were so horrific it took him years to tell me how it happened.

They beat my father to death with a metal pole, but before he died, the men made him watch them rape my mother and sister. They’d gouged out my mother’s eyes, so at least she didn’t get to see what happened to Anushka.

The devils then left the remains of my family to rot in the bottom of a well with Caspian, who they tortured daily until he was rescued nearly a year later.

That is the horror I was spared from. I will always be grateful to Caspian for what he did for me, but I hate that I wasn’t with my family in their final moments.

For a time I tried to keep them alive in music but all that did was make my grief and loss worse. So I stopped.

From time to time the music calls to me. It did tonight when I saw the little deer’s composition. And I guess I can still read music and put notes together well enough to surprise people like little Miss I’m-not-your-type.

Despite the dark memories of my family, thinking of the shock on her face makes me smile to myself as I step onto the cobbled path leading back to my dorm.

She’s actually right. She’s not my usual type.

So why am I jonesing for this girl?

What the fuck is so interesting about her when I have a sea of women at my beck and call?

She’s beautiful with a kind of beauty I haven’t seen before. And yes, I’d love to get a taste of that body of hers, and I meant what I said. But that’s not it.

None of those things is what has my interest.

Maybe it’s because she’s actually scared of me. People know to fear me and they’re wary enough of the Ivanov name to know not to fuck with me. But she… she’s genuinely terrified.

Even when she’s trying to mask her fear by throwing her snippy remarks, the scent of it is as rich and potent as fresh blood. I’m like the shark when I smell that, and I still want a taste of the girl.

When I reach Erebus I go up to my room and stare at the computer, at the email from my uncle that sent me outside.

Aleksander wants to meet first thing in the morning, before I start my training.

Motherfucker. He would want to meet then, wouldn’t he?

This year I’ll be spending Wednesdays and Thursdays at Ivanov Tech and the rest of time on campus. Over the summer I was counting down. I couldn’t wait. Now I’m dreading it.

Today is my official start and my uncle has already ruined it. The prick wants to go over the matters he discussed on the phone the other night and the unit Caspian and I will be selecting this year.

What pisses me off is I’m still in that mindfuck limbo where I’m not sure what to do. Nothing may come to me until my uncle makes his move.

I guess I’ll know more in a few hours.

Until then I’ll occupy myself with something a little more entertaining.

Using my tracker pad I flick back to Ivy Yegorov’s high school records and scroll through the details on my little deer.

Music, music, music. That’s all she seemed to love.

But there must be something darker in that pretty little soul of hers.

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