Page 39 of Drama Queen

“My king? You don’t even get to call yourself my father, let alone my fucking king,” I say, voice raising, and a fury like I have never known turns my vision red. “You are a manipulative child molester who took advantage of a vulnerable young girl,not even a woman. Couldn’t get someone more age appropriate? Was it the micro-peen, Daddy? You are giving off some mighty small dick energy, I have to say.”

He starts forward, in a move that I am sure will have him strike me again, but I am ready this time.

“Go on, beat me down while I am chained up, like the big man you are!” I practically scream at him, straining against my binds to get in his face. “Come on, Your Majesty! Fucking hit me!!”

He takes a step back and laughs. The anger leaving his face instantly, like this has been some inside joke all along. I am completely thrown by his reaction to my outburst.

“Got my fire, too, I see.” He steps back into me and sniffs deeply and loudly. Ewww.

“But that’s not all you inherited, is it, daughter?” he says, slinking back a step out of reach again. My confusion must be written all over my face, so with a sigh, he leans in so close I can smell his subtle aftershave, and his eyes start to glow green. And I don’t mean like a light flashes in your eyes, they actually fuckingglow.

“What the hell?” I start, pushing myself back away from his face.

“She didn’t tell you,” he says. It’s a statement, not a question, but he sounds shocked. “How interesting. Tell me, Aria, have you never noticed your mother’s inability to keep a man in her life?”

“I fail to see . . .”

“Have you never thought it strange that she seems to tire over time, getting worse no matter how much she rests, until one day, suddenly, she is like a brand-new person and so full of life and energy you think she might burst?”

“I don’t know what you’re...” I start, but the rest of my sentence tapers off as I think. His words ring true.

All my life, Mum has been a roller coaster of energy. She would have so much that even as a child I couldn’t keep up, and slowly, over days and weeks, she would become more drawn, dark circles forming under her eyes, her beautiful golden hair would lose it lustre, and then one morning I would wake up and she would be full of energy again, and the cycle would start anew.

“Ahhhh, but it seems you do, my child.”

“You don’t get to call me that,” I snipe, coming out of my memories and back to the here and now.

“What? My child? But you are. There is no denying it. You haven’t even tried. You know who I am to you. You feel it. Don’t lie. I abhor liars.”

“Youabhorliars?” I say incredulously, then glance pointedly at myself and our surroundings. “But you seem completely at ease with kidnapping.”

“This? It is just a means to an end, Aria. I thought it was time to meet, and I wanted to ensure you would hear what I have to say.”

“Acaptiveaudience, so to speak?” I retort. “Taking that shit a little too literally, don’t you think?”

“Enough with that smart mouth—and watch your tone!” he sneers, startling me enough that I flinch again. I hate my reaction. It shows a weakness.

“Maybe a few quiet hours with your companion will convince you to hold that forked tongue, young lady,” he says, and turns, leaving the room without a backwards glance.

My captor, who I’d quite forgotten was in the room still, moves over to the crank and manoeuvres the frame back to a lying position, rotating it around again. He removes the restraints at my wrists, and one of my legs, then comes around to help me sit up.

Movement on the other side of the room makes my gaze snap up. Anders! He’s lying on a frame the same as mine, held off the ground on some kind of lifter. He’s blindfolded like I was, but his face looks bruised. There’s dried blood in his hairline, and tracks of it have fallen down the side of his face. He isn’t moving.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say quietly to my captor, hoping my gentle tone might convince him I’m no threat.

“I have left you enough chain to reach.” He motions with his head to a bucket in the corner near a sink with a dripping tap. Absolutely not.

“What about him?” I use the same head gesture towards Anders, careful not to use his name, just in case.

“I will untie him the same as you, but he will probably be out for a while. Took a bit of a knock to the head when he started fighting against his bonds earlier.”

The guy moves over to Anders, and true to his word, undoes the binds at his wrists and one leg, just like mine. He doesn’t remove the blindfold, though, and Anders doesn’t move or make a sound the whole time.

“I’ll be back to check on you a little later,” our captor says, and walks back out the door, closing it behind him. A key turns in the lock, and his slow footsteps walk away.

Fifteen

I waita few minutes to make sure they’re really gone before rushing off the frame and over to Anders. My ankle restraint stops me short, but I can reach his face if I stretch and lift my bound leg in the air. I’m suddenly grateful for the ballet lessons Mum let me go to when I was a little girl, which have surely prepared me for this moment.

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