Page 9 of Eternal Captive

“Aw, so shocked by my declaration it caused you to misstep?” I asked and pushed past her as she stayed frozen in the hall. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Aurelia,” Father warned, but didn’t pause to help his wife. Her spawn was by her side in seconds, running to grab onto her elbow and help her stand up straight.

Can’t even stand without help. Surprising Father kept you around so long.

“Excuse me, Father,” I said, bending my head and sending him a smile. “Merely just excited to bond with your wife?—”

“Your mother,” he corrected without so much as a blink.

“Right,” I said through gritted teeth and kept pace with him until we got to the hallway that led to the east wing of the house and my room. “I’ll retire for the night. Looking forward to the engagement talks.”

He let out a grunt but gave me no other indication of his approval. When his back was turned to me, I waved to the evil duo as they walked past.

“Watch your fucking mouth next time,” I muttered under my breath.

Her spawn looked at me with shock while her mother just smirked.

“You really don’t know what you’re in for, do you?” she asked, her eyes trailing my body as if assessing me. “You’re just a tool for breeding, and somehow you’ve convinced yourself you’re still important?”

All the anger from before slammed into my body like a tidal wave. I clenched my fists, willing them to stay by my sides regardless of how red my vision turned.

She let out a light laugh and continued on her way after Father. Her spawn whispered something under her breath. Something that had me losing my entire rational thought.

“Broodmare.”

Crystal shattered against the shimmery decorated wallpaper in my bedroom, the sharp pieces scattering across the room, light reflecting off them and shining against the ceiling.

A guttural scream ripped from my throat. I grabbed everything and anything I could throw. Carts. Perfume. Makeup. Chairs. Throws. Paintings.

All of it met the wall with a hard thud, and whatever didn’t shatter satisfyingly enough, I made sure to tear it apart myself.

“Fuck you,” I growled, tearing a painting of the rows of roses in front of the palace. “Want to sacrifice me? And for what?”

Selling me off would only hurt Father, wouldn’t it?

What was it that Prince Icas had that Father wanted so badly that he would sell me?

I had done everything I could since Mother died to get on his good side. I hadn’t said anything when he married thatbitchmere months after Mother died. Nor did I say anything about her baggage.

I sat there and took all their abuse and attempts to steal the power for themselves.

I was a good little princess. One who was fierce enough to remind my father that I was more similar to him than I ever was to Mother.

Even if I were disposable enough to sell off,why him?

Prince Icas’s father was the head of a family, but it was nowhere near our size. Had nowhere near our power.

The only thing that they had going for them was their wealth.

I let out another snarl. The room was a mess. I had destroyed almost everything in my path.Almost.

My pristine four-poster bed with a mountain of fluffy blankets on top caught my eye. I headed straight for it, imagining the entire time that the fabric belonged to the dress of my vile stepmother.

I ripped into the silk sheets with my fangs and claws, imagining that the feathers spilling out were the same color as her insides. I hated her.Hated them.Father was the person who allowed all this to happen, buttheywere the ones who inflictedthe years of pain. Father’s slaps here and there held nothing to what they had done.

There was a pitcher of bright red blood next to the bed, and one sniff told me it was alcohol-infused. I poured it out over the bedding, reveling in the way the color stained the white sheets, forever ruining them.

“Do you bleed like this?” I mused, still imagining my stepmother lying on the bed instead.

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