Page 7 of The Source of Storms

I could see the fury brimming in his eyes when I dared a glance at him. I kept my gaze on the table, head low.

“Well?! Where did you fall asleep?”

I wished I could shrink into the background as well as my mother did. Wished I could melt into the chair, into the floor, flow away like water. I had no excuse to give, no lie prepared. Even if I had, I’d always been a terrible liar.

“At Sigurd’s,” I finally said, nearly a whisper.

His hand slammed onto the table, startling me. “Gods damn it, Halja! And with a boy, no less! What were you doing there?!”

“Just visiting,” I squeaked.

“Oh, just visiting. Justvisiting. I know what young men do when they ‘just visit’ with a woman, Halja. I know!”

He stood and began to pace, then stopped and loomed over me. I shrank further, willing my body to fold into nothing. My palms began to sweat, and my stomach turned with nausea.

“I can’t believe you Halja! Did you– Did you have… Did you sleep with that boy?”

He was too ashamed of the act to even utter the words. That shame coursed through me, seeped into my very bones. Shame I had been born with, raised with, steeped in since the day I arrived. I did not answer.

“Gods be damned, how am I supposed to find you a husband now?! How will I ever get rid of you?”

“Calm down Iagan, times are changing–” my mother began, but he was quick to silence her.

“You stay out of this, Istra! You’ve protected her long enough! It’s time she learns a lesson.”

“So you want to get rid of me now?” I asked.

“Oh, if I could marry you off today, I would in a heartbeat! To any old sucker, any lump with a brain and a cock! If anybody would take you. But no! They won’t! Not with a face and eyes like that. And certainly not after this.”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?” I asked quietly, although I knew the answer. I kept my gaze down, but the question was enough to stoke his rage.

“Oh that’s rich, as if you can’t see! Like you don’t know. There’s fae written all over you!” he raged.

“Shut up,” I said quietly.

“What did you say to me?”

“I may have been late last night, but you don’t have to attack me for my looks.”

“How dare you!” he thundered, the air vibrating with his anger. “Talking back to me now! You sneak around like a little whore and then you think you get to talk back to me?”

“Stop it!” I yelled. Fear coursed through me and my heart pounded, but I raised my head and yelled it all the same.

“Shut your mouth! I should have never let you into this house. Never! I should’ve thrown you into the sea the night you were born, gods damn it! I was too nice, even though I never wanted you.” He turned on my mother. “I did it for you, took youand your baby even though I knew there was something wrong with her! I was blinded by my love for you!”

My mother gasped, a look of shocked horror on her face.

Silence, then. Heavy and pregnant.

“What did you say?” I asked. It was my turn to be menacingly quiet now.

My father looked away. “You heard what I said.” He spoke the words to the wall.

“You never wanted me?”

“No, of course not!” he snapped, as if the notion were ridiculous, and I could have sworn my ribcage imploded. Crushed like I had dove too deep, as if he really had thrown me into the ocean.

“What are you saying?” I asked.

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