Page 53 of Liar's Heart
My father joins the Councilman, who stands again. I don't offer to move. They’ll tell me if they want me somewhere else, and I’m not risking being taught a lesson in obedience when I’m already concussed. Side by side, it’s easier to get a feel for the size and shape of the Councilman under his vestments. He’s about two inches shorter than Alec and a tad slimmer through the shoulders. That narrows down who he could be… not even a little bit. He’s the first to speak though. “Charon, thank you for joining us. How is Mrs. Sinclair?”
My heart leaps at the question. I didn’t anticipate this. Either the Councilman’s psychological torture skills are nonexistent, or he’s trying to ingratiate himself with me. Either way, I’m frozen, waiting to hear Alec’s response. Because this is the devil I know. The one who taught me everything I know about pain and death. He knows how to play this to his advantage. So I’m not surprised when his response is “She’s doing well. Awake and recovering. I got her to eat and drink a little while we talked.”
He obviously wants me to ask what he means by recovering and being awake. His report sounded like something a doctor would tell waiting family members after performingsurgery on a patient. Reassuring but still maddening with its implications. I refuse to be baited by him.
At least, not today.
“Good. That’s good,” the Councilman responds. “Now, shall we fill Ender in?”
My father stands with his hands in his pants pockets, all casual elegance in a smart suit. Not a hair out of place, his beard neatly trimmed. His face is a mask of bored indifference, the same one he usually wore while doling out punishment. Somewhere deep in my chest, a little boy is flinching just from having that look leveled at him, terrified of whatever’s coming, knowing it won't be good or fast or easy. Sometimes, when he looks at me like that, it's hard to remember I'm a grown man, one who's capable of fighting back. And as much as I try to bury that reaction deep down and not let it show, I swear he senses it every single time.
Alec sighs, like having to kidnap his son and daughter-in-law has majorly inconvenienced him and he has places to be that don’t include standing in this cell. “Son,” he says, “you’ve been neglecting your duties as both a Ferryman and a Sinclair for far too long. It's been years since you've participated in either in any real capacity. I've been happy to indulge your little…”—he holds up his hand and wiggles his fingers like what he's talking about is some childish frivolity and not my fucking life—“dalliances with Roman and your company, but it's time for you to start making more meaningful contributions.”
My voice comes out more strained than I intend it to, but at least it's steady. “And what did you have in mind, Father?”
“You're going to impregnate your wife, to start. After that, we'll decide if we can trust you enough to start ferrying again, but that'll depend on your behavior.”
“You want me to… impregnate my wife.” It's not really a question; more like I need to repeat it for myself to let it sink in. It's still not fully registering why this is the first step in my reform.
He nods. “That's right. It shouldn't be too hard for you. You two have already sorted out the basic mechanics of it. Now it's just a matter of practice making perfect.”
“Care to share why you have such a vested interest in a grandchild?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m not interested in a grandchild,” he explains. “I'm interested in an heir. A better one who I can raise without interference. Raise with more wisdom and better methods now that I've had time to reflect on why you're such a fuckup. First pancake and all.” Not a shred of emotion crosses his face as he says this. He's thought long and hard about this plan and has absolutely zero issue with forcing us to make and then give him a child.
“And if I don't?” I ask because I have to know. I have to know how far he's willing to go.
Alec leans forward a little, just enough for the movement to feel intimidating, and answers in that same eerily cool tone, “You will. I’m giving you the courtesy of allowing the baby to be yours, son. That’s awfully generous of me. If you refuse or fail, I’ll chain you like a dog and make you watch me rape our Sinclair bride over and over again. Every day, if that's what it takes to breed the bitch. And then, when I've done what you wouldn't, when she’s fat and full withmychild, I'll make her watch while I cut out your heart.” He looks me up and down, examining me like he’s trying to decide on a fair price for a stud fee on a bad-tempered stallion. “There are a lot of pieces of you that aren’t necessary for my goals. I wonder what she’d happily barter away to let you keep that tongue she’s so fond of riding?”
He straightens back up, tugging his suit jacket down and smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles. I look between him and the Councilman, but both are immovable. Looks likewhatever my father dictates, the Council either already knew about and approved in advance or will support as it comes.
Sighing, I give Alec what he wants—my submission. Because he's right. I'm not going to let that happen to Merrick. And if they let us in the same room together, we might stand a chance of figuring out a plan. “When will I get to see her?” I ask.
Alec smirks, thrilled to once again have me in checkmate. “Soon enough. We’re still waiting for her cycle to return, and there’s really no need for conjugal visits unless she’s ovulating.”
It’s hard to not cringe at his crass words, but I don't let them deter me. “I want daily visits. An hour minimum.” I can tell he's about to shoot me down, so I quickly add, “It'll go really far in keeping us both compliant and calm. Boredom's more likely to make us act up than anything else, and it's something to hold over us both.”
Both men are silent for a beat before the Councilman turns to Alec. “All valid points.” Then turning to me, he announces, “Granted.”
On that note, the Councilman turns on his heel, his footsteps echoing off the stone like a gavel slamming down onto a judge’s bench. He makes it to the door and pauses, turning to Alec with such pointed body language it's clear he's waiting for him to leave first. I watch the muscle in Alec's jaw feather as he clenches it before doing as he's silently commanded and exiting my cell. The Councilman waits by the door for his Fury to join him. Right before he takes his leave, the Councilman looks in my direction and gives me a slight bow of his head in farewell.
It isn't until after both men have left and the door's secured back in place that I notice no one took the chair out with them.
The hingeson the door creak as it opens, like it has every time it's opened and closed since I've woken up. After Alec left, acolytes came and went periodically for what had to have been hours. Some were there to tend to me, assisting with bathing and grooming since my movement is still limited. I'm down to only one chained ankle now, and they've given me more length on it, so I can at least get up and stretch my legs for the time being. They brought some fresh clothes for me to choose from, mostly simple dresses and sweaters, things that are comfortable but work around my restraints. Others tended to the room, making sure linens and towels were fresh and trash was removed. Some brought trays of food. The first two were on the lighter side, but the third one was a full breakfast. That was the most recent one, maybe two or three hours ago, so I don't think it’s lunch yet, but I also have no accurate way of tracking time here.
Not bothering to look up until I'm turning around on my latest lap, I'm a little surprised to see Alec walking toward me. I stop pacing and call out, “I wasn't sure when I'd see you again.”
My father-in-law strolls toward me, no urgency at all inhis demeanor. Though, why would there be? I'm not going anywhere. He stops a few feet in front of me, eyes appraising me like I'm his new mare he's taking to stud. Which, I suppose, I am.
Ignoring my greeting completely, Alec wastes no time with pleasantries. “The Council has ordered that you are to have daily visits with your husband,” he announces. My heart leaps. “An hour a day. He will be escorted here, and you will both be accompanied by a Fury for the duration of your time together. Are you familiar with the Furies, Merrick?”
Slowly, I nod. Iamfamiliar with the Furies. I just have never met one. The Society's jailers, Furies, are the things of nightmares. Beholden only to the Council themselves, they're often tasked not just with caring for and guarding their wards but torturing them if deemed fitting. They don't leave Tartarus and are rarely spoken of, let alone seen. I wasn't even certain Tartarus itself existed or that it was here.
Alec continues. “Good. So you're aware that it's in everyone's best interest to be on your best behavior. If not, well… your physical safety is fairly protected for now, but Ender’s?” He shakes his head and tuts, like having to hurt Ender is some unfortunate prospect and not the threat it is.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I croon. “I’m docile as a lamb.”
“Excellent.” He claps his hands together once in emphasis. “Now that we've got that out of the way… come. Sit.” Alec sweeps his hands toward the sitting area as he waits for me to move. I sigh. He knows damn well I'm incapable of walking over there, and the theatrics are obnoxious. He pretends to remember, screwing up his face as he drawls, “Oooh. Right,” before producing a key with a flourish.
