Page 127 of The Ruler
“What did he say?” I asked with an eerie feeling it had something to do with me. Magni’s physically pushing our father was a first, and I wanted to know what words had provoked him to react that way.
“Nothing,” Magni hissed low, and that only confirmed that it had been about me.
With a strong hand on my brother’s upper arm I stopped him. “What did the fucker say this time?” My solemn glare and icy tone demanded the truth.
Magni huffed out air, his blue eyes closing for a second before he met my stare head on. “The bastard said that he wished it had been you instead of Peter because at least then he could die knowing the Northlands would have a strong ruler in me.”
My face remained impassive. Only my Adam’s apple bobbed in my throat as I swallowed hard and felt a new layer of armor form on the outside of my heart.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Magni reminded me like he had for years. “You know how he enjoys playing mind games.”
Yes, I knew, because usually I was the target of those mind games, but this was different.
“I have to fetch Mom,” Magni muttered, grabbed onto my shoulder, and leaned in. “But afterwards you and I are gonna drink to Peter’s memory and get wasted, okay?”
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” I said emotionlessly, as the reality of my friend’s death hadn’t sunk in yet.
“Me neither. It’s fucked up!” Magni shook my shoulder again before he left.
I don’t know how long I stood there, my fists clenched as hard as my jaw, my hatred for my father growing every time Magni’s words replayed in my mind. “He wished it had been you instead of Peter because at least then he could die knowing the Northlands would have a strong ruler in me.”
Mr. Zobel was white as a ghost when he was helped from the balcony to a chair inside the large room where I stood.
I watched my father’s concern for his friend, and saw my mother come running and kneel down on the thick rug to take Mr. Zobel’s hand, offering condolences and kind words.
It was absurd to watch my father shower his old friend with sympathy and kindness when all he had to offer me, his oldest son and heir, were harsh words.
Maybe if he’d been a bastard to everyone I wouldn’t have cared so much, but he loved Magni and my mother. And clearly, he cared deeply about his friend, Mr. Zobel, too.
It was me that he hated.
Because I was a big fucking disappointment to him and stood in the way of his favorite son, Magni.
It was easy to hate Magni, and for years I had.
But then I’d noticed how Magni resented the favoritism from our father, and we had grown close in spite of it. Now that I was twenty-five, Magni was my closest ally and friend.
After my mother and Magni had supported Mr. Zobel out of the room, I approached my father with my heart feeling cold and distant. “I’m sorry that Peter had to die today. It’s a great loss to all of us,” I said mechanically.
My father nodded and brushed sweat from his forehead. “Make sure his killer meets the best fighter in the next round. I want him destroyed for what he did to Peter.” Pacing the floor, he continued: “Such a fucking coward. Anyone can break a man’s neck – where’s the sport in that? In my days, we fought with honor.” He looked up and swung his hands in my direction. “Your generation doesn’t know what honor means. Strangling, breaking bones, crushing someone’s skull, that’s what real men do. Not some fancy Kung Fu move to snap off a life in a second.” While talking, he returned to the balcony and I followed. Groaning in anger, he positioned himself in his favorite pose with his legs spread, his hands planted firmly on his hips, and his elbows spread wide. The way he angled his chin down gave him a menacing posture that radiated intimidating power. “Where is that motherfucker?”
I spotted Peter’s killer right away, now in the audience enjoying his fame while preparing to see the next fight.
“I want that piece of shit dead,” my father growled.
“Why don’t I go down and challenge him myself?” I asked with a sardonic tone. “If you’re lucky he’ll snap my neck too and you can have your wish come true.”
My father arched a brow at me. “Ahh, so Magni told you, did he?”
My silence confirmed that.
“Tsk.” He dismissed me with a head shake. “You’ve always been so damn dramatic. Just get out of here.” When he lifted his hand and pushed at my face with his palm like I was a small boy throwing a tantrum, I acted on instinct.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I growled, low in my throat, and pushed him back hard enough to knock him to the floor.
My father was agile for his age and got up quickly, brushing himself off and cursing at me. “You spoiled little brat, are you challenging my position?”
“No.” I started walking away when his words froze me to my core.
