Page 13 of He Who Ignites The Flame
“It’s already been decided,” she said numbly, as if she’d just accepted it without a fight.
“But...but you haven’t even gone through your settling yet. You’re only eighteen.”
“The ceremony is to be held in two weeks.”
I frowned. “Why so soon?”
She shrugged. “Does it matter? Nothing I do or say will change his mind.”
What would he get out of this? Favor with House Leukós? Favor with Jude’s father? The flames within me coiled tighter with each second, but I shoved them back. I couldn’t lose my temper, not here. I’d lost it during the first week of training and had injured someone. I couldn’t risk injuring her.
“I’ll talk to him,” I said.
She paled. “Don’t?—”
“Talk to me about what?” Father said, and we both stiffened, my heart launching into my throat as I turned to find him standing in the hallway. By the subtle slur of his words I knew he was already drunk—not like there was ever a night when he wasn’t. His steel eyes narrowed on us, and Mother came to a stop beside him, running her hand over his back.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Calliope?” Mother asked, offering her a soft smile.
“Why aren’t you?” Father asked, turning to Calliope, and she drew a sharp breath, her mouth opening but failing to produce words.
“I was taking her to see if the jasmines were blooming in the garden,” I said, stepping in front of her and taking her hand.
Father’s steel gaze snapped to me, and I hated how with that single look, I was a helpless child again—an easy outlet for his drunken rage.
“Do you think me a fool, boy?” he spat, his lips peeling back.
Mother curled her hand around his arm, drawing close to him. “My lov?—“
“Don’t try to distract me, Cassia!” he barked, his flushed face reddening further.
Calliope’s grip on my sleeve tightened and she winced as Father swung his arm from Mother’s hold, knocking her back against the wall.
My hands balled into fists at my sides, the flames surging beneath the surface of my skin, begging to be released. I was no match for him, the head of House Stoicheion. He was a powerful flame wielder, possibly the strongest in the village. It was the only reason I willingly joined The Order, in hopes that the training might help me one day become strong enough to face him. To destroy him.
“You’ve always coddled them too much,” he grumbled to Mother before turning his sights back on us. “It’s why he’s so soft.”
I drew a deep breath, holding my ground under the weight of his glare.
“Answer me, boy, and you had better be honest. Why is she out of bed?” he demanded, stalking toward us, each massive step building a new layer of fear within me that only left me angrier at how weak I was.
I stood firm, my chin tipped up as Calliope tensed at my back, her hands trembling. “Night-blooming jasmines. They should be blooming right now.”
His fist connected with my jaw, and Calliope cried out as I crashed onto the stone floor. I groaned, pushing myself up before running the back of my hand across my busted lip, the taste of copper coating my tongue. Fuck.
Father turned to Calliope before he stormed toward her and grabbed a fistful of her hair. She cried out as he jerked her toward him. “If I see you sneaking about again, it’ll be the last thing you do.”
A knock at the door pulled me back. My hands recoiled at the sight of the water within the basin boiling and bubbling, and my eyes shot up to the mirror fogged with steam and cracked from the heat.
“You’ll be late for your first day of training,” Lucia said from the other side of the door.
I cursed under my breath and grabbed my shirt before pulling it over my head and heading for the door.
Over forty-five years later, the bastard still had his claws in me.
“You entered the recruitment program once before, correct?” Lucia asked as I followed her through the training yard, the morning sun already hard at work, beating down on us. The flames within me seemed to preen in its presence, like a lizard basking in the rays.
“I did once,” I said, humoring her despite the throbbing headache that hadn’t fully let up.
