Page 132 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
And Jove not being there to save them. Because he had gone off drinking.
“Why didn’t you tell me about…about what your…” His mother spoke, her words choked and soft as if they kept getting caught in her throat. “Why didn’t you tell me about what Harlan was doing to you?”
Jove ran a hand down his face. He’d been dreading this conversation. It was truly a miracle he’d avoided it thus far, but that still didn’t mean he wanted to have it with his mother. It hardly seemed like an ideal time, though he was unsure if there would ever be. He’d already spilled his secrets to the High and City Councils. Was having to relive his most horrid memories penance for not telling anyone what happened?
He swallowed. “I’d rather not talk about it, Mother.”
Les sniffed and wiped her face with the sleeve of her once fine gown. “I need to know.”
Jove ran his fingers over his cracked and peeling lips. He took a few deep breaths. He worked his jaw. His mother waited patiently. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Please,” his mother said quietly.
Jove didn’t look at her. He hid his eyes behind his hand and stared at his filthy dress shoes. He could no longer tell what was dried blood and what was dirt. “It started the night Ana died.”
The silence that followed was worse than Jove imagined. It was only broken by the strange hissing coming from the corrupted crystal. Jove would’ve liked to move somewhere else, but of course, it was the only source of light, and Kainadr only had so much dust he could use to keep his light going.
“And those were the only times? Then and the night of the Rubikan estate dinner?” His mother’s voice was hoarse. Whether it was from their situation or the conversation at hand, he didn’t know. It was also pleading, as if she still hoped it had all been a horrible dream and they’d wake up twenty years ago.
He still didn’t look over at her, content to hide behind the thin shield of his hand. “A few other times, but not many. Kase is usually the one who sets him off. Mostly he just shouts.”
A few minutes more of silence, then, “I…I…”
Jove looked up, letting his hand fall from his eyes at last. His mother trembled, yet no tears fell. Her hands were clenched into fists. “I am sorry.”
The words were tight and short as if she were holding her breath. Jove tentatively placed a hand over one of her fists. “You didn’t know, and I can take care of myself. So can Kase.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but she quickly shut it. For a moment, Jove wondered who she had to confide in besides his father. He knew she had friends, but they weren’t close, and Jove wasn’t sure if any of them survived the attack.
He squeezed her hand. She looked up at him, her blue eyes shadowed. “My job as a mother is to protect my children, and I failed.”
“Mother…”
“I gave you the best life I possibly could, enrolled you in the best schools, read to you, loved you…but then Ana…Zeke…and now Kase. I can’t fix it, and that thought alone might just kill me.”
Jove scooted over and placed an arm around his mother’s shoulders. It was odd to do so. For his entire life, she’d been the comforter, the one he went to when he scraped his knee. Was this what it was like to grow up? To go from the comforted to the comforter?
He felt differently about Harlan for obvious reasons. He was the sort of father who expected perfection, absolute blind obedience. Even before the abuse began, he’d been distant—both physically and emotionally. When he was home, he ran the household much like the army with cold indifference. His mother though…he didn’t know if it was the situation, the fact he was an adult, or that he now had a son, but he’d never seen his mother as a mere human before—not before that very moment.
He was only twenty-five, yet for some reason, he was now discovering that truth. It was uncomfortable and even a little shocking. What would he face in his own life with Samuel? Would Jove turn into his father?
Was that to be his fate?
No. He refused to do so. How could anyone look into Samuel’s small, cherub-like face and seek to do harm?
But he’d hit his father the night Kase ran.
Part of him had always known he had the capacity to become like Harlan. Jove tried to ignore those intrusive thoughts, the ones that made him think that he’d been dealt a hand he could never play, but it was always there. Sometimes, itfelt like he was doomed to become Harlan merely because it was in his genes. That he couldn’t escape his fate because it was part of him.
No alcohol could tamper the anger simmering just beneath the surface. That didn’t change the fact that his fingers currently itched to have a mug of ale in hand.
Jove squeezed his mother’s shoulder as a soft sob shook her body. When had it all fallen apart? How had someone as kindhearted as his mother fallen in love with someone as cold as Harlan Shackley? It didn’t make sense.
His mother had told them the story when they were younger. They’d been introduced through her brother, Ezekiel, and then they’d written letters over the years his father had left in the military. They’d gotten married about two years after his uncle had left the service, but Harlan was still in it.
Four years later, they had Jove.
An uncomfortable truth surfaced in his mind. What if Harlan had thought the same when Jove was born? What if he’d promised to love and protect his children from anything, yet never dreamed the child who was a culmination of his and Les’ love would need protecting from himself?
