Page 57 of The Lost Child

My fear numbed in my chest as I realized the truth: Canavar couldn’t help me. I’d done everything I could, including literally giving myself to him, but it hadn’t been enough to break the blood curse or the decade of my father’s conditioning.

I swallowed heavily. If I didn’t let her, the girl would feel my father’s wrath next. I couldn’t do that to someone else. “Fine.”

The woman shot a wary glance at Canavar, then crossed the room in a few steps. “Sit on the bed, please.”

I obeyed like Canavar, going mute and pliable. The water was cold as her rag slapped against my shoulder, but it did feel good to get the dried blood wiped away, the bits Canavar hadn’t licked clean.

“There’s a good lass. Let’s get these rags off.”

These rags were the best fighting leathers I’d managed to scrap together over the years, but I was done arguing. I was done fighting.

If Canavar refused to fight, why should I? What was there left to fight for if he wouldn’t go with me?

Fight for yourself like you always have.

Why, though? Had it ever gotten me anywhere? My whole life I’d fought for my father’s approval, and for some kind of tangible proof that I had worth.

It didn’t matter how many battles I’d won, or how much plunder and resources I’d brought to the company. I wasn’t his idea of what he wanted, therefore I’d always be less.

I have no value to him except what is between my legs that could please another man.

What did that leave me with?

I knew I was worth more than a warm place for a man to stick his cock. I knew it. And if that was the case, then maybe I didn’t need anyone else’s approval. Maybe all I needed was my own.

It was a humbling thought; an embarrassing thought. I could say I’d fought and bled all those years to make myself a better fighter and to survive, but I knew deep down it wasn’t true. I’d done it all for a cruel man who didn’t give a shit about me.

You are still a good fighter. No one can take that away.

I didn’t know how to save Canavar. I had to keep trying to get him away. He wouldn’t want to breed with this female draken in a faraway kingdom. He–

I hung my head in shame.

I threw the abandoned clothes to the floor with a slap and stood naked. Something stirred in Canavar’s eyes as he stared at me, and I met his gaze fiercely, daring him to say or do something. But then he slumped back to the floor, tucking his head under a wing.

I’d been an idiot to think I could change anything my father had sunk his claws into. He was a master at manipulation and procuring loyalty. You’d think I’d have figured that out after being under his thumb for twenty years.

If you could break free though, so can Canavar. He just needs more help.

I forced down the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble up through my throat as the woman put me in an ivory dress, taking care to lace up each delicate button. I felt nude without breeches underneath the heavy layers.

I stumbled as I stepped on something, and bent down to retrieve it. On the pretense of fluffing the bottom of my dress, I grabbed it.

Canavar’s fang.It must have rolled out from the inner pocket of my leather vest.

I clutched it tightly in my hand, curling my fingers around it until my knuckles turned white.

The woman straightened and glanced at my hair, scoffing. She didn’t even attempt to mess with it.Good.I liked my braids. I’d cut her if she thought to touch them in any way.

She gave me a wary glance, then went to the door and banged on it twice. “She’s done. Let me out of here! Please!”

The reality of my situation came crashing back with a vengeance as my father opened the door and stared at me. The maid whimpered and ducked under his arm, but he caught her wrist without looking and held on. She gave one cry of pain, then went silent.

My father frog-marched the poor woman back into my tiny room, and two men followed behind him carrying a tub of water. A third followed with a bundle of clothes, which he threw on my cot. No one would look at my father, Canavar, or me. The men shuffled out as quickly as they could manage.

“You’re not done yet. You’re to bathe him and make him look respectable. And see to any other needs as well.” My father leered at the maid, his meaning clear.

Tears well at the corner of her eyes as she shot a fearful look to Canavar. “But—”

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