Farzanas spite, p.21
Farzana's Spite, page 21
Oh gods, what is happening?!
Banging. Screams. Thundering footsteps. Shouts of anger, pain, and authority. Farzana looked around the room, frantic for somewhere to hide. It’s not like she could run anywhere, and if the intruders were imps…
I’m going to die.
She choked on silent sobs and cowardice as she crawled with desperation toward her closet. The image of Laraf’s battered and bloody face haunted her when she heard another scream. Her heart broke in pieces as she dove behind her clothes.
Forgive me.
The bedroom door slammed open right as she pulled the closet door shut. Someone barked, “Find her!”
Farzana covered her mouth with both hands, snot dribbling from her nose as she hardly dared to breathe. She could hear several faeries slamming around the small room. She wouldn’t remain hidden for long.
“Here she is!” Someone grabbed her by the hair and yanked her out.
Farzana screamed, clawing at the hand holding her and writhing to get free. “Let me go!” She was flung to the floor and landed face-first onto a pair of shiny boots. Craning her neck, she looked straight up into a pair of infuriatingly familiar bright green eyes.
“Well, hello, sunshine,” Melara said with a wink.
“What the f—”
Something slammed into the side of Farzana’s head. A bright light burst behind her eyelids, and she crumpled into unconsciousness.
INTERLUDE
ERASTO WORKED TO direct his fuming attitude inward. It would be less than ideal to allow anyone to see the extent of how this had affected him. He hadn’t prepared for this occasion, because it should never have happened. Everything had been executed perfectly…and now this, this defiance. Rebellion. Even—dare he say it?—betrayal.
Fortunately it had been easy to track down his disobedient child. Her ability to so earnestly trust others had been her downfall once, and yet it seemed she was not quick to learn from her mistakes. A flaw passed down from her delicate mother, no doubt. Yes, fortunate for him indeed.
His meticulously and thoroughly laid out plans were as wayward as this child, full of dismaying tributaries of dysfunction. One could blame chaos, of course. And in doing so, wouldn’t it be clear to any that this was ironically Erasto’s own fault? It would be amusing, perhaps, if it wasn’t first and foremost utterly infuriating.
When had he last strode through the halls of this despicable House? The grand House of Amber; aristocratic enough to be called such, and yet so lacking in every other aspect. Its disappointing features had made it perfect for his plans of assimilation, but the spawn had been an undeniable mistake. He shouldn’t have been tempted by the flesh, the warmth. Those secret smiles, coaxed into existence solely for him. It should have been easy to manipulate Sitra for his ends while staying a safe distance away. And yet…
The redolent air of the House haunted him as he followed his guards to the library. The double doors stood open, awaiting his entrance, and he paused to ground himself. It wouldn’t do to allow any of these slimy faeries to observe his hectic emotions. He was better than them, in every way. He knew this. They knew this. This was not the time to display anything to the contrary.
“Good morning, everyone.” His voice drifted before him as he entered the room, his eyelids carefully lowered to the exact degree to convey boredom. As his glance landed on each faerie in turn, he drank in their fears, their panic, their embarrassingly bare emotions. Sitra, defeated and broken as she was, didn’t even raise her face to meet his. Just as well. Her parents too, frail and old as dust itself, drooped against each other, as if they could gain strength from each other’s presence alone.
Pitiful.
When his eyes alit on the young imp though, he saw the process of her temerity steel her spine. Her eyes bore into his with an intensity he would have loved to utilize. It seemed her spirit remained, perhaps even flourished within the company of this House. Astonishing, truly. These faeries had only ever flooded him with unease and disdain. His lips curved into a slow smile of their own accord, and he yearned to devour her vitality and leave her as a husk. But he was not here for her.
At last, he turned to his own flesh and blood. Melara, no doubt, had been the one to so expertly tie Farzana to the dining chair, those violet wings—his wings—pinned to her back. It looked painful. He hoped it was. Focusing on her, he glided forward in that easy movement which predators reserve for their prey.
“Farzana, you wound me. Have I not shown you every ounce of hospitality? Have you not wanted for nothing? And still, you run, despite knowing very well I am entitled to my claimed period of parental time. Tell me, is this fair?” He lowered himself to look at her face-to-face. Purple held purple, as he watched the conviction drain from her eyes. Finally, she looked away. He stood, assured in his victory.
“As I thought: a short-lived defiance. You may yet prove yourself to be a good child.” On the last word he turned to Laraf, sauntering to her. “So here is what we will do, daughter. You, the little one”—Laraf twitched—“and I will head back to my High Management Center. We will pretend this mess never happened. It will be as it should; we will be as one happy family.”
“No!”
The outburst cracked through the air around him and he stiffened. How dare she defy his word? He couldn’t help the glare that shot to Farzana as he approached her yet again. “No?” he whispered, not trusting steadiness in his voice if he were to raise it. No matter; she shivered and licked her lips in fear as he had hoped.
“I mean, not the little one. She…she’s a stupid baby, a nuisance. I’m t-tired of taking care of her. Please.” Her face took on an expression of desperation. “Don't make her come with us.”
Her attempt at assuaging him was feeble at best. After what she had done, she couldn’t possibly believe that he would give her what she wanted simply for the sake of wide eyes and a tremble. Still, she hadn’t argued against going back herself. Perhaps this small grace could secure a promise of good behavior from her. He had enough to manage without having to additionally keep his fickle offspring under the watchful eye of that Sapphire Aristo-fae. Another slip-up like this and the pixie would become of little use, and it was still too early in the game to waste subservient bodies.
“Indeed, she is an annoyance. Sniveling, whining. The little one can stay here for all I care.”
Farzana breathed a sigh of recognizable relief.
“Will you come with me willingly, daughter?” He stretched his hand to her, a symbol of a peace they both knew was a mockery of their arrangement. Better that she was bound, so he would not have to guess whether she would have sought his touch and given her acceptance.
She nodded. “Of course, Father.”
Erasto beamed at her, releasing the chokehold of his charm. He watched her face smooth out into relaxation in his presence, for the first time. Just like her mother, she proved to be so malleable. He needed to remember that she responded better to honey than pain, no matter how much fun inflicting pain on her entailed.
“I’m delighted to hear it. Melara, dear, untie my beloved daughter immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Melara responded. She sashayed to Farzana, hips swishing and green wings fluttering behind herself provocatively. He should remind her to control herself in the presence of others, else she would find herself barred from his bed. Her prettiness and skillful wielding of pleasure wasn’t enough to excuse her public indecency. After eliciting a hiss of pain from Farzana, Melara finished releasing her and came back to stand at his side, a smirk perched on her lips. Fine, then. He would discipline her later.
Erasto snapped his fingers, as much for her as for Farzana. “Come. I’m impatient to return home. The pixies in this House have always left me feeling ill.” After a swift and sweeping malevolent glance around the room, he turned on his heel and left.
CHAPTER 29
ALONE AND BACK in her room at The Center, Farzana lowered herself onto the bed and rocked back and forth, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn’t believe she was back in her gilded prison. Melara had betrayed them, and if she had told Erasto her location, she definitely told him about their plan or whichever part of it Araj had told her.
Araj!
Farzana shook with fury. He was the real betrayer, leading the enemy to her and letting them drag her back. Everything had been fine before he ruined it. Everything was a gods-damned dream come true before he brought Melara over.
If he ever showed his face again, she would…
She sighed. What would she do exactly? What could she do to the only person who had shown her kindness back when she was still a lowly bastard, working her ass off at the Fae Resource Manipulation and Distribution Center? The one who took her under his wing and helped her apply for a lower management position? The one who had taught her how to dance, held her hands and guided her body to make art?
Despite everything, she did still love him. She should have listened to Ettares and fled the country. Instead, she had trusted Araj’s attraction-fueled thinking and allowed herself to be captured again.
She had to stop blaming others for her own problems when it was all her fault. Why did she keep messing up? She was a veritable wreck of a pixie. She sprawled back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Whining about her situation wouldn’t change anything. She had to accept her fate. For the foreseeable future, that meant being stuck under Erasto’s thumb, locked away in his tower.
Someone would eventually stop Erasto, but it wouldn’t be Farzana. Hopefully the real hero came in to save them all—sooner rather than later.
FARZANA SETTLED BACK into her life at The Center with remarkable ease, as though her time away had simply been a dream. The difference, of course, was that she was back to being alone. Pangs of guilt struck her whenever she thought of little Laraf; Farzana hoped she was happier with the family than when she had been at The Center. At least she was safe and loved, free of Erasto’s control. That was more important than Farzana’s loneliness.
Farzana spent her days lazing in bed, watching random local channels on the mirror stream. The country was descending into chaos even without Erasto’s invasion; his new capitalist plan meant hundreds of job layoffs at various Centers all across the country, not just in The City. Apparently, it was more cost efficient to hire imps for labor because, according to Erasto, they didn’t have to be paid as much. He had implemented an ‘imp wage’ which was far below the normal wages set in place; companies all over were jumping at the chance to raise their profit margins.
Protestors marched in the streets as faeries demanded their jobs back. Violence against imps was at an all-time high as faeries blamed them for stealing their jobs. It seemed like every news channel had a story about an imp being attacked in broad daylight, and Farzana recoiled from the pictures they showed of the victims, some alive, some dead. Unable to handle it anymore, Farzana resorted to watching dance competitions, lamenting her own loss of graceful movements.
After a couple days alone in her room, a knock sounded on the outer door. Farzana shot up in bed to stare at the entrance. It wasn’t yet lunchtime, so it wasn’t someone delivering her meal. Could it be…? She didn’t want to get her hopes up at the thought of seeing a friendly face. But a moment later, another knock sounded, this one tentative.
“Come in,” she called, her voice rusty. The door creaked open, and a head poked through the crack.
“Hello?” Ettares called, looking around the empty sitting room before she spotted Farzana in the bedroom. Her icy eyes lit up, and she quickly stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Her figure was obscured by a bulky coat, which also hid her wings. She rushed over to Farzana’s side. “Oh gods! I’m so sorry, Farzana. Are you okay? Can I hug you?”
Farzana held her arms open wide in a silent invitation; Ettares gathered her into strong arms, held her tight. Farzana breathed in the scent of freesias and relaxed into the embrace, allowing some of the stress and anxiety of the past few days to melt away.
“I’m okay, just lonely,” Farzana said after a bit, easing away.
“That’s understandable! I went to the House of Amber the other day to pick you up and, of course, you were gone.” Ettares ran a hand through her curls, making them stand on end. “I would have come here sooner, but I was working. And I…” She trailed off, looking distraught.
Farzana gave her a small smile. “I know you get busy. It’s okay, really. How is my family? And how are you allowed to visit me when they know you helped me?”
“Your family is doing well. Erasto stuck by what he told you and hasn’t harassed them at all. Laraf is having more nightmares, but I guess that’s to be expected. As for me, I no longer have teleportation access here, but that doesn’t stop me from just taking the trolleys here and walking in. None of the guards even noticed me.”
“Should probably credit the coat for that,” Farzana quipped.
Ettares huffed out half a laugh and sat on the bed beside her. “We need to start your training,” she said, tracing a pattern on the blanket. Her fingers touched the faint stain of blood from where Farzana had fallen during the imp attack.
“Training?”
She nodded, looking Farzana in the eye. “I need to teach you self-defense. I’m not sure why I never did before, but now is as good a time to start as ever. You need it.”
Farzana balked. “B-but my leg! I can’t—I can’t do anything.”
Ettares jumped to her feet. “There is so much you can still do! You’re not a fighter, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn how to defend yourself. You’re not an invalid, Farzana.”
“I feel like one,” Farzana muttered, and Ettares shot her an exasperated look.
“Use it or not but I’m going to teach you anyway,” she said, gesturing for Farzana to stand. “Come on, let’s start.”
Farzana groaned but got to her feet anyway, feeling wobbly without her cane.
“Get in a fighting stance—whatever you think a fighting stance is.”
Farzana bent her knees slightly, bringing her hands up to chest level and curling them into tight fists.
“Okay, good. Now, I’m going to give you some corrections, and I want you to focus on them so you can remember them.”
With a gentle hand, she guided Farzana’s arms higher, tucked her right elbow close to her body, and loosened her fists. Farzana’s hands were at jaw level, which felt awkward as she worked to keep everything in the correct position.
“Why like this?” she asked, struggling to keep her arms tucked as well as up.
“The right elbow is protecting your liver. One hit to that and you could be incapacitated, though I doubt Erasto knows that. The hands should be up by your face to deflect any attacks aimed there; head injuries are disorienting, and you don’t want that in a fight.”
Farzana nodded, flexing her fingers and shifting her weight back and forth. “Why can’t I have fists?”
“Because the best deflection is an open palm, to smack away a fist or weapon coming at you. I’m teaching you self-defense, not how to attack. You don’t need fists.”
Farzana chose to ignore the mention of a weapon and instead looked down at her loosely curled fingers. “Ah. Makes sense. I don’t think I could attack anyone anyway.”
“You never know. One day, you might find a reason to attack someone. And on that day, you can use fists.”
“Any punching pointers?” Farzana asked with a grin; she jabbed at the air in front of her.
“Punch like you mean it. Aim with your last two fingers and throw your arm like you’re going to go straight through them.”
“Gotcha.” Farzana dropped her arms and relaxed, leaning against the bed for support. Standing without the use of her cane was exhausting.
“Okay, again,” Ettares said after letting her rest a moment.
“Ugh,” Farzana groaned before doing her best to get back in the same position. Elbow tucked, arms up, knees slightly bent…
“Hands,” Ettares said, circling her.
Farzana looked down at her hands; they were clenched into fists again. Sighing, she loosened them.
“Good,” Ettares said, coming to stand in front of Farzana. She had a crooked smile on her full lips, one fang shining in the light. “You look good.”
“I know,” Farzana said in a cocky tone, relaxing her stance.
Ettares chuckled. “I mean, yeah, in that sense too.”
Oh.
Farzana blushed, heat spreading across her face as she looked away and down at the blankets on the bed. That was the wrong place to look; she was staring at the dried blood stain and remembering the last time she and Ettares had been in the room together. She hadn’t been entirely lucid then.
“Hey,” Farzana said, tracing the blood stain. “Thank you, for saving me—us. I don’t think I could have survived another hit from that imp, and I know Laraf wouldn’t have made it.”
Ettares shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I did the decent thing, that’s all. You don’t need to thank me for it.”
“Incapacitating an imp… How did you even do that?”
Ettares rubbed the back of her neck, not meeting Farzana’s eye. “I…um, I cut her throat.”
Farzana gulped, wide eyed. “You—what?”
Tears glistened in Ettares's eyes. “I had to save you, Farzana. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t. So yeah, I ran in here, and I slit both of their throats. Then I grabbed you and Laraf, and I ran to the teleportation room and took you home.”
Farzana was speechless. Ettares had killed two imps, for her. How much blood was on her hands, really?
“You don’t understand,” she continued. “Seeing you there, seeing your face split open and your leg broken, and—and you were bleeding everywhere. Laraf was screaming…I couldn’t leave you. I did the only thing I could think of.”
