Broken (The Captive #5.5)(35)
"Are you hurt?" Camille asked anxiously.
"I'll be fine."
"What were you thinking Genny?" she whispered.
Genny turned her head to look at Camille. Her eyes were filled with worry and there were fine lines around her pinched mouth as she stared anxiously back at her. "That I want to be free," she breathed. "That I've had enough of being scared of him. But it seems I've only made things worse."
Camille shook her head and curled up against her side. Genny draped her arm around her sister. A small cry escaped her as the movement jarred her broken ribs but she pulled Camille closer. "They can't get any worse," Camille said.
Genny thought over Felix's parting words and knew that things could definitely get worse; they could get much worse. Her fingers involuntarily drifted to the healing marks on her neck that were hidden beneath her tunic.
Maybe I should tell Atticus, she thought. It would be embarrassing and awful, but she was willing to endure that humiliation if it meant Camille would be safe from Felix.
CHAPTER 12
"Why were you sent for me?" Atticus asked as he and Merle made their way through the woods.
Merle shook his head. "I wasn't lying, I don't know, but I don't think it was for anything good."
Atticus frowned over Merle's words. "What makes you think that?"
"A caravan arrived today, while both of us were out."
"A caravan?"
Merle's shoulders slumped as he turned to face him. "From what I gathered from the servants, there were a couple of women with the nobleman that arrived, but they weren't his wife. I can only think of one reason why whoever it is would bring women with them."
A feeling of dread slid up his spine. "Our fathers wouldn't ambush us like that and we're too young for talk of marriage."
Merle's eyes were haunted when they met his. "There's a reason why we're still in this dreary country. Our fathers may have been born here but they are not a fan of this land either."
Atticus's hands squeezed his reins. The scent of asters still clinging to his clothes and the persistent taste of Genny's blood would keep him calm for only so long before he lost his patience entirely. He was fighting against turning Drago around and disappearing into the woods but there was no way he could do that now. Even though he felt like he might be walking into face his own death, there was no running from whatever waited for him at home.
It had started to rain again by the time they returned to the manor; the gray skies fit his mood perfectly as he handed Drago's reins over to the stable boy. Stepping outside of the stable, he spotted the four large carriages parked beside the building. The emblem of a serpent twining around a sword on the sides of the carriages caused his uneasiness to grow.
"Silas," he muttered. His presence here could not mean good things.
His gaze drifted to the manor. Candlelight flickered in the windows but the warmth of the flames did nothing to make the austere building appear more inviting. He'd rather stand here in the rain all night than walk in there.
Merle remained unmoving by his side, just as hesitant as he was to enter that building. "The House of Salaze," Merle murmured when he spotted the serpent emblem.
The House of Salaze was the aristocratic bloodline only a step below Atticus's own, and Silas was the head of it. The sick feeling in his stomach got even worse as he looked back at the carriage, he could almost feel the noose tightening around his neck. "We'd better get it over with."
"It's the end of our lives," Merle muttered.
In other circumstances Atticus would have told him not to be so dramatic but unfortunately in this case, he agreed with him. He took strength in Genny's lingering scent as he walked with Merle toward the manor. A male servant met them in the entranceway and stripped them of their damp cloaks.
"Your father would like to see you both in his solar, milord," the servant murmured.
"I'm sure he does," Atticus muttered as he stared at the empty great hall.
Merle's upper lip curled in disgust, for a minute Atticus thought he was going to walk out, but he threw his shoulders back as he turned toward Atticus. "I think I'd rather face a guillotine."
Atticus knew that he would rather face a guillotine, but he still walked into the great hall and toward the stairs beyond with Merle at his side. Their boots clicked on the stairs as they made their way to the closed door of his father's solar. Bracing himself, he raised his hand and tapped out three loud raps on the wooden door.
"Come in!" his father's strident voice called out.
Even before he stepped into the room, he knew his days of freedom were coming to an end. The sight of Silas sitting in the chair across from his Uncle Nyles still caused unexpected resentment to surge brutally through his chest. Silas's steel colored eyes focused upon him, the candlelight light flickering off of his golden hair made it appear almost reddish in hue. Atticus stared relentlessly back at the man, refusing to be cowered by his impressive size, intimidating gaze or the fact that there were few vampires more powerful than Silas.
"There is much power within him Thaddeus," Silas said approvingly to his father. They'd seen each other at The Council meeting but they hadn't spoken with each other and Silas had barely given him a second glance. Apparently there had been more going on behind the scenes of that meeting than he had realized though.