The Silver Siren (Iron Butterfly, #3)(17)

“Child, why are you so upset over this one? If it wasn’t him, it would be you.”

“Because he saved me,” I cried out. My chest felt heavy with emotion. “Over and over again he saved me. I owe him my life. And frankly, if he died right now because of this, I would never be able to forgive him. I would hate him till the day I died.”

Alba shook her head at my stubborness. “If it’s not death, then his punishment at dawn is to the very brink. Tortured and beaten till he wished for death. Would that suit you?”

My breathing ragged, it took me a few moments to comprehend her form of mercy still demanded pain. I sat up. “How could you do that to your own? That’s almost worse than death.”

“Yes, it is, but that is our law.”

“It’s a barbaric law,” I seethed.

Her eyes narrowed and she looked into my face accusingly. “Thalia Valderstal, are you saying that your clan laws are less barbaric than ours?”

“I…I…uh—how do you know my name?”

“I wouldn’t speak about barbaric customs and laws, until you look deep into your own family history.”

“I know my family history. Yes, there are some things our clan does that I’m not proud of, but I’ve been trying to change things for the better.”

“You don’t even know if your own clan will allow you to lead. You’re not like them.” Her hand reached out and covered my blue eye, so that I only saw her with the horrible silver one. “Just as I thought.” She pulled her hand back and poked me hard in the chest. “It’s weak, but it’s there.”

“You know what’s happening to me?” A single burst of hope started to rise. “What is wrong with me? How can I change it back?”

Alba scoffed and stood. “I see why he brought you here, thinking that this,” she waved at my eye, “might validate all of the wrong things he has done. But it hasn’t. There is much he hasn’t told you. If he did, you might want to change your mind about his punishment. Besides, you can’t change it back. You can’t make something disappear when it’s always been there.”

“What do you mean?” I called out, but Alba was already shuffling off into the back of the house.

I turned to follow her, but a calloused hand grabbed me around the neck and directed me to the front. I twisted my neck out of the grip and turned to glare at Gwen. Someone else came and grabbed my elbow, and the pair roughly escorted me outside. Gwen seemed to be taking her jealous anger out on me. By the next day, I would have huge bruises. They led me around the building, and I tried to search for Kael, but I couldn’t see where they had taken him. I should have fought, should have stopped them, but instead, I began working on a plan.

Gwen stopped in front of a small stone shed that butted up to the back of the house.

“We haven’t had company of any sort in many, many years, so this will have to make do for now,” she said.

Two more hands grabbed each of my arms and began to lift me off of the ground and force me into the shed.

“Wait! What are you doing with Kael? Stop this…ouch!”

With a shove, I was thrown into the dark shed. The heavy wooden door creaked shut behind me. My lip stung. Somehow in my struggle I had been elbowed in the lip. I raised my hand to touch it and winced. I should be panicking, pacing, screaming in suffocating heat that was my prison.

Instead, I sat down, crossed my legs, and waited.





Chapter 10



One of the hardest lessons I never learned was patience.

My clan was certainly not known for it. I despised it as well as the craziness that comes with being idle for long periods of time. I decided it was worse torture than splinters under my nails.

I counted to ten thousand—twice. During that span, I felt the air around me become cooler.

It was time.

I stood up and stretched out my arms and legs, did a few squats, then headed to the locked door. I had listened very carefully over the last few hours, and I didn’t hear anyone outside guarding my little shed. I could only hope it was because Alba hadn’t suggested more precautions against me. My father had a saying about people that assumed things.

Leaning against the door, I brushed my fingers over the chilled metal lock and felt around it for the dense wood frame. My hand grew warm, and I bit my lip as I concentrated. I was phenomenal at destroying things in big showy explosions, or anything that I could just let loose on. Smaller tasks that required more thought, more tact, and more skill were beyond my training, except for healing. That was just encouraging the body in what it already wanted to do—protect and heal itself.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, and I shifted my weight. I was trying to break open the lock quietly. If I had a set of lock picks or Joss’s ability to teleport, I would probably have been better equipped. Instead, I kept my focus on breaking the wood around the lock.

The beam grew warm and I could feel it start to warp under my hand. I heard the first faint creak followed by a crackling noise as the wood buckled. I waited a few seconds for someone to give a cry of an alarm, but there was silence. I continued my attack on the frame, slowly. As I pushed more power toward the wood, the strain on the wood intensified, and it cracked. The large lock fell off and the whole door shifted down. Jumping back, I waited in case the door fell off. It slowly swung outward.