The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4)(83)

“We haven’t discussed that fully, yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Uindraely,” Donrey Avanti cut in sharply as he eyed Seth with obvious anger. “Seth turned on me, but he has served me for so long that he is almost like family. Some betrayals can be forgiven.” He paused and glared down at his daughter. “Others can’t,” he added softly as he drew a dagger from his belt and examined the razor sharp blade. “Seth did not turn his back on me alone. He was guided from my side by this little bitch. I don’t believe for a moment that Seth wanted to save the world. Seth is a creature of hatred, not a savior.”

“I doubt it was his love of people that led him to betrayal. I doubt it was Dashara either. Most likely it was simply his hatred for you,”

Uindraely mused softly.

Dashara’s eyes met his again and Seth shifted his gaze toward Dominic and then Davahni hoping she would realize he was indicating the children rather than their captors. He saw the recognition in her eyes and she smiled at him sadly and nodded almost imperceptibly.

“You can kill me, but you can’t kill what I stand for. There will always be someone to take my place. As long as you walk the path you are on, someone will always rise up against you.” The room fell silent as Dashara spoke and even Uindraely’s smile faded. “I love you, Seth, and I know you love me too. They can take everything else, but they can’t take that. I don’t need to hear the words. I can see it in your eyes,” Dashara whispered.

“How sweet,” Donrey hissed as the back of his hand slammed into Dashara’s face nearly knocking her from the chair. “No one else will rise against me, you stupid little bitch. When they see what happened to you, they will cower back into the shadows. No one has the strength of Avanti and no one cares about slaves. You threw everything away for worthless wastes of flesh.” His hand slammed into her, punctuating every word until tears began to stream from her eyes. A faint whimper bubbled through her broken lips and Seth’s heart screamed for him to help her. Dashara had never been strong physically. Pain was a weakness for her and he had always tried hard to shield her from harm. He swallowed heavily and struggled to maintain his iron control. His children depended on it.

“Avanti will fall and you will pay for your sins.” Dashara managed the words barely coherent through her battered mouth and sobs. “No life is worthless,” she gasped as her father grabbed her by the face roughly.

“Yours is, Dashara,” Donrey informed her as he lifted the dagger up high enough for her to see. He held her jaw firmly, preventing her from looking away as he lowered the tip to rest just below her eye. “I am going to kill you so slowly that simply the stories of your death will spread nightmares. Anyone who ever shared sentiments with you will cringe at the sound of your name. When I am done tonight, the name Dashara will be a curse,” he promised as the blade slowly punctured her pale ivory skin. Bright blood welled and coursed down her battered cheek as he slowly pulled the knife down her face, skinning the top layer of flesh. “Bring me the salt, Uindraely,” Donrey ordered in a low voice as Dashara screamed in agony.

A faint whimper rose from Dominic and Hemlock shook his head in disapproval. “We talked about this, boy. Do you really want me to cut your sister for your noise?” The sound abruptly faded, though Dominic’s bottom lip still trembled.

The boy turned and gazed hard at his father and Seth wanted to vomit at the expression of betrayal on his son’s face. The child’s words were written so clearly in that look that he didn’t need to hear Dominic’s voice. “Why aren’t you saving Mommy?” Seth had always been a hero in his son’s eyes. Dominic had considered him invincible in every fight and knew he would always protect them, until now. Hemlock’s game had destroyed more than Dashara’s rebellion, and from the smile on the man’s lips, he knew it.

“Violence begets violence, Dominic. Your daddy has been a very violent man. He has killed ten people for every drop of your mother’s blood that is spilling, and I promise there will be a lot of blood spilled. Just think of how many families your daddy destroyed just like this.” Hemlock spoke in a gentle voice, but his attention was focused on Seth as he spoke with just the barest gleam of his eyes visible through the hood of his cloak. “What do you think of that Dominic? It’s OK to talk since I asked you a question. I won’t hurt anyone if you answer.”

“I hate you,” Dominic whimpered, his small voice barely audible over his mother’s screams. Seth swallowed heavily but showed no reaction to the words beyond that. He wasn’t sure if the boy was speaking to him or Hemlock, but it still cut to the bone. No matter how many years passed, he didn’t think Dominic would ever understand why he hadn’t drawn his swords. He might have won against Hemlock, but not Uindraely and Donrey as well. There was simply too much power in the room to gamble. The odds were too far against him, and failure meant losing everything. He would never forgive himself for Dashara’s death, but at least his children would survive. Another scream of agony tore through the room and Uindraely giggled in amusement. Seth let his gaze rise to her and then to Dashara. “I will kill everyone in this room before I rest,” he promised himself silently. He couldn’t kill them now, but he would see them die eventually.