because he knows me better than anyone, but in this moment does not seem to know me at all.
The other part of me wishes he could see what I see; how twisted the court and my mother are, how the Bruma are not inferior - just different. “You may keep your judgments of my behaviour, brother. I will have these memories of what it feels like to be happy and to be loved by someone to carry me through my life.”
I slam the door as I leave, angry at Olandon and angry at myself for already feeling guilty over my very rare loss of temper. My robes flick out from my legs, twisting between my ankles with my angry stride. I’m not being discreet enough, several of the court watch, their posture stilling as I pass.
The form of Uncle Cassius taints the view of my windowsill when I reach my room. The timing could not be worse.
“What do you want?” I say, teeth gritted.
It is the first question I have ever dared to ask him. He stands and strides over to me, slapping me hard across the face.
Red colours my vision, and it all becomes too much.
My fist cuts under his chin and his head snaps back. I follow this with several jabs into his nose. He grabs his face and tries to turn away from me, his movements slow and lumbering. I aim blows to the areas I know will hurt the most; the kidneys, the face, the ribs and knees. Years of resentment and remembered pain are being channelled and unleashed through my fists. By the time I’m finished he is sobbing on the ground, pleading with me to stop.
I lower myself, still fuelled with fury, and put my mouth close to his ear. “Every time you feel the pain of your beating today, I hope you are reminded of your transgressions. You can only blame yourself, and must remember that today the Tatuma has shown mercy,” I hiss the last word and straighten.
“Get out,” I say and watch him scramble for the door, stooping with pain.
I sit on the windowsill and take time to commit every detail of what just happened to memory. A wide, savage grin on my face, I relish the triumph of making Cassius a whimpering mess. I feel pride in my victory. I do these things now, because I know I’ll be in bed recovering for a month once my mother gets word of what just happened. This is by far the worst thing I’ve ever done.
And it felt amazing.
The firelight dies as smoke fills the sky, and I think of Kedrick and of Olandon, and the twins. I shouldn’t have been so harsh with my brother. It was too easy to fall into resentment because he was raised so differently than myself. I hoped he would forgive me for my harsh words. Though they had been honest, they had been stoked by my bitterness and disappointment of the distance between Kedrick and myself.
I hear the rhythmic sound of marching footsteps down the hall. Standing up, I lock down my victory in the back of my mind.
The Elite escort me down to the far tower where the Torture room lies. The whispers of the court follow me down the hall. I pass Blaine, the complaining sneering delegate and see that he watches the show with interest.
None of the court ask what is happening because they all know. I am not fool enough to think my beatings are a secret. The escort to my mother’s secluded torture room, followed by weeks without my presence in the dining ring or a limping walk for several days. Every person here knows what their ruler does to her child and not one of them has ever lifted a finger. Oddly, it’s the one thing I cannot blame them for. Society on Osolis is governed so completely by the Tatum and always has been. To question the person who holds this title is more than treason, its shame and dishonour on you and your family. The kind of which is never forgotten. I can’t be sure I would risk this if I was in their position.
Dread fills the area under my ribs. One of the Elite shoves me forward. I stumble to a stop below the viewing balcony where mother is seated. Cassius is not present.
“I have seen Cassius,” she starts, in a voice
The other part of me wishes he could see what I see; how twisted the court and my mother are, how the Bruma are not inferior - just different. “You may keep your judgments of my behaviour, brother. I will have these memories of what it feels like to be happy and to be loved by someone to carry me through my life.”
I slam the door as I leave, angry at Olandon and angry at myself for already feeling guilty over my very rare loss of temper. My robes flick out from my legs, twisting between my ankles with my angry stride. I’m not being discreet enough, several of the court watch, their posture stilling as I pass.
The form of Uncle Cassius taints the view of my windowsill when I reach my room. The timing could not be worse.
“What do you want?” I say, teeth gritted.
It is the first question I have ever dared to ask him. He stands and strides over to me, slapping me hard across the face.
Red colours my vision, and it all becomes too much.
My fist cuts under his chin and his head snaps back. I follow this with several jabs into his nose. He grabs his face and tries to turn away from me, his movements slow and lumbering. I aim blows to the areas I know will hurt the most; the kidneys, the face, the ribs and knees. Years of resentment and remembered pain are being channelled and unleashed through my fists. By the time I’m finished he is sobbing on the ground, pleading with me to stop.
I lower myself, still fuelled with fury, and put my mouth close to his ear. “Every time you feel the pain of your beating today, I hope you are reminded of your transgressions. You can only blame yourself, and must remember that today the Tatuma has shown mercy,” I hiss the last word and straighten.
“Get out,” I say and watch him scramble for the door, stooping with pain.
I sit on the windowsill and take time to commit every detail of what just happened to memory. A wide, savage grin on my face, I relish the triumph of making Cassius a whimpering mess. I feel pride in my victory. I do these things now, because I know I’ll be in bed recovering for a month once my mother gets word of what just happened. This is by far the worst thing I’ve ever done.
And it felt amazing.
The firelight dies as smoke fills the sky, and I think of Kedrick and of Olandon, and the twins. I shouldn’t have been so harsh with my brother. It was too easy to fall into resentment because he was raised so differently than myself. I hoped he would forgive me for my harsh words. Though they had been honest, they had been stoked by my bitterness and disappointment of the distance between Kedrick and myself.
I hear the rhythmic sound of marching footsteps down the hall. Standing up, I lock down my victory in the back of my mind.
The Elite escort me down to the far tower where the Torture room lies. The whispers of the court follow me down the hall. I pass Blaine, the complaining sneering delegate and see that he watches the show with interest.
None of the court ask what is happening because they all know. I am not fool enough to think my beatings are a secret. The escort to my mother’s secluded torture room, followed by weeks without my presence in the dining ring or a limping walk for several days. Every person here knows what their ruler does to her child and not one of them has ever lifted a finger. Oddly, it’s the one thing I cannot blame them for. Society on Osolis is governed so completely by the Tatum and always has been. To question the person who holds this title is more than treason, its shame and dishonour on you and your family. The kind of which is never forgotten. I can’t be sure I would risk this if I was in their position.
Dread fills the area under my ribs. One of the Elite shoves me forward. I stumble to a stop below the viewing balcony where mother is seated. Cassius is not present.
“I have seen Cassius,” she starts, in a voice
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