Tavvy stood as well, moving to stand behind my chair. The twins, surprisingly, remained at the table, eating.
Maybe not surprising, if the looks they threw Marcella were any indication.
Tavvy pushed my chair forward, down the hallway and into Father's office.
The room was as sophisticated and elegant as the man itself, a modern, mahogany desk freshly polished in the very center. A bookshelf devoid of any books took up one wall, and the window was open. The smell of salt wafted to me, and I knew that this room overlooked the immense saltwater lake.
Rummaging through his desk drawer, Father procured a small bottle housing a tawny brown liquid.
"Drink," he instructed stiffly. My body screamed at me to rebel, to fight, but my mind warned me against it. Not only was I practically useless against two grown, powerful men who could walk, I also had more to lose than they did. I had no doubt that one act of disobedience would cause harm on the people I loved.
The concoction I drank was created by the Mage King, designed to regrow limbs, tissue, and skin.
The second the warm liquid touched my throat, fire emitted in my veins. The burning feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant, but pinpricks of phantom pain erupted where my legs should've been. That was soon replaced by real pain, so intense that my back arched and tears welled in my ears.
I could feel my skin growing, my bones expanding, my muscles constricting. I didn't even have to open my eyes to see that where there were once stubs were now two golden legs. My legs.
Gifted to me by my father.
I heard rather than saw a blade being sharpened. I didn't want to open my eyes and see their mocking stares and condescending smiles. However, that didn't mean I couldn't hear.
Couldn't feel.
The first cut of the knife sliced through skin only, and I cried out at the initial stab of pain. I knew it would only get worse.
My father's rancid breath entered my nostrils as he leaned over me, and I gagged.
"We gave you these legs..." A knife cut down once more just below my knees. "And we can take them away just as easily. Remember that when you think to disobey or talk back to me."
And so, with bated breath, I fell into a cycle of endless torment.
As always, my cries and pleas fell on deaf ears.
THIRTEEN
Z
The dress was beautiful.
The type of ethereal beauty that you would glance at once and then find yourself unable to look away from.
Staring in the mirror, I felt like a princess. It was something I had never felt before, and something I didn't even know I wanted to feel before.
The bodice was ornately tailored, modestly clutching my breasts and revealing very little cleavage. Long sleeves, a darker blue than the rest of the dress, were similarly adorned with light blue flowers. From there, the skirt cascaded around me like pure silk. It swished around my legs as I walked.
I kept my blond hair down but decided to straighten it. The golden hair still retained some wave to it, but it was no longer a mess of curls. I wore minimal makeup - enough to bring color to my cheeks and heighten my eyes - but what really completed the outfit was the pair of earrings I had found left on my bed.
I couldn't be certain which one of my mates had given me such a gift, but the female in me cooed. They were long, crafted from pure gold, and led to an intricate combination of circles that touched my neck with each shake of my head.
I normally hated dresses, despised dressing up, but I couldn't deny how beautiful I felt as I looked in the mirror. I looked like a female who was actually worthy of her seven princely mates.
Of course, I kept two daggers on my thighs and a razor blade beneath my dress sleeve. Some things would never change.
"You look beautiful," a soft, familiar voice said from behind me. I spun, skirt billowing around me, and met Atta's dark eyes. She smiled conspiratorially, flashing me a wink. "Those guys of yours aren't going to know what hit them."
She spoke as if we were old friends, best friends, and a part of me hated her for it. The other part of me yearned for the companionship she was freely offering. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but loneliness constantly threatened to drown me. Consume me. It was eating away at me ever so slowly.
I missed Diego so badly that it hurt. And I missed Mali, despite everything she had done. My loneliness was a bottomless pit of pure darkness, threatening to chew me up and spit me out. I wouldn't survive such a fall, and I didn't even know if I wanted to.
"What are you doing here?" I asked stiffly, turning back towards the mirror in my room.
I heard Atta's heavy sigh from behind me.
"I just want to be your friend, Z. I don't have any evil intentions. I need a friend, and I know you do too. You're my brother's mate, for fuck's sake. Why wouldn't I want to get to know you? Befriend you?" She spoke with such conviction, pulling the words deep from her heart, that I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe her so badly that I nearly started crying.
I didn't, of course, but I wanted to.
Frowning, I fiddled with the sleeves of my dress.
"You don't have to answer me," Atta continued. "And you don't have to forgive Mali. She made a huge mistake; we both know that. It took me awhile to forgive her myself, and I didn't even know Diego-"
"You're right," I snapped, spinning once more on my heel. "You didn't know him, so you couldn't possibly understand what
