on it.” King Armando walked over to the shelf where the whip was encased. “Hector’s, to be exact. And a little of mine, as well.” He put his hand on the glass, staring down at the weapon. “If you can make someone fear you, you will make that person your subject. A favorite lesson of my father’s — even for his own sons. But he didn’t make me fear him by hurting me; he was more cunning than that.”
He paused, glancing over at me as if waiting for me to ask.
“What did he do?” I forced out, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I didn’t want to pity this man, or Damian’s father.
“If I disappointed him in some way, if I didn’t meet his expectations, he didn’t beat me. He made me watch while he beat Hector, because of me.” King Armando’s eyes flashed with fury. “People are often willing to suffer quite a bit themselves for their failures. But it’s another thing entirely to watch someone else suffer — someone innocent — because you made a mistake.”
I struggled to swallow past the lump of disgust that had lodged just above my stomach.
“It was a brutal lesson. Brutal but effective. I feared my father. He controlled my life because of that fear.”
“But not forever. Eventually your fear grew into something stronger — and you exacted your revenge,” I pointed out.
“Which is why I am even more ruthless with my subjects than he was with me. He made me fear him enough to control me when I was young. But he didn’t break me. Eventually, my fear made me strong.” When he looked at the whip again, it was no longer anger on his face but a chilling twist of delight and triumph. “Beating my brother kept me in his control only until I grew strong enough to do something about it. Until I grew powerful enough to invade Antion and take it for Hector, and then return home to kill my father and take his throne for myself.
“So instead of beating those who disobey me,” he continued, “I kill them. Or their loved ones. I take their women and use them to breed my sorcerers. I claim their children for my experiments. My people don’t just fear me — they are terrified of me. I have broken them so that they will never have the strength to turn their fear into revenge.”
I stared at him. The tiny fluttering of pity I’d felt turned to pure, sickening horror. A sudden ghastly understanding of Hector and what he’d done in Antion wrapped around my heart like the barbs on that whip. The boys being forced into the army, the murder of all sorcerers when he came into power, the breeding house — all of it was to control his people. It was to terrify us into submission. He’d killed his own wife to control his sons. It was his attempt to emulate his older brother’s methods and, perhaps, even try to surpass them. To prove to Armando that he, too, could be strong — which to them, meant being utterly ruthless.
“But that is enough of that,” Armando said, turning away from the shelf and striding back to his desk. “I brought you here tonight so that we might dine together and discuss my vision of the future. I also invited one of the men who has been at my side, helping me, for decades.” Armando sat down with a flourish, tossing the cape he wore so that it billowed out behind him.
“This is the Duke of Montklief, Alexa.” He gestured to Rafe’s father. The smaller man still standing at the king’s side glared at me, not even attempting to conceal his loathing. “He came to me twenty years ago and offered his twin son and daughter to be experimented upon. I didn’t have to take them from him; he freely gave me his children to demonstrate his loyalty to me. That is powerful, my dear girl. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I didn’t respond, too nauseated and angry to dare speak. What of his wife — their mother? Had she no say in the matter? I couldn’t imagine giving my children to this mad king for any reason. I would have rather died protecting them.
The duke glared at me, abhorrence easily visible in his eyes. He’d obviously been told about his daughter’s death. King Armando glanced up at him, then over at me, his own gaze calculating.
“You’ll have to forgive his lack of