even begin to reflect how magnificent you truly are. And I’m offering you an escape from drudgery, from the dullness of being second-class citizens. I’m offering you greatness and glory—carpe diem!”
I want to look to my sisters but I can’t, I can’t pull my eyes from him. As if I’m watching the premonition of my own death made manifest. I’m seeing how my heart will be ripped from my chest and I can’t look away.
“Look, my dears.” Wilhelm Grimm steps forward. “I want the chance to be a good father to you now. And isn’t it what every father wants, to see his daughter flourish to her full potential?” He stops. “But I won’t force it upon you. Ultimately the decision is yours.”
I think of the soldier I killed, I think of my stepfather.
“Oh, Goldie.” My father smiles, as if I’d spoken my thoughts aloud. “I’m afraid the murder of that mortal hardly counts. And the extermination of soldiers is immaterial. You’ll have to do better than that.”
I stare at him, saying nothing. What can I say to the one who sets the rules?
“So.” He starts to pace—a far more chilling general than Bea had been. “Given that you all have delicious amounts of death and darkness pulsing through your veins right now, I’m thinking you’re ready to embrace”—he brings his finger and thumb together, leaving a sliver of moonlight between them—“A soupçon of evil . . . What do you say?”
I sneak a glance at my sisters. But they aren’t looking at me, they’re still fixed on him, terrified. Except for Bea, who’s gazing at our father as if he’s an angel, a prophet, the love of her damnable life.
“Oh, please.” He stops pacing to sigh. “Don’t pretend to be so puritanical. You’re almost there. You only need to take the last teeny, tiny step. I know you got a taste for it, didn’t you, dear Ana?”
I snap my head round to Liyana, who’s silent now, all bravado evaporated. I too am wilting in the presence of my father. I press my feet into the moss, wondering how Ana might react. She doesn’t move.
“Oh, come now, don’t be such spoilsports. Give me a chance to be a father, after so long. I’ll be the papa bear, you be my cubs, and I’ll show you how much fun you can have in the dark!”
He waits for one of us to speak. None of us do.
“I must say, I’m disappointed by your manners.” He scowls at us, deepening the furrows etched into his face. “Didn’t your mothers teach you anything?”
Where the hell is Leo?
I feel Scarlet twitch beside me. Instinctively, I reach for her hand, then instantly let go—her skin is so hot it’s like sticking my fingers into fire. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
“Well then,” our father continues, “I see I’ll have to educate you myself. We’ve clearly got a lot to catch up on.”
Liyana looks up, meeting his eye. “I’ll learn nothing from you.”
I stare at my sister in shock. Scarlet and Bea stare at her too, incredulous.
“On the contrary, my little Ana,” Wilhelm says, “judging by how gleefully you boiled your soldier alive, I’d say you’ve already learned quite a lot.” He grins again, his mouth like a furnace, his tongue turned to flames. “And how about you, Red? I did so enjoy watching you incinerate that hapless boy—but not as much as you enjoyed doing it, I’d wager.”
Scarlet says nothing.
“What?” He waits. “Wolf got your tongue?”
I wonder if it’s possible that Leo’s deserted, abandoning me to my fate to save his own life.
“You might be right.” My father catches my eye. “He should be here by now, shouldn’t he?”
I try to shrug but can’t. My shoulders are frozen in place, as if I’ve finally turned into a tree, a soft little sapling. My father, the redwood, towers above me.
“Don’t worry.” He smiles. “Leo will get what’s coming to him. Speaking of which, time is ticking on. So if you’re not going to join me, then I’m afraid we’ll have to part.”
At this, Scarlet takes a step back. She tries to take another but, all at once, she’s stuck fast, as if she’d taken root in the soil.
“Your mother was right about one thing, my dear.” Wilhelm’s eyes flash. “If you don’t go dark then I’m afraid I’ll have to—quel est le mot juste?—slaughter you.”
“I . . . If—if I do . . .” My voice is a whisper on the breeze. “Will you