Tempest (The Chronicles of Winterset #2) - K.G. Reuss Page 0,88

It was an accident.” Calix cried out, his dark eyes wild.

“I know, sweetheart,” his mother cooed, pressing a cloth to Xalvador’s eye. When she pulled it away, there was a deep cut and she sighed. “Calixto, call for the palace healer—”

“No, Mother.” Xalvador pushed away from her. “I wish to wear this scar as a symbol of my first battle.”

“Xal,” she scolded.

“Please, Mother,” Xalvador begged.

She let out a sigh and relented.

“That is a true warrior,” a deep voice boomed, and Zaros stalked forward, his black robes billowing behind him. He didn’t look the way I’d seen him. Instead of the alabaster skin with black veins, he looked like a normal man, his beard thick and his voice stern. “Xalvador doesn’t cry when he gets hurt. He doesn’t beg for mercy. That is a future king.”

Xalvador beamed at his father, a tiny trail of blood leaking from his cut.

“But you—” Zaros turned to Calix. “—you are weak. You rushed to a woman to save you.”

He reached out and punched the tiny Calix in the stomach, causing him to double over and fall to the ground. His mother rose to her feet and went to Calix’s aide, but Zaros struck her across the face, sending her to the ground beside her son.

“Weakness breeds weakness,” Zaros spat at her as she covered Calix with her quivering body. “The boy is as useless as his mother. I’d have you strung up by your neck by now had you not given me Xalvador. Thank him.”

“Thank you, Xalvador,” his mother called out to her eldest son.

Zaros landed a kick to her ribs, and she rolled over clutching herself.

“Father,” Xalvador whispered, staring horror-stricken at his mother and brother on the ground. “Please.”

“Don’t ever beg.” Zaros snapped at him. “Only the weak and broken beg. You are neither. You’ll be a king someday. Act like it. Punish them.”

“Father,” Xalvador started again, his small voice shaking.

“Do it,” Zaros bellowed.

Xalvador stepped forward and looked pleadingly at his cowering mother. She nodded sadly at him, giving him permission for his abuse. He closed his eyes and sent a volley of earth and rocks at his mother and brother. They cowered beneath it until it became too strong and overcame them. When he stopped, both lay unconscious on the ground, and Xalvador’s eyes shone bright with his unshed tears.

“Well done, Son.” Zaros beamed proudly down at him. “You’re the future of Winterset.”

Zaros pulled Xalvador away, who continued to look behind him at his passed-out mother and brother. Zaros gestured for his guards to call for a healer.

The image faded away. Then I was pummeled with scenes of Calix and Xalvador growing up, Xalvador always the apple of Zaros’s eye while Calix was always brutally punished. I pushed through vision after vision of Calix caring for people, for animals, and Zaros finding out only to punish him harshly. He even left him to hang naked in the dungeons while the guards beat him with whips. Sometimes Zaros joined in, just like he was doing to me.

The scenes slowed down to a vision of their mother holding Calix out in a field of flowers, her smile loving.

“Don’t show your father fear, my love. It’s what he feeds on. When night falls, we’ll leave here with your brother and never look back,” she said, choked up.

“Mother, won’t he search for us?”

“He will, but he’ll never find us,” she said, hugging him. “I’d sooner die than live this life.”

The scene faded to night. I watched, my heart aching as I knew what was to come.

Calix and Xalvador quietly made their way down to where they were to meet their mother. They peered out from behind a bush as they saw her standing in the dark with a man.

“And where do you think you’re going,” Zaros whispered dangerously.

“I only wished to go for a walk,” she replied evenly. If I didn’t know better, I’d have believed her.

“Lies,” Zaros shouted, his guards coming forth and surrounding them.

Calix moved to run for his mother, but Xalvador clutched him tightly and shook his head no.

“You were planning on running off with my sons,” Zaros said darkly, his dark robes billowing in the night air. “I forgive you.”

“Excuse me, my lord?” she said, clearly confused.

“I said, I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what, my lord?” she asked.

“This,” he hissed plunging a dagger into her chest.

She made no sound as she stared at him, her eyes wavering in the moonlight. I tried to look away but couldn’t. It was