Daughter of Dusk

*TW: Depictions of Abuse*

I’ve only been in the study a handful of times, but it reminds me of a more private, intimate version of my precious library. The room is much smaller, but nearly every wall is lined with shelves that reach the top of the relatively low ceilings; or, lower than the hall outside, at least. The shelves are lined with uniform, meticulously organized black bound books – just like the library – filling the room with the same leathery scent. But where the smell puts me at ease in the library, here it makes the air feel heavy. Suffocating.

In the center of the room sits Father, behind a large, dark wooden desk littered with stacks of papers. But the piles themselves are almost unnaturally orderly, standing pristinely on the surface. Not even the smallest corner is out of place. I can’t begin to understand the system he uses to organize things, but it’d be the sort of thing where he would absolutely know if someone went through his things.

Not that it hasn’t tempted me to have a peek. But I’ve never acted on that impulse.

My hands start trembling again, and I try my best to take a centring breath. I glance around as a dark smoke lingers in the dark corners of the room, coiling around the books like they’re searching for a way to escape the confines of such a small space. But then they focus on me and hover in my peripheral, waiting for their time to strike.

“You wanted to see me, Father?”

“Yes.” He pushes aside the document he was working on, leaning back and looking at me with his cold, sharp eyes. “Melinoe tells me she was unable to find you last night. What do you have to say for yourself?”

My throat runs dry. “I – I was between my room and the library. But I did go for a walk in the evening, perhaps that’s why she didn’t see me.”

“Hmm.” He pauses for an uncomfortably long period of time as she shadows darken around him, and I think part of it is on purpose. His dark gaze is questioning and calculating at the same time, as though he is trying to decide how to play the interaction. He props his elbow onto the desk, leaning his chin against his palm. He twirls his pen in his other hand, tap . . . tap . . . tapping it on the desk at a quiet, irregular beat, threatening to deafen me in the process.

Don’t let him manipulate you, Luna. Don’t let him.

“That certainly is interesting,” he continues, “because Soren just informed me that his mother, who was previously on death’s door, is now inexplicably back to her former self in one night. That’s an odd situation, isn’t it?”

My heart drops. So, he does suspect me.

“It is. I’m glad she is feeling better.”

He leans forward, fixing his dark brown eyes on mine. “I think you and I both know there’s only one way someone could have made such a miraculous recovery.”

I stifle a gasp. How did he back me into a corner so easily?

“My daughter, the little healing escape artist,” he says with an unnerving flourish that makes me cringe. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

I can’t lie my way out of this. He knows too much.

“I . . . I did heal her, that’s true. But I didn’t know that was Soren’s mother.”

“Really now? Because the connection makes me think you and that boy are conspiring together.”

No, I won’t let him bring Soren into this. I won’t.

I quickly shake my head. “No. The only time I’ve spoken to him is when he came to collect me just now. He wasn’t even there when I healed his mother. I . . . I heard people in the village nearby speaking of someone who was sick, and I offered my help. Nothing more.” A hint of courage flickers in my heart. “But what’s wrong with using my abilities to help people? I saved someone, someone in your realm.”

His expression hardens. “You are meddling in things you don’t understand, Luna.”

“What don’t I understand? She needed help.”

His gaze darkens at my words, snuffing out whatever bravery was sparking to life within me.

“Because –” he stops himself, pressing his lips together with a frustrated exhale. “No matter. It’s done. I’ll figure it out. The more pertinent issue is that you blatantly disobeyed me. I ask one simple thing of you, to never leave this Manor, and you can’t even do that. What could you possibly want to leave anyway? What else did you do in that village?”

“I – nothing. Nothing at all. I swear.” I pause. “And you’d have heard about it if that was the case, right?”

“Hmm.” He narrows his eyes. “Adolescent rebellion is unbecoming of you. Nox and Melinoenevertested me like this. After all I’ve done for you, taking you in when I could have left you behind with your dying mother. And this is the thanks I get?”

“I didn’t mean any offence, I just . . .” His words carve a hole in my chest, and my heart drops to the floor. “My mother is dead?”

“Yes.” He says it so unceremoniously, like a fact that isn’t even important enough to evoke any sort of emotion.

Pressure builds in my throat, and I shut my eyes tight, fighting back tears. “How can you be so cruel? Did you even care about her at all?”

His persona shifts to an eerie sense of calm as he sits back in his chair. “Why are you getting so emotional? Don’t try and change the subject on me now, girl.”

Confusion surrounds me like a never-ending whirlwind spinning faster than I can comprehend, and the pain in my heart becomes the only thing I can make sense of. “I’m as much her daughter as I am yours. And now she’s gone.” A shaky exhale escapes me. “You haven’t told me anything about her, just that she’s a traitor. That being her daughter is the reason I can’t be seen outside here. But how do her actions have anything to do with me? What about her made me this way?”

His tone remains impartial, but the dark aura surrounding him grows in time with the shadows of the room. “I’ve told you everything you need to know about her. Her traitorous blood in your veins makes you illegitimate, a symbol of weakness in my legacy. I am not having this conversation with you again.”

Something about his words hits a nerve in me. Any fear or heartache I might have been feeling before this has mutated, hot anger radiating beneath my skin.

“But why? Why don’t I get to know any more than that? She’s the reason I can heal, isn’t she?”

“Enough, Luna.”

I can feel my emotions running away from me, but I don’t have the strength to stop them. “What did she do? And why am I blamed for it? I never even met her!” My voice breaks. “It’s not even my fault I am the way I am! Your actions created me.”

“I said enough!”

Before I can even blink, he stands and the shadows surrounding him pull together before throwing an inky flurry of daggers at me. I flinch, shutting my eyes tight and making a haphazard shield to protect myself as the knives blow past me like a harsh winter’s storm. They land in what I think is the bookshelf behind me, with a deafening thud that tunnels into my ears.

I hesitantly open my eyes, and they widen as I focus on one of the knives lodged in my barrier, hovering around my right shoulder. A warning of what could have been.

The breath leaves my vibrating body, like the lingering darkness is sinking its claws into me, turning my blood to stone.

This was a mistake.

This was all a mistake.

I shouldn’t have pushed.

I shouldn’t have done any of this.

He sits back down, letting out a frustrated sigh, but I remain paralyzed. Trapped as my fear coils around me like a snake, and I’m unable to make a sound, to think, to feel, to breathe, anything.

Melinoe has attacked me more times than I can count, but this is the first time Father has attempted to.

He tried to hurt me.

He wanted to hurt me.

It’s as though darkness swallows me whole, stealing all the light from me to keep itself alive, smothering me in its grasp.

“I’m extremely disappointed in you, Luna. Not only for your blatant disregard for the very simple rules I have laid out for you, but for your behaviour as well. I will not tolerate it, especially not from my own daughter.” He pauses. “You know, after all this, it’s clear to me that you don’t deserve that little library of yours. So, I’ll give you the afternoon to collect your things, and hopefully, some time in the dungeons before the sparring match in a few days will teach you some much-needed respect. And if I hear even a whisper of you and that boy being seen together, you won’t be the only one punished.”

The idea of the dungeons sends chills down my spine, but I’m so far gone, I barely feel it.

“Yes, Father.” The response is automatic.

“And if you really want to know something about your mother, I’ll tell you this. She is the reason you can heal. But,” he says the next words slowly, lingering on every syllable, “she didn’t want you. That’s what made her a traitor. Most rulers wouldn’t have brought an illegitimate child into their home, but I allowed you to be raised among your trueborn siblings out of the sheer goodness of my heart. You will do well to remember that.”

I’m not drowning in the darkness of my mind anymore. It has taken me from the inside, spreading through my veins, from my heart to the tips of my fingers, like a parasite attaching itself to me so it can live.

I stare at the stone floor, keeping my hands behind my back as pressure builds in my throat.“Yes, Father.”

The voice coming out of my mouth doesn’t even sound like me. As though the shadows have transfigured me into a puppet, pulling my strings, controlling what I say, what I do, how I act.

Without another word, I run out of the room and down the hall.

The stone blurs around me as my vision becomes cloudy, but I can’t focus on it. All that matters now is getting to the library. Getting somewhere safe.

I turn the corner, and I’m so focused on my destination that I run right into Soren.

Shock covers his pale face. “Luna?”

I open my mouth, but no words escape. I can barely put one thought in front of the other, let alone explain what happened. Even if I wanted to, I can’t bear to look at him. The worry in his eyes, the empathy . . . it’s too much.

I shake my head, running past him and down the hall until I get to the library.

The moment I shut the doors behind me, I surrender. To the guilt, the anger, the fear, every emotion my body could possibly hold.

And I break in two.