Heir of Darkness

Chapter One - The Arrival

The lofty carriage was jolted as it rode along the uneven cobblestones, doing nothing to quell the uneasiness that had long settled in the pit of Tessa's roiling stomach. Churning grey clouds above held the promise of rain and the occasional barren tree stretched towards the sky in a tangle of gnarled branches. Faint and lolling hills swept across the unforgiving terrain, the occasional patch of yellow and bristling grass making the land look all the more harsh for it. It could have been a graveyard for all the life it held, and Tessa fought against the chill that settled into her very core. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was riding to her execution.

They had been riding in the small, unimpressive carriage for nearly three days, hardly stopping to rest, and Tessa's body was stiff from the long hours on the unforgiving carriage seats. Her hands itched to massage the aching muscles of her neck, though she was careful to keep them neatly folded in her lap in order to avoid the scrutiny of the man sitting across from her.

Ladies do not fidget, he'd instructed.

Indeed, she sat perfectly still in the jostling carriage, the picture of feminine grace despite the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc inside of her. Hairpins pulled her hair tightly back into a braided coronet and stuck sharply into her scalp, though that wasn't nearly as insufferable as the corset cinching her waist.

She felt her uncle's eagle-sharp attention focus on her and turned to meet his gaze, fighting the assuredly unfeminine urge to cross the distance between them and wrap her fingers around his neck. 

"Yes, Uncle?" She said sweetly, her voice dripping with venom and a wicked smile plastered on her face.

The muscles around his jaw tightened nearly imperceptively, and his cold, unfeeling eyes could have been taken right from the barren landscape surrounding them. He was the picture of cold indifference, but Tessa could see the violence and anger that churned like molten lava beneath his icy facade. They had both been playing a real-life chess match for years, dancing between covert antagonism and outright hostility, and her uncle had finally caught her in a checkmate.

"Really, Theresa, you mustn't be so morose. I would have thought you would have been happy about this arrangement. It is a more advantageous match than a girl like you could have ever hoped for."

A girl like me.

She barked out a laugh, femine grace be damned. "You're selling me off like some unwanted dog, and yet I mustn't be morose? I apologize for the inconvenience my emotions must bring you."

Her uncle sighed heavily and massaged his temples, leaning back into the upholstered seats. "You have been nothing but a leach on this family's resources, Theresa, be thankful I didn't marry you off sooner."

"Sell me off, you mean", Tessa cut in sharply.

Her uncle's eyes flashed. "A racehorse doesn't have any value until it is sold," he hissed. "You should consider yourself lucky any man would even consider taking you as a wife, let alone one with a status as high as the Lord Commander's."

Even after all this time living under his roof and being subject to his animosities, his words still stung. How she longed for his love and affection after her parents were killed, how lonely that little girl had been when he brought her to his estate, only to be ignored and abused and forced to embrace a power she both despised and feared.

That was the only time he ever bore any affection for her, it seemed. When phantom pain danced from her fingertips and caused the servants her uncle brought to her to writhe in agony beneath her touch. "Excellent work, my girl," he would say, and the truly awful part of Tessa began to look forward to days when he would bring more to her, just so she could get that ounce of affection she so desperately craved.

She couldn't look in mirrors anymore, couldn't be reminded of the monster lurking just beneath the surface of her skin.

Tessa just looked at her uncle, letting a little bit of that monster show through. She smiled suddenly, and even her uncle had the grace to look uncomfortable under her gaze despite the thick gloves he made her wear around him.

"Been gambling again, uncle?" She asked smoothly. "I'm sure aunt Myrella won't realize, what with the Lord Commander's coins now filling your pockets-"

She knew the slap was coming even before she saw her uncle move. A sharp stinging spread across her cheek and sent her head flying into the unforgiving wall of the carriage. The impact reverberated throughout her body, and she couldn't hide the tears that welled in her eyes at the sharp pain throbbing on her temple. Warm blood trickled down from where her forehead had struck the door as she slowly steeled her spine and angled her head to look at him again. Making no move to wipe the blood away, Tessa found a sort of perverse pleasure in the anger that flashed through his eyes as his gaze darted to her forehead.

He had wanted her in perfect condition today, he'd told her. The warmth spreading across her smarting cheek and throbbing head was a result of his lost control.

She couldn't hide the smirk that played at the edges of her mouth as she raised a hand to gently dab at the blood on her lip.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Her uncle tightened his fists, veins bulging on his forehead as he fought not to lose control again. He took a single shuddering breath, and took time rearranging the lapels of his coat before addressing her again.

Not even a tremor in his voice remained as he said, "you've been nothing but a thorn in my side since the day your parents were killed."

The words landed like a blow, and she flinched. She wanted nothing more than to rip her gloves off and make him feel every bit of pain he'd made her feel over the years.

Of course, she couldn't take the gloves off even if she tried. Like a muzzle for a rabid dog, her uncle had designed them especially for her, so she could only take them off when he deemed appropriate.

He smiled at her as if he knew the thoughts running through her head.

She clenched her jaw and turned her head back to the window, watching the melancholy sky hang heavy over the barren landscape beneath it. Cold air seeped in through the thick glass and icy rain began to thrum on the metal around them. Under normal circumstances, she drew comfort from the melodic and rhythmic staccato of the rain, but now she couldn't help but feel as if each drop against the metal roof was a hammer sealing the door to her coffin.

The landscape was utterly devoid of color, a grey barren wasteland that was to be her home. She had been told precious little of her soon-to-be husband, but she had overheard the hushed whispers of servants hidden in dim hallways and knew him to be a cruel man and even more ruthless general. Fear held her heart in a cold fist, but she refused to let her uncle see just how much he had won. Though she knew she should be glad to be rid of one of her biggest tormentors, she had a feeling that the man her uncle was handing her leash to was going to be far worse.

There was only one reason he would want her to be his wife, only one way she could be of service to him in ways other women could not. A power like hers was unheard of. She was a blade honed to perfection, her only purpose inflicting pain and leaving behind no evidence save for the unseen scars left upon the mind.

No, her betrothed did not want her out of love or chivalry.

She was a torturer. A breaker of minds. A weapon in the war soon to be waging across their lands.