Court of Snakes: This Desert Cage

Falling - The Palace | June of the First Year

"Daddy, all I'm asking for is ten minutes of your time. You haven't had a long conversation with me in weeks, and I wanted to show you this assignment I've finished that I thought you would like."

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Lord Talbot barked as he gazed at a map of the city, the sprawling expanse of Segeno laid out on a single piece of parchment. The War Room held its spot as one of Parisa's least favorite places in the palace, due to its cold nature and the grim sensation she felt in the pit of her stomach whenever her presence was required. It was adjacent to the throne room, a small space where the Sovereign and his Councilmembers would meet to discuss matters of conflict. Her father had been holed up in the War Room for days, strategizing ways to exterminate the last Sovereign's only remaining heir and the rebellion that brewed throughout the city. This reclusive behavior, Parisa observed, cultivated insanity, and she had hoped that she may be able to bring him back from the brink.

"But you're always busy!" Parisa retorted. She had been impatient for a very long time, and she could no longer stand it.

"I don't understand, my dear," Lord Talbot said as he stood from the table and took an aggressive step toward his daughter, "why it is so difficult for you to catch me at a time when I am not trying to protect us from rebels who want to kill us?"

"And I don't understand what you want from me, Father. You tell me I need to show improvement and progress, but you don't want to discuss my work. You say you're interested in how I'm coming along, and when I come to visit you, you couldn't be more disinterested. What do you want from me?"

Lord Talbot opened his mouth to speak but held his tongue. After a few moments, he replied, "The Sovereigns before have been almost entirely removed from their children. The children are educated by tutors, are raised by servants, and then perform their royal duties without question. I am involved in other matters and do not have time to socialize."

"Oh, so you want me to go away? Is that it? You want nothing more than for me to be a pet bird? Did you stop caring about me before or after mother died?"

"Your Majesty," Master Esmond, who stood adjacent to the table in silence, interjected.

"No, Parisa, I want you to do what you're told. This has nothing to do with your mother, so leave her out of it."

"If you don't want to see me," Parisa snapped, "then tell me. Don't lead me on like this."

Master Esmond stepped forward timidly and coughed to clear his throat, mumbling, "Sir, perhaps it would be best if you listened to—"

Lord Talbot inhaled like a bull and moved over to Esmond, huffing, "Are you suggesting, Master Esmond, that you know how to deal with my daughter better than I do?"

"No, sir. I—"

Lord Talbot grabbed Master Esmond's wrist hard and twisted his arm around with such force that Master Esmond yelped out in pain. Lord Talbot leaned in close to Master Esmond's face and hissed, "Never tell me what to do."

Parisa swallowed thickly and gripped what schoolwork she had in her hands as if it were a rope hanging over a ravine. Esmond's knuckles turned white as Lord Talbot held him there, like a python she had read about in one of her books.

Lord Talbot released Esmond and moved to Parisa, who instinctually stepped back against the wall. Her father flew into rages like this often, and when he did, she knew he was not to be meddled with.

"You are to go to your lessons. You are to entertain yourself," he spat. "You are to play by yourself. If you ask me again to play with you, you'll be locked in your room with nothing to do. Do you understand?"

Parisa's lip trembled. Her father's rage hardly ever resulted in violence, but it seemed that today had been the exception, and Master Esmond cradled his twisted wrist as he observed the scene, ready to jump to Parisa's aid. Parisa's nerves caused her chest to shake as she breathed, and she strode, with dignity, over to the table again and slammed her schoolwork in front of where her father had been sitting. Master Esmond took Parisa's hand and escorted her back to her room while her father seethed with hatred, rooted to where he stood.

The walk down the hallway acted as torture itself, with their footsteps echoing through the stone hallway as they moved toward her bedroom, which was on the bottom floor of the palace. Lord Talbot did not permit Parisa to live with him in the Sovereign's suite, despite their immediate relations. She instead had been given a small room in the back of nowhere, where he would never have to see her, hear her, or be near her. She understood why now and felt sad, not because of the way he treated her, but because she had not known sooner. Red marks gleamed on Esmond's wrist where he had been grabbed like wine on dyed wool.

"You fell, didn't you?" Parisa inquired, afraid that she already knew the answer. How could her father have been so violent and, furthermore, was he the cause of Esmond's other injuries?

Esmond said nothing and simply nodded, closing her bedroom door behind her.