CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 112

This time my parents were accompanied by no one. Not a single Wychthorn bodyguard or soldier stood in the room to protect them from the Crowthers and the cadre completely loyal to Valarie. Any single one of the Crowthers, Ferne included, could cut my parents down in a blink, and leave the room splashed in crimson. But I didn't think they'd go so far as death. A vicious wound perhaps, since they needed my parents alive to get their hands on Brangwene's Hjarte—the war hammer ensconced within my family's treasure trove.

My mother and father's gazes were locked on mine and utter torturous relief shone from my father as I came to a stop beside Valarie. My heart almost burst from my chest with happiness. The sharp-edged pang of hopelessness was drowned beneath a sea of warmth and tenderness for them both. I jittered on the spot in my outlandish high-heels, my hands fidgeting with the tulle skirt. I wanted to run across the room and throw myself into their arms. I wanted my mother, and all those lovely mornings we spent with each other in her grand aviary with the sparrows and thrushes and finches, sipping bergamot tea while the sun warmed the day.

I wanted my father most of all.

He'd always been my champion and my companion.

My mother had her bony fingers wrapped around my father's arm, holding him tight, not for reassurance I realized, but to stop him from running for me.

I could see in the line of his posture, the tautness to his stiff limbs, the fight in his eyes, his desperate need to cross the room for me.

And I felt the same.

I wanted to fling myself into his arms for a reassuring hug.

My father's blue eyes were silver-lined and he quickly and unobtrusively brushed the moisture away with a hand. He scanned my face and the rope around my throat. Questions arose in his gaze. The loudest—are you alright?

I tipped up my quivering chin and gave him a watery smile, brightness filling my veins like sunshine. I was alright. I lived, and I'd ensure they would too.

I wouldn't bow.

I wouldn't allow the Crowthers to possess Brangwene's Hjarte and manipulate my parents further.

This plan of Valarie's was going to fail.

Golden light caught the sharp cut of Valarie's cheekbones as she shifted her stance, pushing her shoulders back and angling her head slightly. An imperious brow arched as she met my father's steely gaze with her own, her pink lips parting. However just before she spoke, Ferne addressed her aunt in a low raspy voice. "I'll be the one who speaks with the Wychthorns, Aunt Valarie." Valarie was startled but hid it well. Ferne continued. "Graysen's not here to tell the Wychthorns what happened that night, but I am."

"Ferne, I'm not sure—"

"It's my right to do this." Iron strength ran through Ferne's tone. "And I'll do it alone."