Daybreak

Chapter 10 : Burn

Breathe, breathe. Inhale... exhale.

Inhale... exhale.

The rhythmic dance of breath had become an elusive skill for Valerie, her chest heaving like a captive prisoner yearning for release. The hearth crackled with a blazing fire, each pop sending shivers through her nerves. With her pulse galloping, her mouth opened and closed like a fish on land, trying to take in whatever lay before her.

Breathe, breathe.

"Do not speak," growled David Greenwood, pure destruction radiating off each word. "Come here," he commanded sharply.

Her muscles refused to obey her, frozen solid around her bones. "I said, come here," the General repeated. Blinking at him, Valerie's thoughts raced like a runaway carriage, her mind a cyclone of anger, frustration, and gut-wrenching fear. Powerless, powerless was what she was when faced with the High-General of Nevalla, nothing more than the child he'd taken.

If she could have done one last thing ever, it would have been to kill him, but she couldn't. Every time the thought entered her mind, her head throbbed and her breath would not come. There was something about this man that numbed all the training, all the honing that had been put into her like a forged blade, and he, the blow that shattered her.

He shot up from her bed, the action startling her out of her haze. Valerie's body jerked away and her legs moved her backward. The General made his attack fast. He descended before she could move, and before Valerie's mind could grasp the situation, her back was slammed against the armoire door, and the Lord's mammoth hand gripped her jaw with skull-splintering force.

"Who are you?" he demanded, not a question in the least, but a taunt. Pushing her chin hard against his grip in a pitiful act of defiance, she began, "I am Valerie Duna–" A thunderous clap sounded through the room as his hand connected with her cheek, the force threatening to shatter her teeth.

"I asked, who are you!" shouted Greenwood, shoving her harder against the wooden cupboard, both hands wrapped tightly in the fallen hood of her cloak, leaving nothing more than the half-mask to hide her face. This was the man who had hurt her, as an adult, as a child. Gone was his perfectly crafted mask of strategy and composure, gone was all that would ever make him seem noble; all that stood before her now was the cruel monster.

Raising her arm slowly, posing no threat, moving with utter smallness, Valerie's hand grasped the mask covering the upper half of her face. Sliding it off, Valerie flung it to the floor.

Lifting her head, her eyes connected with his once more, like a jagged blade ready to cut.

"I am Valerie Dunamis," she said in her mother tongue, the one she could never forget, even if the name of it had been wiped from her mind. He did not have to understand her, only had to recognize the name, know it, for it would be his end. He went rigid, and like a hot summer breeze, his breath touched her face.

"You are nothing."

'Be free, my angel; run and fight and fly... but do not do it for nothing,' her father; her real father had told her that, the morning before he left for sea with her brothers.

Valerie's mouth cracked slowly into a grin, the metallic taste of blood on her tongue and her lips.

What was she fighting for? Nothing really. Greta had chosen a path without her, and any hope Valerie had of finding her home had been obliterated. Her father and brothers hadn't come for her, and at this point, most likely never would. The room seemed to darken as a soft chuckle escaped on her breath and dark hopelessness started to bubble in her throat.

Valerie let out a breath right before his fist connected with her jaw, sending her stumbling to the left. There was no pain though, just the odd suffocating numbness that filled her by the heartbeat. Her mind only completely caught that she was on the ground when Greenwood came into view overhead.