Black Rose (Rose Kisses #1)

Prolouge

Rewritten: 10/27/2018 at 9:47pm

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The heat from the fire seeping through the cotton nightgown that she wore, warming her body until she felt snuggled in warmth. Every night, Isaline's mother would brush her hair by the fire, combing her fingers gently through the waist length curls of her daughter's hair. She run gold flakes, gifted from the queen, through every strand of Isaline's hair until it glittered like star dust in the dim lighting. Then she'd plait her hair into a single braid that hung low down her back; the tips brushing against the floor beneath her. When she was done with her hair, she would begin tracing patterns onto Isaline's back. She drew swirls and spirals with the tips of her nails, making Isaline's eyes droop as she struggled to stay awake.

Just as she began to succumb to her drowsiness, the front door swung open and her father staggered inside. Even from where she sat, she could smell the liquor on his breath and the rage in his veins. The drinking had only begun recently but within that short period of time, Isaline's father had managed to morph into the monster of her worst nightmares.

"D-Daddy," she stammered as her father stalked into the living room. He'd already found his target before the game had begun and now they were forced to wait. Night after night, it had become a game for them. Who was daddy going to break first, mother or daughter?

The question was answered shortly when Isaline's neck nearly snapped off her shoulders as the back of her father's hand connected with her cheek. The blow had been so strong that it loosened her braid, sending tendrils of hair cascading over her face.

"What'd I tell you about putting gold in your hair?" her father slurred. Isaline clenched her jaw, wincing as pain radiated through her face. The tears had yet to fall but she knew they were bound to come soon. Early training had proved useful against the physical pain that her father caused her, but little could be done about the emotional and mental pain he inflicted.

"Gold is for little girls and I am not a little girl anymore," she recited quietly. The words had been tattooed into her brain and she would never forget them for as long as she lived. That was the power that her father held over her and for that, she despised him.

"And what are you?" he sneered.

She looked at him and he knocked her head back to the side. Her father couldn't stand looking Isaline in the eyes; eyes so identical to him. He couldn't stand seeing the monster that he had become over the years. Couldn't stand seeing the fear that he had instilled so deeply inside of her.

"What are you?" he repeated firmly, distracting himself from the sudden wave of emotion that overcame him.

"I'm a Winter," Isaline grimaced. "Winter's are warriors, not little girls."

She'd grown to hate the sound of her name in the past couple of years. She'd grown to hate her reflection too, hoping that one day when she awoke, she'd be the little boy that her father's dreams.

Isaline's father hadn't always been so violent towards her and her mother. Once upon a time, he'd a dutiful and loving husband. He worked the morning at the castle and at night, he'd come home to his waiting child. She would greet him at the door with story upon story of her day's adventure and they'd sit by the fire until both father and daughter had dozed off to dying embers and full bellies.

She remembered the first day his feelings towards her changed. It was during a sparring session of hers. Up until that time, Isaline had dominated their small community as undefeated. She took after her mother in the ring, fighting with a deadly grace that sometimes scared even her father. In the ring, everyone answered to Isaline.