Book 1: Youth of Delarn

Chapter 12: Domestic Living

Living with Solene's parents was unpredictable. Salvika was an unpredictable god, so it wasn't a surprise, but it was taxing. As long as she kept that in mind, she convinced herself she could handle it.

Despite that, Solene's mother was predictable in a few key ways. It was easy to tell when she was going to pretend to be loving and when she was going to make harder. It was all in the inflection of her voice, and how Delarn handled whenever she would trail her to the training grounds. Delarn had built up a tolerance for the stench and her mental map was getting better, but she doubted she could ever navigate it without a face covering.

Delarn knew she almost always was trailing her. She knew if she ever looked directly at her, the next day would be a little harder, but if she was clever or sneaky about it, she would be affectionate. It was all a matter of how she perceived the encounter. Sometimes it was easier to pretend she didn't notice her following at all, because as long as she acted unaware, she wouldn't punish her for it.

The one person she could never predict was Solene's father. She couldn't consider him her own father, no matter how much she thought about it or their living arrangement, not even as a stepfather. For one, he rarely acknowledged her on his normal days. Everything he did was like clockwork. He would wake up, eat breakfast, put his hat and coat on, compliment breakfast and then go to work. Then, in the afternoon, he would return, take off his coat and hat, kick off his shoes and doze in his chair with the paper in his hand until dinner. None of them knew where he went during the day, and none of them tried to know. Delarn was too afraid to.

When he would deviate from this cycle, he would do terrible things. He would destroy things around him and scream. He would take great pleasure in terrorizing Solene and Delarn, and when he was in those moods, they would leave the house. They would be out for the entire night, waiting for his anger to pass. He would come back from work with human limbs, and it was more disturbing that they didn't smell of anything. She would do her best not to stare at him as staring often set him off.

She had learned to rely on Solene during these moments, and they had grown closer for it. She had thought their mother should have done something about it, but it only occurred to her when she was older she didn't have control either.

She had grown arrogant about her ability to predict his patterns one day. She was proud of herself for figuring it out, sitting in his chair and working on the sewing she had learned. She was working on some clothes she had torn while playing in town. He shouldn't have been back for many more hours, and Solene was still in school.

Solene returned just in time, his eyes wide and panicked as he started pushing her things off the chair and dragging her off by the wrist.

"What are you doing?" She asked, though she figured he would worry about it when he got home. He had gotten home earlier than she thought he would as well.

"Dad is on his way," Solene answered. "He's going to be here any moment, and he's going to be pissed seeing you in his chair."

He pushed her toward the door and started dragging the rest of her sewing things to the floor, hoping it was enough. He saw she still wasn't moving and barked, "What the fuck are you doing, Delarn? Get out of here before he gets here."

"I don't think we should talk like—"

"Are you fucking stupid?" Solene retorted, hardly believing she could be this dense. He wrapped his arms around her and pushed her out of the room, toward the back door. They heard the front door slam open and then closed from the other side of the house.

The sense of danger was seeping in, and her legs were moving. She was registering what her stepbrother was saying and realized just what was coming.