“You try to use a weapon on your son, and you’ll be dealing with me,” Jared says.
Quicker than water, Dad leaps forward, across Willow, his knives in his hands as he dives for Jared’s knees.
I slam into him and send him sprawling in front of Elder Toilspun.
“Help Willow,” I say to Jared as Dad flips to his feet and turns on me with a snarl.
“Think you’re better than me? Think you could choose a stranger over your own family, and I’d stand for it?” He spins the knives into his favorite throwing position.
I drop and roll toward him as the first knife leaves his hand. It flies over me and embeds itself in the railing that lines the walkway. Before he can throw the next one, I come up swinging.
The rage bursts free of the dam within me. I can’t hear anything but the pounding of my heart and the memory of the constant litany of abuse that has spewed from my father’s lips since I was born. I can’t feel anything but the blazing heat of my anger coursing through me and the way his body gives beneath my fists. I can’t see anything but the blood he’s put on my hands and the flash of fear on his face as he realizes I’m stronger than him.
We smash into the council door and land heavily on the floor inside. In seconds, we’re both on our feet, throwing punches and pivoting to match each other’s moves. I take his blows and barely feel the pain. We have the same training, the same instincts, but I’m faster.
I’m always faster.
This time, I don’t hold back. I drive my fist into his stomach and think of every time he laid a whip to Willow’s back. I slam my elbow into his temple and remember the way the light in my mother’s eyes grew fainter and fainter until all that was left was a haze of corn liquor. I kick his knee hard enough to shatter bone and remember my screams the first time he broke my arm. Before I’d learned that screams only made the punishment worse.
“No more,” I pant as his shattered knee gives out, and he falls heavily to the floor. “You’re done giving orders. You’re done abusing us. And you’re done killing people.”
He spits out a mouthful of blood and teeth and glares at me. “I’m done when I say I’m done.”
I lean down, my face inches from his, and say with absolute certainty, “You. Are. Done.”
His right shoulder tightens, a nearly imperceptible movement, and his eyes flick toward my chest. He whips his remaining knife toward my heart.
I block his arm with my right palm, moving the tip of the blade to the side.
He lunges forward.
Grabbing his wrist with my left hand, I wrench the weapon around, and shove it toward him.
The blade slides into his chest.
We stare at our hands, both holding the hilt, while blood pours across his tunic. My pulse pounds against my skull, and my breathing tears through me like sobs. I feel sick. Vindicated. Horrified.
His eyes find mine, full of fear and confusion, and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but I let go of the knife and back away. I don’t want to hear his last words. I don’t want to watch him die.
As his death gurgle rattles in his throat, I turn and stumble out of the council building.
Chapter Ten
“He’s dead,” Elder Toilspun says. “You killed him.”
I walk past the elder without a word and sink down beside Willow. There’s blood on my hands, but I no longer know if it’s hers or my father’s.
I killed my father.
Something warm wraps around my shoulders, and I look up in surprise to see Jared’s cloak resting on me while he shivers in the winter air.
I’m shivering, too. My teeth are chattering, and the rage that drove me now feels like a sea of ice chilling me from the inside out.
I killed my father.
Dimly, I realize that Willow’s injury is packed with turmeric to clean the wound and that Jared is carefully wrapping a bandage around her stomach. Her eyes are open, and she’s staring at me.
I killed my father.
Killed him.
“So much violence,” Elder Saintcrow mutters. “It isn’t natural.”
“You didn’t have a problem with it as long as we kept it outside the village border,” Willow says weakly. “You turned a blind eye. Kind of hypocritical to complain now.”
“I killed my father.” I try the words on for size, shocked to hear my voice shaking.
“He was trying to kill you, son.” Jared’s voice is kind.
“You stopped him,” Willow says. Her eyes are fierce. “Nothing else would’ve worked, Quinn. You stopped him.”
Do the echoes of his violence—echoes of my own violence—die with him? If I turn away from everything he taught me to be and choose a different path, can this moment be the ashes on which I build a new life?
“Quinn—”
Willow’s hand is cold against mine. I try to wrap my fingers around hers, but all I can think of is the blood on my skin. The blood on my soul.
“We will meet to decide what must be done in the wake of these events,” Elder Saintcrow says to us before ushering the rest of the elders into the council house, where we can no longer hear what they’re saying.
“I told Dad he was done,” I say as I meet Willow’s gaze. “I’m done too.”
Her grip becomes almost painful. “What do you mean you’re done?”
“No more weapons. No more fighting. I’m not going to be a monster like him.”
“You’re not a monster,” she says.
Quicker than water, Dad leaps forward, across Willow, his knives in his hands as he dives for Jared’s knees.
I slam into him and send him sprawling in front of Elder Toilspun.
“Help Willow,” I say to Jared as Dad flips to his feet and turns on me with a snarl.
“Think you’re better than me? Think you could choose a stranger over your own family, and I’d stand for it?” He spins the knives into his favorite throwing position.
I drop and roll toward him as the first knife leaves his hand. It flies over me and embeds itself in the railing that lines the walkway. Before he can throw the next one, I come up swinging.
The rage bursts free of the dam within me. I can’t hear anything but the pounding of my heart and the memory of the constant litany of abuse that has spewed from my father’s lips since I was born. I can’t feel anything but the blazing heat of my anger coursing through me and the way his body gives beneath my fists. I can’t see anything but the blood he’s put on my hands and the flash of fear on his face as he realizes I’m stronger than him.
We smash into the council door and land heavily on the floor inside. In seconds, we’re both on our feet, throwing punches and pivoting to match each other’s moves. I take his blows and barely feel the pain. We have the same training, the same instincts, but I’m faster.
I’m always faster.
This time, I don’t hold back. I drive my fist into his stomach and think of every time he laid a whip to Willow’s back. I slam my elbow into his temple and remember the way the light in my mother’s eyes grew fainter and fainter until all that was left was a haze of corn liquor. I kick his knee hard enough to shatter bone and remember my screams the first time he broke my arm. Before I’d learned that screams only made the punishment worse.
“No more,” I pant as his shattered knee gives out, and he falls heavily to the floor. “You’re done giving orders. You’re done abusing us. And you’re done killing people.”
He spits out a mouthful of blood and teeth and glares at me. “I’m done when I say I’m done.”
I lean down, my face inches from his, and say with absolute certainty, “You. Are. Done.”
His right shoulder tightens, a nearly imperceptible movement, and his eyes flick toward my chest. He whips his remaining knife toward my heart.
I block his arm with my right palm, moving the tip of the blade to the side.
He lunges forward.
Grabbing his wrist with my left hand, I wrench the weapon around, and shove it toward him.
The blade slides into his chest.
We stare at our hands, both holding the hilt, while blood pours across his tunic. My pulse pounds against my skull, and my breathing tears through me like sobs. I feel sick. Vindicated. Horrified.
His eyes find mine, full of fear and confusion, and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but I let go of the knife and back away. I don’t want to hear his last words. I don’t want to watch him die.
As his death gurgle rattles in his throat, I turn and stumble out of the council building.
Chapter Ten
“He’s dead,” Elder Toilspun says. “You killed him.”
I walk past the elder without a word and sink down beside Willow. There’s blood on my hands, but I no longer know if it’s hers or my father’s.
I killed my father.
Something warm wraps around my shoulders, and I look up in surprise to see Jared’s cloak resting on me while he shivers in the winter air.
I’m shivering, too. My teeth are chattering, and the rage that drove me now feels like a sea of ice chilling me from the inside out.
I killed my father.
Dimly, I realize that Willow’s injury is packed with turmeric to clean the wound and that Jared is carefully wrapping a bandage around her stomach. Her eyes are open, and she’s staring at me.
I killed my father.
Killed him.
“So much violence,” Elder Saintcrow mutters. “It isn’t natural.”
“You didn’t have a problem with it as long as we kept it outside the village border,” Willow says weakly. “You turned a blind eye. Kind of hypocritical to complain now.”
“I killed my father.” I try the words on for size, shocked to hear my voice shaking.
“He was trying to kill you, son.” Jared’s voice is kind.
“You stopped him,” Willow says. Her eyes are fierce. “Nothing else would’ve worked, Quinn. You stopped him.”
Do the echoes of his violence—echoes of my own violence—die with him? If I turn away from everything he taught me to be and choose a different path, can this moment be the ashes on which I build a new life?
“Quinn—”
Willow’s hand is cold against mine. I try to wrap my fingers around hers, but all I can think of is the blood on my skin. The blood on my soul.
“We will meet to decide what must be done in the wake of these events,” Elder Saintcrow says to us before ushering the rest of the elders into the council house, where we can no longer hear what they’re saying.
“I told Dad he was done,” I say as I meet Willow’s gaze. “I’m done too.”
Her grip becomes almost painful. “What do you mean you’re done?”
“No more weapons. No more fighting. I’m not going to be a monster like him.”
“You’re not a monster,” she says.
