Wyatt Cain was a master of control.
He controlled his face, his clothes, his fate and his emotions. The only thing he couldn't seem to control, it appeared, was his son.
"No."
"You have to, Jeb. There's still danger out there."
"Oh, because its so much worse than when that bitch was still in power? I've been dealing with danger. I've been dealing with danger since I was four years old, if you'll remember correctly."
Cain grimaced.
Jeb looked so much like his mother. He wasn't like his old dad, he was like her. A curse, Cain thought, more than a blessing. Her eyes, face shape, fair hair. Her temper and ability to hold a grudge.
Jeb wasn't much like his da at all.
He shifted restlessly behind the backdrop of trees. The resistance camp was still growing strong. Cain feared them. With his cop's eye, he could see it very clearly. Those who didn't believe in the witch would rise up, the new terrorist force in the Outer Zone. Azkadellia's blood could be splattered by his own son.
The story of the witch was a good one, and a true one, but the sad thing was, there was no proof. Anything the new monarchy did would be blamed on Az and her evil. If it got big enough, the mistrust, he saw riots. Riots led by Jeb.
He didn't like it. And there wasn't a damned thing he could do to stop it. Jeb wouldn't be taken by force, he knew it. He shuddered at the image of his haunted, angry son being dragged in, strapped to one of Glitch's machines. DG was working on killing the death penalty, but there was still punishment for killing and there was punishment for resisting the crown. And in his professional opinion, Jeb was far too used to doing both.
"Well, then, no reason for it to go on any longer. You can't keep living like this."
Jeb's eyes were closed off to the outside world and especially to his "overbearing" father.
Cain was good at reading people, he had to be, to survive as long as he did, and he could see the tension boiling beneath the surface of Jeb's skin. It was the same burning anger, that nonsensical, all consuming hurt and rage that he'd seen when he'd wanted to kill Zero. Victims of death and hurt, they hid in themselves and blamed others. He knew that look. He saw it in cornered feral cats. He didn't want to think about what that look meant.
He just wanted his son back.
"Why not? And who are you to say what I can and can't do? I belong here. Not in that palace with all the Princess's other misfit toys and band of valiant heroes like yourself. I'm staying in the forest, and that's final."
Cain blinked with defeat. It was necessary, he realized, to pick his battles. He hadn't been a father for a very long time. He was rustier than his tin badge.
He felt so very old.
Jeb blinked down at his father. He was taller, so much bigger and stronger and more of a man than Cain wanted to believe. Too much missed time to make up in his son's life. Too much had happened. He rubbed a hand over his face.
"You shouldn't call the Princess a bitch. You'll get yourself shot, and look like a fool while doing it."
Jeb twitched his mouth irritably, shrugging off it all. Cain understood it. He needed someone to blame. And invisible witch and DG's word were not enough for a man whose life had been stolen. As long as he didn't act on that blame, Cain could live with it.
"Take care, son."
He felt hollow when Jeb turned away without a word.
Too much had happened.
She stared at the hem of her skirt, the beads sparkling in the light. The light sound of the heavy fabric switching back and forth on the floor. The stones glittering as they clinked in their places. Too bright for her eyes. She was used to the dark.
"Az?"
She hastily straightened up and pretended to be brushing her hair, or what was left of it. Not much use in a brush. Self-mutilation, the psychologist said. More like self preservation. There were too many screams and curses tangled in her hair. They were weighing her hair down. They pulled at her scalp as she moved, and now her head felt a little bit cleaner, and a little more like her own. She enjoyed the feeling to her dark fringe skimming her shoulders, straight and severe, but softer than her old ropes of hair. Anything was softer than her old face.
She eyed her reflection warily. She didn't like it. there were too many things lurking in that glass. Be brave, she told herself. Look once every day, just to know that there's nothing there.
She had changed herself as much as possible, but there was still something there that couldn't be changed. Never enough, the nasty little voice in her head told her. You're still her. Look at what you've done.
"Az?"
Baby sister.
Her shorter hair felt thick and shiny as she ran her hands through it while DG stared at her. She felt the stare burning into her back. she felt all of them pricking into her skin. she was so aware. Even under the mounds of covers, she felt naked.
DG tugged on the hem of her shockingly pink sheath dress. It almost made Azkadellia smile. It suited her. She stared back at her own off-white shirt and long skirt in the mirror. Loose and cloaking.
"Are you going to talk to me, or just stand there?"
DG started guiltily, shaking her head, reprimanding herself for not paying more attention, Azkadellia could tell.
She felt like the younger sister, being coddled like this, which she understood. She was the fragile one now. They were always surprised when she talked to them, as if they expected her to curl up in her hole and shatter if anyone approached.
For all DG's good intentions, they knew nothing about each other.
She wasn't one to just give in.
"Oh. Dad wants to see you."
She stared at her lap, mouth twitching at the summons. Of course.
"Well, it is twelve."
DG smiled hesitantly, confused.
He always fetched her at twelve, put on a smile and show for the court. He was trying. Better than her. She smiled at how he flinched (miniscully, but she noticed) when she looked him in the eye. He was really working at it. but she still had the same face.
Stupid face.
She got up and walked carefully past, her movements clumsy in the extreme. She had never been the most graceful, and her abrupt re-instating of her free will was not helping. She cursed slightly as she tripped in the door, ignoring DG's fussing.
"Afternoon, Princess."
She raised an eyebrow at Wyatt Cain, her sister's shadow. He was suspiciously cordial to her. It scared her. She killed his family. There wasn't a chance he could see her as a human. Someday, she thought. He would crack someday. People, they all tried, yet nothing would change the fact that it was her. eyes don't lie, and try as the mind might, it can't trick itself into a false belief.
"Hello."
She couldn't look him in the eye.
They walked somberly down the hall to the main room. It scratched her irritation with herself even more. They couldn't just be happy without her, could they? Because they certainly weren't happy with her. She heard the laughter when she wasn't there. Drop in one of her, kill the the joy in the entire room.
Caged.
Again.
"Azkadellia dear!"
She hugged her mother hesitantly. The woman she'd tortured.
Her mother's lilac gown whispered against her skin. It felt like the painfully comforting rasp of a cat's tongue.
Her mother pulled back and went to stand next to their father, beaming at their girls. She was the force of happy in their little house, her and DG.
"How are you?"
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"The same."
They stared at her with concern, the smile wilting at the edges on her mother's face.
She blinked at them.
"I'm me."
her mother forced the smile back on, swallowing the stiff silence.
"We have news for you, Az. We think you'll like it."
The daughters waited patiently in the inevitable pause until Ahamo stepped forward. Az counted for the flinch, eyes boring into him for approximately four seconds before he ticked and looked away.
Two point five seconds longer than last time.
"We found a space for you. In the mountains. Your own place to recover until you're back to normal."
She stared at them blankly. They were so blind to her efforts. How could they know who she was when she didn't even have a clue? How did they know that this wasn't normal for her? Who could say that this wasn't as recovered as she was going to get? Why did she need to change, anyhow?
But instead what came out was-
"Okay."
DG stared at her in horror. Az sensed a tantrum
"You can't do this! You can't just separate us! She doesn't need to go anywhere! You can't just evict her!"
Their parents flushed, and she realized that they were hoping for this resistance, from one of them so that they could be normal. Loud voices hide a lot.
"She needs somewhere to go! She's obviously not okay, DG! I know you love her, we all do, but she can't go on like this! She's not herself!"
The air became heavy with silence again, the unspoken words flashing in front of their eyes.
How do you know?
It had been to long. There was too much time passed.
Tenderly, she laid her head on DG's shoulder and listened to her sister cry.
She had always liked fresh air.