Page 41 of His Eternal Claim

Not in a mood to entertain her, I sidestep before her trembling hand comes to grab the hem of my jacket.

“Your Father is busy.” I scoff. Turning so abruptly, I am afraid I scared her. Her eyes widen, fear flashing in them, the same fear I’ve seen when she looks at Father.

Her fear should’ve satisfied something in me. It didn’t.

It spreads so deep that by the time you notice, you’re already dead.

I look at her. And for one fractured second… I see the woman who used to kiss my scraped knees.

Who used to read me stories about kings and saints. Who used to tell me monsters only existed in books. Funny.

Turns out she married one. And gave birth to another.

A bitter laugh crawled up my throat.

“Busy?”

My voice comes out low as I take a step toward her. Then another.

Rainwater drips from my hair onto the marble between us, tiny dark stains spreading across pristine white like blood blooming beneath skin.

“The woman I love is being sold like livestock.” Another step.

“My future is being bartered on his fucking whims and likes.”

Another.

“He’s making me marry some whore to secure the spot with the powerful.” I stop inches from her. “And you’re telling me…” I lean down. Close enough to watch her breath hitch. “…he’s busy?”

Her lips part. Nothing comes out. No excuse.

No denial. No lies.

Just silence.

And that hurt more.

Her trembling fingers curl into her dress.

“Zagreus… please,” she whispers, tears gathering but never falling. “You don’t understand how this family works.”

I stare at her. Then smile. “No, Mother.”

I tilt my head.

“I understand perfectly.”

My jaw tightens so hard that it hurts.

“I understand that when a man burns innocent people alive, someone hands him gasoline.”

Her face loses all colour.

The last piece of my childhood died. I nod slowly.

“Thought so.”

“Zagreus—”