In Fury Lies Mischief

I would not cry. I would not cry. I would never cry.

Forcing the tears back down, I squeezed Mama’s hand. “I will be back. I promise.” I scribbled a note and left it on her bedside table so that if she woke and I wasn’t there, she wouldn’t panic. Papa was at work until late tonight, so I knew that she would freak out.

“Hurry up. This is fucking important!” Killian yelled from the door, shocking me out of my slumber.

I shook off the emotion from seeing my mom the way she was and followed him down the stairs and out of the house.

“You fucking owe me since you live on my property.”

I looked back at the pool house that we lived in on his parents’ property. I knew this. I knew all of this. My papa worked for Mr. Cornelii and my mama used to be their cook before she got sick. She would also make sure that the grounds were kept up to standard and the cleaning too. That hasn’t been the case for some time.

A black limo pulls to a stop, rounding the fountain. Why would a ten-year-old be wanting me to get into a limo?

“Get in,” Killian grumbled, shoving me into the car. We weren’t the only ones in the back. King and Keaton were there too.

“Why am I here?” I asked, confused.

“Because it’s King’s birthday party and we all have to be there.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to come. I thought you said your mom wanted me?”

Killian smirked at me, for the first time ever. Not a scowl or a snarl, a smirk. It was alarming how uncomfortable that made me feel. “I don’t give a shit what you want.”

That night, my mother died. I wasn’t there to watch her take her final breath. I wasn’t there to kiss her warm cheeks one last time.

I wasn’t there.

Because of Killian.

Because he’s a stupid trickster who likes playing games.

Because of the stupid Brothers of Kiznitch.

When I was eight-years-old…

My father packed up a suitcase, shoved us into a beat-up Honda, and drove us away from the property I once called home. My home housed my enemy, but at least I always knew where he was. I was raised in this house, conditioned to endure the cruelty of Killian Cornelii. I didn’t know any other way.

“Papa!” I yelled when his frantic eyes wouldn’t hold still for longer than a few seconds. “What’s happening?”

I would never cry.

Not ever.

Not when my mom passed.

Not when my father looked as though the Devil was chasing us.

Never.

He swerved onto the freeway, sweat dripping from his temples.

“Papa, you’re scaring me…”

My father looked over at me, finally, with tired eyes. “They found out, Zaika,” Papa said. I never liked my name. I thought it was weird.

“Found what out?”

He shook his head, going back to the road. “You’re strong, Zaika. I have so much I need to tell you. So much.” He reached into his pocket, narrowly missing a bus. He hit dial on the phone. “Hope?” He cleared his throat. “It’s time. I know she’s not! She’s too young, but I don’t have a choice.” Silence, with a woman yelling in the background. “Hope, we will be at the meet in a few hours.” He hung up the phone and squeezed my leg. “Everything is going to be fine, because you’re strong. Just like your mother. Nothing like me.” He exhaled. “Your mother and I have not been honest with you, Zaika. We—” He struggled to say before turning to face me. “Your mom and I have been working for other people as well as the Corneliis.”

“What? How? You work so long as it is.”

He nodded, taking an exit. “I know, but the other people we work for—” He paused, turning around to face me as much as he could without losing track of the road. “They’re my family. Kiznitch is your mother’s family.”

My eyebrows drew in, my blinking rapid. My muscles tightened at the information he was about to lay out for me. “Your mom is a real-life princess, Zaika, well at least she is with Kiznitch. She’s a Dragavei. She has dragon blood in her. When your mom was ten years old, she ran away from Kiznitch after her parents disowned her and she found herself with my people. We took her in and raised her, that’s how she and I met.”

I gulped. My throat was tight and the air felt hot.

“When we were both fifteen, we returned to Kiznitch, but when your grandparents met with your mom again, they didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. More your grandmother, and she hated me more than she hated your mother. We were on the street when Mr. Cornelii took us in. He was not like the other Fathers. Nothing at all like them. He was kind and allowed us into his home, which was more than what we could have ever hoped for, your mother and I, because we were back in Kiznitch for a reason, and that reason was a group called Patience.”

I sat stu

“Patience is the archenemy of Kiznitch, Zaika. They are very, very bad people. When your mother and I figured out that we actually liked the Corneliis, we cut off contact with Patience. We tried to dodge them and we knew that as long as we were with the Corneliis, they wouldn’t come near. Until, the Corneliis found out who I was.”

“They know?” I asked, just as he pulled into an abandoned playground.

Papa pulled up the emergency brake, looking around frantically. There was no one here. I was surprised to see that we had been driving for a couple of hours, too. “They know, Zaika. Oh they know everything.”

“But Mr. Cornelii isn’t a bad man. Maybe he will talk to you?”

Papa searched my eyes. I could see that he wanted to rage at my naivety, but he suddenly sagged back, rubbing his hands over his face. “No, baby. He may be a touch better than the rest of them, but they are The Four Fathers, Saskia. They rule with an iron fist and have no problem eradicating people, especially Patience.”

His eyes flew over my shoulder as a dark SUV pulled up beside us. I panicked, but he hushed me. “It’s alright. That’s Hope, your godmother.”

“I have a godmother?” I asked, confused.

“Well, she’s actually my sister. I guess I can say that now.” He reached for the door handle, but I remained in the car. Motionless. Shocked. Nighttime was bleeding into the day and all I wanted was to stop time. Maybe rewind it to before I was born.

My door opened and a small, petite woman with short blonde hair bent down to grasp my leg. She looked nothing like Papa. Papa was ta

“Hello, Zaika, I’m Hope.”

Papa dropped a bag beside Hope’s feet. “Stop calling her that now.” He tossed a passport onto my lap. I flipped it open. “It was the name that your mother and I always wanted to call you.”

Saskia Estel Royal.

I looked up at Papa just as Hope was putting our bags in the SUV. “Are we going to be alright, Papa?”

He leaned down as Hope got into the driver’s seat and started the car, leaving her door open.

His hand came to my cheek, his lips to my forehead. “Always.” I relaxed, my muscles slacked. I would always have Papa.

I heard it before I felt it.

Pop!

Hope screamed.

Warm liquid fell down my forehead as particles sprayed across my arms.

My father’s body slowly dropped to the ground in a thump.

I don’t scream. I sit stu

“Zaika!” Hope grabbed me, threw me into the passenger seat and crawled to the other side, starting the car. My breathing was heavy. My heart raced. My brain was dead.