First Debt

And I meant to do it fucking well.

It didn’t take long to arrive in the room where the First Debt would take place.

Tradition dictated where each one was to be carried out. And this one was the nicest location of them all.

As the debts progressed, witnesses would be called, but as this was the first, it was just me and Nila. Blessed silence and no critical eyes on my deliverance. Only the hidden video camera would document everything and go on file.

Entering the solarium, I locked the large glass doors and pocketed the key before gripping Nila’s waist and placing her on the ground. She immediately stepped backward, her chest heaving with fear.

If she passed out again, my brother wasn’t there to catch her. She’d fall, and I’d use her unconsciousness to place her exactly where she was needed.

“Where have you brought me?” She glanced around the space, taking in the palm trees, exotic ferns, orchids, and soaring three-story glass roof. The room was big, shaped like an octagon, made entirely from glass. It was hot, humid, and stuffy.

Perfect for being naked and encouraging skin to flush. To react to something painful and bloom.

“Be grateful it’s not the dungeon or the ballroom—both of those will be used, and both will be a far sight worse than this.”

Nila swallowed, the column of muscle of her throat contracting with nervousness. “You really are insane.”

I stepped forward, secretly pleased when she reeled backward. After spending time in my brother’s company, she had to remember who she truly liked. As much as she’d vehemently deny it, she enjoyed sparring with me.

And fuck, I enjoyed it, too.

“Mental health, Ms. Weaver. Need I remind you I’m in perfect capacity?”

Her head swivelled to a large post in the centre of the room. It was used mainly for fern seedlings and vines, before being replanted once their root system was strong enough. I wasn’t a gardener, but my grandmother often brought me and my sister in here to teach us about decorum and what was expected of us. She’d prattle on, all while tending to her beloved greenery.

Nila drifted forward, noticing what was hidden amongst the cleaned post and silk flowers that were there purely for morbid decoration.

Cuffs were chained to the top of the post, dangling down the sides. There was a winch and pulley so as to tighten the length of chain. It was simple, entirely in keeping with how they would’ve used a whipping post six-hundred-years ago.

She shook her head, swivelling to face me. “Whatever you’re about to do, stop.”

“Stop?” As if I have a choice. Smile for the cameras. We’re both on show.

“Yes. Just—find that morality I know is inside you. Show some compassion, for God’s sake.” She staggered to the side, another small vertigo spell.

I’d hated her weakness before, but now it could be used as an aid. Whenever she stumbled or fell, it meant I was getting to her. It meant I’d made my way beneath her skin and stressed her just enough for her mind to try and flee.

It was a symbol of power over her.

I liked it more than I should.

“Compassion isn’t in my repertoire, Ms. Weaver. I have no remorse, no pity. The unnecessary emotion of affinity for victims is the worst kind of betrayal.” My father’s words came out smoothly, stroking my raw nerves, granting a strange kind of peace.

“You can sprout bullshit all you want, but no matter your lies, you feel, Jethro. You felt something for me in the forest. You felt something for me when your brother held me in his arms. And if you can’t see that, then I feel sorry for you.”

I prowled forward, chasing her slowly around the post like a hawk chases a sparrow. “You’re mistaken. I’ve told you on numerous occasions—please me, and you’ll be rewarded. You pleased me by making me come, and you pleased me by showing how affected and scared of me you truly are by seeking comfort from my brother. Both will be rewarded.”

I hoped to God she didn’t hear my lies.

She stopped moving, holding her ground. “Fine. Have it your way. Your father repeated what you told me about the varying degree of each debt. This whole thing is completely ludicrous, but I’m done playing your game.”

I cocked my head. “This isn’t a game.”

She sneered. “It’s the worst game of all, don’t kid yourself.” Spreading her stance and opening her arms wide, she murmured, “Do your worst, Jethro Hawk. I’m ready to pay your First Debt.”

I WANTED TO hyperventilate; my heart winged with such terror.

But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He already knew he affected me by my stupid vertigo spells. He didn’t need to know the complex fear and fascination bubbling in my blood.

Why hadn’t I seen it sooner? Why hadn’t I seen past what he projected and looked deeper into his golden eyes? He was so tangled up in what he thought he was, he had no clue what he might be.

And that was a pitiful shame, not to mention dangerous for all involved. I could predict how he would react, based on what values he pretended to follow, but he could easily snap and do something completely the opposite.

Damn man.

Damn Hawk.

Jethro lowered his chin, glaring at me from beneath his brow. His hands opened and closed by his thighs. “You’re ready to pay the First Debt? Just like that?”

I nodded. “No point in dragging it out. I want it over with.”

Something flashed over his face, but he didn’t retaliate. Instead, he gritted his teeth and moved toward the post in the centre of the octagonal greenhouse.

My vision wouldn’t stop hazing in and out, tugging on the strings of my brain, threatening to throw me into the wall or shove me to the ground.

This is the First Debt.

Mr. Hawk’s and Jethro’s words echoed in my head. The debts start off easy. It was the later ones I had to worry about. The ones I didn’t know of. The ones that would ultimately deliver my head.

Don’t think about that.

I turned my mind to Kestrel and the surprising kinship I’d begun to feel, before Jethro rudely stole me away. For almost three hours, I’d found something I didn’t think I’d ever find—in my old life or new.

A friend.

Kes had been witty and kind, sharing anecdotes of his childhood, Jethro’s childhood, and even some details he remembered of my mother. For some reason, having him talk about her didn’t upset me nearly as much as hearing it from Jethro or his father.