Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“You can tell me anything, Caz. You know that, don’t you? I won’t ever judge you,” I whisper.
A stretch of silence passes, then he exhales slowly. “You really want the story?” he asks.
“I just want to understand more about you, but if you’re truly not comfortable telling me, I understand, and I’ll back off.”
His head lowers, and his eyes fall to the floor. I take one of his hands, wrapping it in mine and resting my cheek on his sculpted upper arm.
“When I was eight,” he starts in a low voice. “My father, Magnus, found out about me. He had no clue that he had a son, and apparently his wife was barren, so he had no heirs.” He pauses, looking through one of the windows. “After all this with Manx, or Decius or whatever we’re to call him, I realize Magnus found out I existed because of him, and when he did, he sent my mother a message that he was coming for me.”
“Why?” I ask, confused. “Why would he just try to take you?”
“He was getting old,” Caz informs me. “When you are monarch and you turn the grand age of one-hundred-fifty, you must have an heir. Otherwise, The Council will revoke you of the position and give the role to someone else within the family. Magnus didn’t want that. He was a power-hungry piece of shit, and he was willing to do anything to keep his place. Sure, he’d slept with women, but he was very careful not to leave any of them pregnant because of his sparkling reputation, according to Maeve. Especially if the women belonged to Blackwater. I’m assuming Manx knew of Magnus’ disposition and provided him a solution: me. I’m not quite sure what Manx would have gotten out of that, but it happened. So…Magnus came for me, just to have someone fill the position. He didn’t care what my mother wanted, or that he hardly knew a damn thing about me. His goal was to take me and train me to become monarch of Blackwater. But it didn’t help that I was a bastard, and what made matters worse was Magnus’ wife hated me. She hated me for being born, for existing, and she shoved that hatred down Magnus’ throat daily. Here I was, the product of his adultery, and she despised me for it.” He sits up taller, drawing in a breath and then exhaling again. “My mum…she tried hiding me when she found out he was coming, but he found out the coordinates of where I was hiding. I assume it was Manx who gave them to him.” He clenches a fist, brows stitching together. I rub his hand, and the fist loosens. “She tried getting me away, running to Vanora where we’d be protected, but we had no time. I was taken, and so was she, and after that day I never saw her again. I lived with Magnus in Blackwater up until I was nineteen. Nineteen is when he died, but before that, he wanted to harden me. I was rebellious and didn’t want to be a part of the monarch life, so to punish me, he took me all the way to Ripple Hills, where the fighting caves are. He and Rami’s father, Buckley, were chummy then.”
“Ugh, Rami,” I mutter. Rami was the piece of shit who tried to rape me in Ripple Hills. Even though he’s dead now, courtesy of Caz blowing his brains out with a gun, I still hate him.
“Yes. That fucker. Anyway, his father and mine casted their bets on me and made me fight. If I lost, they’d beat me, or worse, shoot me with guns and then heal me with a powerful healing elixir from one of their hired Mythics. Sometimes they’d use razors to slice my abdomen or my chest. Sometimes they’d bring other fighters in to team up on me. The punishments were past the point of suffering, but always short of death. But I can tell you, in that moment and many, many years after, all I wanted was for death to steal me away.”
I wince at that, remembering the time I saw him point a gun at his own head. I squeeze his hand tighter, and he turns his gaze to me.
“I was just a boy, Willow. I was scared, alone, afraid…and Magnus didn’t care. He forced me to grow up cold and angry, just so I would become like him—a cold and angry monarch. I’d never felt such relief when I found out the lady monarch had died, and that he would be dying too. I swore when I took over that I’d never be like him—that I’d make a change and better the people.” He pauses, very briefly. “I realized some people are no better than he was, though, and that there will always be others out there who wish me dead or wish harm on the people I care about. I suppose it comes with being a leader. When I took over, Buckley thought he could still control me. He thought that I was afraid of him until I headbutted him and left him with a permanently crooked nose.”