1 1. The Morning of

Gusion

Big Sammy has banged his fists on my door, signifying that the second day i dreaded has arrived. "Master Gusion," he boomed from the other side of the door. "Your father demands your presence now. You are going to be late for your trip."

On a particularly bad day, I'd hurl one of my daggers towards my wooden door. It doesn't have to hit him — I just need to scare him enough so he'll fuck off. Today is one of those days, but Big Sammy has been nothing but sympathetic to me towards this little family ordeal (plus he might stop sneaking in daggers for me). A big oaf with a gentle heart, he's served me on behalf of the family for years. His loyalty belongs to me. It has to be. Father may have hired him, but he's been nothing but a good punching bag not only through his size but also through his empathic persona.

It isn't fair for him if I throw a tantrum and try to maim him, so being the resentful boy that I am, I made sure that he heard me groan out of sheer frustration and buried my head beneath my pillows. "Tell father I am sick." I dramatically said. "I might die if I went on with this stupid deal of his."

"Your father would sedate you with one of his spells if that means he gets your obedience." I can definitely tell that he feels sorry for me. Who wouldn't? The Paxley patriarch gets what he wants, especially from within his children. My brothers are dumb enough to comply, and I am smart enough to defy him (which may or may not have costed me). He's bad enough when mother is still around. It's almost as if her death gave him a free pass to be horrible towards us.

Two nights shackled beneath the mansion's basement if you failed to perform a refraction spell. Four whip lashes if you failed to execute a purifying spell. Six backhands to the face if you picked up a dagger instead of a stupid spellbook.

"Tell him I'll be down in ten." I made sure that I spat the words with as much venom as I can muster. Father can wield my brothers to his desire, but not me.

I was met with silence. For a second, I thought Sammy has left to relay the message, then, as if offering words of reassurance, he said, "You know your father only does this because —"

"He wants the best for me." I mocked. "I know, Sammy. He makes it clear every damn day." I would've been inclined to believe him if the things he "did for me" actually turned out good things for me. So far, the only things he's successfully given me is an empty feeling inside bottled up in a ton of resentment and bitterness.

I didn't bothered covering my bare body. Sammy would not dare enter my room especially without permission. I tidied my bed, headed for the bathroom, and ran the bath. I brushed my teeth haphazardly (because I'm pretty sure I won't be kissing faces today). I soaked myself in the tub. Grabbing my washcloth, I channeled my anger by scrubbing myself relentlessly, stopping only if the skin is red and stingy. I didn't stopped until I am sure that I look like fresh meat ready to be served to the highest bidder.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I peeked through my window and see the woods outside. The sun is just beginning to shy away from the fluffy clouds. A warm breeze struck me, and I let out a sigh. This is my life now.

Putting on a new pair of cotton trousers father has lovingly picked for me (and by that I mean forcibly) and a crisp white dress shirt, I then admired myself in the mirror. The girls around the kingdom would swoon at my thick brown bed head and my jaw that's sharp as my daggers, so it's safe to say that whoever my father intends to pair me with, would be at least pleased with the package. I wrapped the purple scarf mother has made for me around my neck, tucked my feet into a pair of riding boots (and stashed a few knives inside them too), and headed downstairs.

I made sure that I am making a show of stomping my feet as I angrily went down the staircase. The sound of my heels against the hard wood are like gunshots echoing from the ample space of the quarters. I yanked the big oak doors open, and sat myself across the dining table. One of the servants proceeded to hand me a plate of eggs and bread, her face flushed. I smiled at her as I said my thanks, and I could swear she looked lightheaded. I'd ask her to meet me in my bedroom tonight, but my big toe is prettier than her so I scratched that thought off.

"I expect you to be in your best behaviour." Father nonchalantly said from across the room. I didn't bothered looking at him for fear of what my face would convey.

"Of course, father." Is the right thing to say.

"If all goes well today," he continued without a care on just how much pressure he's putting on me. Drat my three brothers for getting married way too early. "then we shall be making arrangements on your marriage with Lady Guinevere. A marriage as early as June shall be good."

I don't want to get married in June. Hell, I don't want to get married either. But I just hummed and devoured my eggs like I don't think my opinions matter.

"And, after your marriage, you two shall consumate your marriage. I expect a boy from the two of you next year."

He lays it all down like it has already been predetermined, like I have control on what baby will she be having.I swallowed my resentment down. The food doesn't seem as appetizing anymore.

If I am a stronger person, I'd totally hook up with Lady Guinevere's brother to spite my father, but I know what's in it for me. I don't think I am foolish enough to want my head on a spjke for all the kingdom to see.

I stood up, wiped my hands to my sides, and headed for the door. "You will finish you food." Father doesn't have to look at me. "Have the servants eat them." I replied, trying to constrain the wallowing bitterness down my throat. "I am already full."

I headed for the stables and grabbed my riding cloak. Windspear is staring at me expectantly from across the room. I grabbed some hay and fed it to him through my hands, stroking his bronze mane as I did. I took his leash and led him outside.

I mounted him, kicked his side, and sped through the woods. The warm wind hits me, and it numbed every bit of anger within me, if only for a while. The raw scent of the earth, I find comforting. Birds are chirping happily above me. I envy them — they can fly wherever they want, whenever they want.

"Hiya!" Windspear ran faster at my command. I am laughing my heart out, because it felt good. Inside the woods, I am free.

And then my horse hit on something, sending me flying in shock. I went down with a thud. Windspear neighed angrily at the open space, which blocked our path. Shaking my own dizziness off, I reached for enough, and sure enough, it felt like jelly.

"You will see yourself into our courtyard." I glared towards my father's thought projection behind me. The thing is floating on air, but it could fool any onlooker for looking normal. If I went and punched him between his cold stony eyes I'd feel my fist collide against his face, but he won't even have the luxury of feeling it.

"You will not run away." He coldly reiterated. "You will see yourself into the courtyard as soon as you can.

I tried to defend myself, "I have no intentions of —"

There was a flash of light, and then I felt his hand struck my face hard, sending me to the ground once again. "I did not gave you permission to talk back, my son." he sneered. "Now gather yourself and head for the courtyard. You will not embarrass me in front of the Baroque household."

The wind swept his image away. When I'm sure it's gone, I punched the nearest trunk beside me. The yelp that came out of my mouth loosened something inside me.