do,’ he mocked.
He sounds like the girl.
‘You know of John Pierre, I presume?’
John Pierre? Yes, I know him all right
.
‘Of course.’
‘And I will assume you are aware that it was his son you killed in Trafalgar Square?’
‘Clearly.’
‘Then I am sure it will not come as a surprise to you to hear that he is not particularly pleased.’
No shit, Sherlock
. ‘No surprise whatsoever.’
‘Men fuelled by revenge are the most dangerous. Watch out, Varn,’ Lee snarled.
The whole room stared at me, my father’s gaze the most prominent, listening, waiting for my reaction. ‘That’s not much of a threat, Lee. You are aware that our Kingdom could halve the population of this country in a day, aren’t you?
Tick, tick went the human mind. ‘You might be a leech, Varn, but somehow I don’t think you’re cut out for genocide.’
‘Perhaps not, but I would happily make a start with your daughter.’
The words had hardly left my mouth when Sky held his hand out for the phone, obviously deciding I had done enough damage. I gave it to him gladly and he continued the conversation, Father diverting his attention to him. Jag sauntered up and nudged me below the ribs.
‘Look at you, little brother, talking politics. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have had a personality overhaul.’ Then he lowered his voice and turned so he was no longer facing Mary, his girlfriend. ‘Nice catch for a human.’ He winked at me and left to shower Mary with compliments.
So he hasn’t changed in the time he has been away then.
I slipped from the room, tired of the talk. Girly sat curled on the bottom step, her head buried in her arms. I couldn’t hear sobbing, although as she raised her head her eyes were still red and blotched, but gleaming with a hope that changed to an accusing stare once she realized there was no phone in my hand. She scrabbled up and backed into the banister as I passed, her stare following me as I thought I heard her mutter that I was a jerk.
Violet
Hours merged into days, every day as insignificant as the next, time passing in a blur, nothing standing out.
I spent almost all of my time cooped up in my room, amusing myself as best I could. It had been a week exactly since that short phone call, and it still troubled my thoughts. I had hoped that I would be able to call my family again, but had given up on that. Nobody talked to me, apart from the occasional, brief exchange.
It would be my birthday in thirteen days. I would turn eighteen a hostage. My fingers tightened into a ball as I felt a familiar lurch in my stomach and my throat closed up.
A brisk knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and I quickly wiped my eyes, just in case they looked teary. Without waiting for a reply, the person entered as I was standing up. To my surprise, it was not Fabian, who seemed to be the only one interested in me, but Sky.
He cleared his throat, filling the room with a definite awkwardness. I shifted from one foot to the other. ‘You’re wanted downstairs. Now.’
‘Why?’
As he left, his gaze glided up and down my body, taking in my attire – a scruffy pair of Lyla’s old pyjamas. ‘You have two minutes.’
His deliberate avoiding of the question unnerved me, but I was already in the wardrobe when I heard the bedroom door close. I grabbed something a little less inappropriate and changed.
I left the room, wondering what the great urgency was. I had never been requested to be ‘seen’ in the fifteen days I had been here and Sky had never spoken directly to me.
The eldest Varn child was much older than the other five: a thousand, Fabian said, but he was not the heir to the throne. No,
Kaspar
was heir. Sky was married to Arabella, a few years his junior and they had two daughters. They lived in Romania mostly, as did Jag and Mary; I suspected it was my arrival that had prompted their visit.
The entrance hall was a frenzy of activity when I reached the top of the staircase. It seemed
He sounds like the girl.
‘You know of John Pierre, I presume?’
John Pierre? Yes, I know him all right
.
‘Of course.’
‘And I will assume you are aware that it was his son you killed in Trafalgar Square?’
‘Clearly.’
‘Then I am sure it will not come as a surprise to you to hear that he is not particularly pleased.’
No shit, Sherlock
. ‘No surprise whatsoever.’
‘Men fuelled by revenge are the most dangerous. Watch out, Varn,’ Lee snarled.
The whole room stared at me, my father’s gaze the most prominent, listening, waiting for my reaction. ‘That’s not much of a threat, Lee. You are aware that our Kingdom could halve the population of this country in a day, aren’t you?
Tick, tick went the human mind. ‘You might be a leech, Varn, but somehow I don’t think you’re cut out for genocide.’
‘Perhaps not, but I would happily make a start with your daughter.’
The words had hardly left my mouth when Sky held his hand out for the phone, obviously deciding I had done enough damage. I gave it to him gladly and he continued the conversation, Father diverting his attention to him. Jag sauntered up and nudged me below the ribs.
‘Look at you, little brother, talking politics. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have had a personality overhaul.’ Then he lowered his voice and turned so he was no longer facing Mary, his girlfriend. ‘Nice catch for a human.’ He winked at me and left to shower Mary with compliments.
So he hasn’t changed in the time he has been away then.
I slipped from the room, tired of the talk. Girly sat curled on the bottom step, her head buried in her arms. I couldn’t hear sobbing, although as she raised her head her eyes were still red and blotched, but gleaming with a hope that changed to an accusing stare once she realized there was no phone in my hand. She scrabbled up and backed into the banister as I passed, her stare following me as I thought I heard her mutter that I was a jerk.
Violet
Hours merged into days, every day as insignificant as the next, time passing in a blur, nothing standing out.
I spent almost all of my time cooped up in my room, amusing myself as best I could. It had been a week exactly since that short phone call, and it still troubled my thoughts. I had hoped that I would be able to call my family again, but had given up on that. Nobody talked to me, apart from the occasional, brief exchange.
It would be my birthday in thirteen days. I would turn eighteen a hostage. My fingers tightened into a ball as I felt a familiar lurch in my stomach and my throat closed up.
A brisk knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and I quickly wiped my eyes, just in case they looked teary. Without waiting for a reply, the person entered as I was standing up. To my surprise, it was not Fabian, who seemed to be the only one interested in me, but Sky.
He cleared his throat, filling the room with a definite awkwardness. I shifted from one foot to the other. ‘You’re wanted downstairs. Now.’
‘Why?’
As he left, his gaze glided up and down my body, taking in my attire – a scruffy pair of Lyla’s old pyjamas. ‘You have two minutes.’
His deliberate avoiding of the question unnerved me, but I was already in the wardrobe when I heard the bedroom door close. I grabbed something a little less inappropriate and changed.
I left the room, wondering what the great urgency was. I had never been requested to be ‘seen’ in the fifteen days I had been here and Sky had never spoken directly to me.
The eldest Varn child was much older than the other five: a thousand, Fabian said, but he was not the heir to the throne. No,
Kaspar
was heir. Sky was married to Arabella, a few years his junior and they had two daughters. They lived in Romania mostly, as did Jag and Mary; I suspected it was my arrival that had prompted their visit.
The entrance hall was a frenzy of activity when I reached the top of the staircase. It seemed
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