I didn’t answer, losing count of how many times I had heard that. After a while, the rain began to trickle down the back of my neck and into my shirt and I got up, handing the blanket back to Kaspar and deciding to head back in. Inside, the room was dark as the lamps weren’t lit; neither was the sun shining in.
‘Your father wants to see you, you know. He said he will listen,’ Kaspar called, emerging from between the voiles surrounding the doors. ‘It can’t do any harm to try and make him understand. And you’re the only one who can do that.’
‘He doesn’t have to understand, just agree to resign,’ I pointed out, leaving the room for my own to change into something dry. When I reached my wardrobe and picked out a fresh shirt, I heard movement behind me. I turned to see Kaspar leaning against the frame of the doorway, his arms folded across the chest.
‘But he won’t agree, which is why we need you.’
At that moment there was a curt knock on the door and I jumped, startled. Kaspar went to open the door.
‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘What are you doing here?’ I heard a second voice say: my father’s voice. A little piece of me groaned and I let my hair fall back around my face. Kaspar said nothing and my father continued, his voice becoming more irritated with every word. ‘Where’s Violet?’
I took a deep breath and stepped out, noticing the distance between my father and Kaspar right away, as well as the glares they were shooting each other. Kaspar went to leave but I raised my hand and told him to stay. My father’s frown deepened.
‘Why won’t you agree to resign?’ I demanded, crossing my arms across my chest. Kaspar perched himself on the windowsill, studying my face and then my father’s. ‘You’re putting mum and Lily at risk too. It’s not fair.’
‘I don’t see why I should resign,’ he replied, mirroring my folded arms. I closed my eyes, willing myself to be patient. He would have to agree eventually, I knew, but I would prefer it to be sooner rather than later.
‘Because what you did was wrong and you’re too much of a risk—’
‘Because I put the welfare of the people of this country before the life of one woman? Is that so wrong?!’
I opened my mouth to reply but it wasn’t the sound of my voice that filled the room. Instead, I heard the springs of the bed being forced down and then the strangled cry of my father as a hand enclosed his neck.
‘Kaspar, get off him!’ I cried out, dashing around the bed and yanking at his hand. He didn’t even seem to hear me as his eyes became black from the pupil out, like a dark fire consuming the forest and pluming smoke. He shook my father, whose face was becoming blotched and red as he stuttered and gasped for air. His eyes roamed across the room like he couldn’t focus until they settled just to the left of me, pitiful and bloodshot.
‘Kaspar! Let him go!’
To my surprise, he did, leaving my father to rock back on his heels and splutter. I wrapped my arm around him, helping him upright again.
‘If she had signed that treaty, your kind would have run unchecked,’ he forced through gritted teeth. ‘People would have died. I stopped that.’
Kaspar surged forward again and I only just managed to dive in front of him, blocking his path.
‘Enough! Dad, shut up, and Kaspar, get out!’
Without saying anything he left, leaving me alone with my father. I walked away from him to the window, looking out towards the grounds.
‘Lily should go home if you come to Athenea with us. She needs to rest,’ I sighed, forcing deep breaths into my lungs. ‘In fact, why did she even come in the first place? It’s not safe here.’
‘We weren’t expecting this.’
‘That was naïve,’ I snapped. He said nothing. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He stood stock still, his face still a light shade of purple. His shirt was dishevelled, as was his greying hair. It was so unlike him – he was always so tidy. ‘Just resign. They’re not just threatening to kill you if the protection is removed. It’s mum and Lily too. They hate you. I can’t even believe how civilized they have been so far, because you don’t deserve it.’
I heard a hiss as he forced his breath between his gritted teeth. ‘Listen to yourself. What have you become? Don’t you remember what you saw in Trafalgar Square?’ I turned sharply back to the window. Of course I remembered. I will never forget it. ‘Men torn apart worse than any animal is slaughtered. Families left behind; they rape women – women like you – and kill children. Humans are not just food. They’re playthings. And you are telling me you want to join that, Violet?’
‘Whether I want it or not is irrelevant. I’m a Heroine and I have no choice. But, as you ask, no, I don’t mind turning.’
‘Would you say the same thing if that Prince was not around?’
This time I didn’t reply and stared at the blotched patches of green through the windowpane, as the rain fell harder and the colours of the forest became one even emerald shade, matching Kaspar’s eyes. My silence answered the question.
‘And what will you do when he drops you? When you argue? When things go wrong? Who will you have?’
Each question broke a rib, puncturing my lungs and forcing the air out in rasps. I’d asked myself those questions, of course I had, but to hear them from another’s mouth, to hear them spoken with such cool contempt, triumphant yet desperate contempt, brought each and every question and every uncertainty to the surface with such a force I found myself turning and screaming at my father.
‘We’re tied! We can’t drop each other! Fate doesn’t work like that.’ My voice was definite, but in the back of my mind I felt the first pangs of doubt.
‘You believe in that stuff?’
I recoiled. ‘You don’t?’
‘I’m not sure what I believe anymore. But I do know that I want the best for you and this isn’t it.’ I sunk down onto the windowsill, watching as the rain pummelled harder and harder against the glass, teardrops warping into cubes of hail that streaked towards the earth, hitting it over and over. ‘You’re my daughter and I love you. All I want is for us to be a family again. Is that so much to ask?’ I didn’t answer. ‘Come home, Violet. I was thinking Lily could have another few months off and you could defer your university place until next September, and we could spend the spring travelling. Somewhere hot, by the sea, Australia, maybe. Just name what countries you want to see and we’ll go, I promise—’