“Good.” Preyuna knelt and laid her hands on both sides of Isellta’s head.
Isellta flinched at the physical contact, but he didn’t move away. He met her gaze. “I am ready, Your Majesty.”
He said that he trusts me. She narrowed her eyes. He must think of me as a fool. A fool who can be very easily fooled. But he’s wrong.
I see it.
I see the fear in his eyes.
He thinks I’m going to hurt him. NO. He expects me to hurt him. As if that’s all that I do to him. She huffed out an annoyed sigh. I’ll have to have a conversation with him about that. But not now. Later. After Eschia has left the room. There’s no point in getting her involved in a private discussion between Isellta and myself.
She tapped into her queen magic.
Everything in the room disappeared in a brilliant blaze of white light. Yet, she could still feel Isellta’s head between her hands.
In the room’s silent white, an image appeared before Preyuna’s eyes. A woman at a weaving loom. She was beautiful — brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin. Marakai Mal Hoven. She was completely focused on her weaving. Isellta toddled over to her and smiled. “Preddy. So preddy lines, Momma.” His immature wings fluttered.
That wasn’t amongst the memories Preyuna was searching for. She made an impatient hand gesture and the memory disappeared from sight. Others appeared in its place. But they were all of Isellta’s memories. NOT what she was looking for at all.
She kept searching until Mark Caten appeared. He stood before her with that much-hated smirk on his face. “Hello, cupcake.” He removed his shirt and flipped it over his shoulder onto the bed. “I know you missed me.” He sauntered over to her. “You always miss me when I’m not around and that is perfectly natural.” He grabbed her neck with both hands and pressed his thumbs against her throat. That smirk was still on his face, but his eyes were cold and searching. “The creature will always miss its creator.”
“You are not my creator!” Preyuna yelled in unison with her memory. She pushed her magic at the memory. It shattered into impossible-to-repair smithereens.
Another memory took its place.
Mark Caten grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. “Say it. Come on, my pathetic Walmart-brand plastic-wrapped cupcake. SAY IT.”
She destroyed that memory with a furious scream.
Another memory.
Mark Caten pinned her to the bed. He put his mouth close to her ear and whispered—
Destroyed.
Another memory.
Mark Caten balled his hand into a fist and—-
Destroyed.
Another.
Mark Caten laughed as she screa—
Destroyed.
Another.
Mark Caten grabbed her—
Destroyed.
Another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
And she knew. Isellta would not remember these memories. But they would still live on in her own mind. No matter what. They would always be there.
Another.
Mark Caten—
Destroyed.
And another.
Mark Caten—
Destroyed.
Another.
And another.
And another.
Until they were all gone.
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