'We will leave tomorrow. So pack your things and be ready.' Claire stared at Ruthivan in horror. Not only had she just witnessed him slay her own father in cold blood, now he was taking over the tribe her father built with his own hands. She stared at him and shook her head. 'No. You're not...' 'I'm not what?' Ruthivan snapped and rounded the table by which Claire stood. She swallowed, carefully choosing her words. 'You're not high born, you didn't earn it.' 'Your father didn't *earn* it. He was worthless as a leader. I will show all of them how things should be run. We will never be at the mercy of Vector again.'
Claire could say nothing. She bowed her head and nodded. She had no flames, she had no time to pretend that everything was well. She looked at the blood stain on the floor and fought the rise of emotions that choked her. 'Clean that up.' Ruthivan said, and left the room.
Dutifully, Claire went to the sink and filled a bowl with water. She couldn't even use magic to take care of the blood of her father. She got on her knees and wiped up the floor. She withdrew into herself with each stroke of the rag, knowing this was the end. She would never be free of this life.
'By the way,' Ruthivan said, entering the kitchen again as he rolled up his sleeves, 'you will do well to drop this attitude. Our people will need a figurehead to look up to - a tribal queen that is worthy of their adoration.' 'And what do you think they will say when your mate cannot leave her house.' 'Nothing, if they know what is what. You will learn to love me, Claire. You may think you hate me now, but you will learn. We have eons for you to gain understanding.' 'It will never happen.'
Ruthivan was on her like lightning. He lifted her onto her feet and shook her in both his hands. 'You will learn, do you hear me? Now, say it!' 'Say what?' she asked, her arms throbbing in his powerful grip. 'Tell me what you think of me, my love.' His request rolled out like a snarl. Claire closed her eyes and set her jaw. He shook her again, harder this time. 'The children hate you.'
The powerful slap across her face came from nowhere. She kept her eyes closed, her head bowed. 'Tell me what you think of me,' he repeated, and only when he drew back his fist to strike, did she let the disgusting words fall from her lips:
'I love you.'
