Birddddy

n’t standing a couple feet away, twirling a knife in his hand that keeps catching on the chandelier, cutting strobes of light across the small enclosure, it would be easy to forg

bly as commonplace to him as a cup of morning coffee. I curl my toes in the thin carpet, seeking its warmth—its softness. It’s been so fucking long since I felt either. “Crying will get you nowhere.” I still, only now realizing I’m sniffing quite loudly. The tears are no longer bottled up in my eyes, but stream down my cheeks unchecked. I barely feel them through the layer of dirt embedded in my skin. “It’d be best if you stop.” His words are spoken low and matter-of-fact, like whether or not I listen to him is neither here nor there. “Where are we?” I finally manage to whisper in a raspy, reedy voice I hardly recognize as my own. He doesn’t respond. I glance up, but there’s no indicator light like yo

s are slow as we make our way down the long hallway. Up ahead, where it breaks off at a T, Aquillus takes us right. A glance this way and back reveals that these halls are nearly identical to the first one. And they break off into more T’s. We pass by several double doors, all made from the same shade of wood as the walls, adorned with elegant gold handles. I don’t know how many corners we turn before we finally come to a stop at one, so either they’re intentionally trying to confuse me, or this place is actually a maze. Aquillus doesn’t knock, just lets himself in, with Corvin and I tailing behind him.I squint when the room comes into focus, raising a hand to block out the natural light pouring in from the other side of the room. At first, I think we must be on some kind of balcony—it’s that bright, whiting out my vision. Rather than wait for me to adjust, Corvin just mutters that word again— Davai—and starts forcibly walking me toward another set of doors off to the side. It’s then that I register the huge, four-poster bed taking up nearly the entirety of the one wall, an expansive burgundy

vin steps back, inspecting me from head to toe, her face bunched with displeasure. She says a string of words in some language I don’t recognize, before saying in broken English, “All skin and bones. You no feed her?” I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I try to look anywhere but at the sets of eyes watching me from various spots around the room. Ezio is here too, quietly lounging on a small window seat across the room. His back is to a tall, stained-glass window, and he’s got a leg pulled to his chest, arm curved lazily over his

r than I’d like to think, or we’re somewhere up north. Very north. That’s if I’m even on the same continent. I go cold at the thought. “Tick-tock, Ptichka,” Corvin taunts quietly, extracting a low snicker from Ezio. My eyes drift to him, then Aquillus who now has joined his brother. He leans up against the wall, fingers still playing aimlessly with the thin knife in his hand. My pulse pounds, growing louder as it fills up my ears. This time, when I turn to face Griselda, I’m trembling from head to toe. I search her gaze, notreally surprised when all I find is arched impatience. Swallowing thickly, I nod. “C-can I have some privacy?” I ask softly, dipping my gaze. “I can do it myself.” Someone grunts out a short laugh. I don’t have to look to see that it came from Corvin. “Nice try. Get on with it. We’re running out of time.” My brow knits at that. Does he just mean to clean me and take me back to the cell? “Corvin,” I only vaguely hear Ezio whisper in a reproving tone just as I whip my head t

is. Corvin clearly calls the shots around here, and the others don’t dare to disobey. Gritting my teeth, I try to block out what’s happening and focus on something else. With Corvin no longer standing before me, I can now see the huge ornate mirror hung up on the wall just past him, overlooking the sink. At first, I don’t quite realize what it is I’m seeing. Long, knotty hair that’s nearly black. Gaunt face with too-big eyes, chapped lips, and streaks of grime. A jutting collarbone. More dirt… Blood. The girl—c

hance to scrub off this filth. A hot tear slides down my cheek, one I actually feel this time. “Here,” a voice says harshly. Sniffing, I glance up to find Corvin handing me a bar of soap. He quickly looks away, like he’s just as repulsed by what he sees. Paying him little mind, I quickly take the soap and start lathering up my body, scrubbing the smooth bar over a bony arm. My fingers shake so bad, it takes everything in me not to drop it. Darting paranoid looks around the room, I watch as the twins join Corvin by the sink, blotting out the mirror. Corvin pulls Griselda off to the side, hisdark eyes flitting to mine with a silent warning as he speaks too quietly for my ears to pick up. His lips barely move, as if to keep me from reading them. That’s if he’s even speaking English. The woman nods several times, and I swear at one point, I hear her say, “Ja, Master Corvin.” I make a face at that, just as a memory flicks through my mind of a different man. One who’s older, with long white hair, a proud nose, and cornflower blue eyes. He wore black gloves and had a cane. Frowning, I try to make sense of what’s goin

y straining neck. “Wh-wh-what…” I try to speak, legs kicking out in front of me before I can remember I’m naked and in a bathtub. I start to slide, choking myself for a second as the water sloshes up around me. Corvin tugs on the collar around my neck so he can close it, and I feel my throat try to bob with a swallow but unable to do so. Ezio mutters something, and then one of the hands gripping my thick, tangled hair grips my bicep, holding me above water. Some of the pressure eases up around my neck. I he

er connecting door, this one opposite the one we came through, Griselda steps forward with a metal bucket of supplies. I can just make out scrubbing brushes and more bottles of soap poking out from the top. A small box pokes out, but it’s impossible to make out what it is from here. She hums a song under her breath as she goes about setting things on the counter, one I only faintly recognize, but am too exhausted to try to figure out how I know it. “We get you nice and clean,” she says after a moment, her voice only slightly soft

far I feel the collar digging into the back of my neck, just under my hairline. “You here now,” she says firmly, dark eyes searching my face. “Yes?” I frown, not understanding what she means. “Girl you were,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to find the right words. “She no more. She gone. Tot.” Chills skitter across my neck, dread pooling in my