i - prologue | white sails // era

"You can't!" I slam my hands down in emphasis.

I've never seen my father look incredulous. His eyebrows, dyed from grey to jet, creep toward his hairline. He sits, I stand. My palms lay flat against his desk, the sharp sound they'd made still ringing in my ears.

My father laughs.

His eyes are the warmth of whiskey as they dance in the firelight. He leans in on his elbows, eating some of the space between us. When I flinch, his smile is genuine. I'll never understand why baring teeth is called kindness.

I breathe through the knots in my stomach, the sound of it is all that breaks the silence. His gaze lingers on all the places old wounds have faded, a threat he doesn't need to put to words. I know my father better than anyone.

Oleander hooks his finger, asking me closer. He beckons for a good son, who will bow his head and offer his cheek. But there's already dirt underneath my nails from digging this grave so I might as well, "They won't survive. That's not punishment, it's slaughter."

His chair screeches when he pushes it back. I take a breath and hold it. There's no real reason to be afraid. He doesn't like to hurt us when we're expecting it.

Still, I don't start breathing until he pushes past me. Oleander stops in front of the fireplace and clasps his hands behind his back, drawn into perfect posture. "What about my simple instructions are you struggling to comprehend, Era?"

That's right. I'm nothing.

I'm always forgetting that. He's always reminding me.

"The part where I kill two of my siblings!" I don't realize it's anger until too late. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said anything. Light flickers around my father, gold clings to his silhouette in a loving embrace. My chest aches. I miss him.

I miss having a dad.

"You don't think highly of them." Oleander clicks his tongue, dark hair falling into his eyes as he shakes his head. "I know what Lore and Circe are capable of. It's why their failure wounds me."

In my dreams, you look at me when you speak.

"They have one more chance to prove themselves." I close my eyes and my hands are warm and slick again. Lore's blood gurgles in his throat. When my father speaks, his voice is gentler than I've heard it in a long time, "It wouldn't be your fault."

"I'll take their punishment. I'll do it."

"You will do as I say." Oleander huffs out another laugh, "No more, no less."

He's right, I am his son. I don't know how to be anything else.

"Okay. I'll tell the others the test is coming early." Guilt has made it's home in me, I hardly notice the weight anymore, "I don't suppose I can warn Lore or Circe?"

Oleander's lip curls, "You want to scare them?" He strides toward the door, my feet remain rooted to the spot. The fire laughs at me. "It's crueler than I would be, but go ahead."

The door clicks shut behind him.

I wait until I can't hear his footsteps before I let my knees give out.