Cursed By The Gods Book 1 and 2

Chapter 51

5 years later

Cleopoda walked hesitantly towards the library where she knew Father would be. She never saw him, he never came to see her and whenever she requested to see him he refused to admit her to his chambers. Whenever she asked why Father never wanted to see her Mama Remin would tell her he loved her very much but was encumbered with his royal duties but he wasn’t busy this afternoon, she knew that because she had seen him come out of the Council room after the meeting with the nobles and head towards the library. She had run back to her chambers to wash her face, hands and legs and to put on her purple tunic, the one Mama Remin made specially for her for her fifth birthday, it had brown straps and covered her all the way to her ankles.

There was no guard in front of the library, there was no one to look at her strangely or spit and curse at her so she pushed the heavy door open. It was hard and since her hand could not reach the knob she jumped to turn it, it yielded and the heavy door creaked slightly. It was dark inside, smelled like books and was stuffy, she wrinkled her nose and squinted her eyes as she tried to see clearly.

“Papa?” There was no response.

She crossed the doorway and closed the door behind her. It took her eyes a moment to see clearly. There were large, tall dark wood shelves lined up with leather-bound books and maps stuffed in them from top to bottom, there was an armor rack at a corner dressed in complete armor, a sword stood where the hand was supposed to be. Cleopoda walked towards it and ran her hands all over its silver surface. It was beautiful and cool to the touch, a shield rested at the foot of the rack and on it was the royal coat of arms, she ran her fingers over the two dark rearing horses standing back to back and the sword that was between, it was beautiful and majestic.

She got so lost in admiring the armor that she forgot why she came in the first place until she heard a sound that made her jump out of her skin, it sounded like a gasped and then grunt followed- almost as if someone was in pain. She turned around sharply and headed towards the sound.

“Papa?” she called again. As before no response came but there was heavy breathing.

She picked her pace and almost stumbled over her oversized tunic. The shelves slowed her down as there was so much of them, she looked in between them in passing until she came to an opening with a large chair and a wide table loaded with books and a lamp and an old map. There was a large window through which sunlight streamed in landing on a form writhing and breathing heavily in the large chair. Cleopoda went closer. It was papa.

“Papa.”

Octavius stopped groaning in pain, his hands still clutched the place where Ashterah’s latest a***e lay, she had burned because a servant of hers had walked in on them in her pool. It had been her idea to go frolicking in the pool but when the servant walked in on them without warning it was his fault. Of course it was very like her to blame him for her own oversight. She knew her servants used her pool whether or not she wasn’t around but she had thought it best to go there for a tryst. In her rage she had pressed her flaming hands on his belly before turning on the shocked servant, he didn’t even see what she did to the poor being before she dropped him none too gently in the library seat.

Now he paused at the one voice he had not expected to hear, from the one person he avoided at much cost.

Willing his daemon powers would work quickly to help him recover he sat up straight ignoring the pain that ripped through his body.

“What is it?” he growled at the child whose eyes were wild at the sight of him. He was grateful his clothes were on at least she wouldn’t see the reason for his discomfort.

“Are you hurt, papa?” Cleopoda asked softly, she craned her short neck to see clearly through the dark.

“I’m not,” Octavius grunted roughly. He hated the sight of her as much as he hated the sight of her sympathy, she was a constant reminder of Emilia’s betrayal.

“But…Papa…”

“I am not hurt! And stop calling me that!” Octavius screeched. His sides hurt so much it was a surprise he wasn’t tearing his clothes to blow some cool air unto his flesh and he just wanted to be alone to sooth his wounded pride and tend his wound. “Ask your w***e of a mother who your father is.”

Tears welled in Cleopoda’s eyes. Her bottom li trembled but she did well to hold her tears back, no one ever wanted to comfort her when she cried so she knew better than to let them fall. Her head hurt a lot from the voices in her head and papa’s raised voice was making it worse. She had thought papa would be happy to see her, Mama Remin said he loved her but he never treated her the way Mama Remin did. While Mama Remin and Strukus played with her and kissed her good night papa never did he same. Sometimes she would see him peep through the parted door of her chambers, she knew it was him because no one was a tall as papa nor was anyone as well built or handsome but he never made any move to come to her room to speak with her. And Mama…Remin always told her mama loved her but died at her birth but she knew that wasn’t true because she heard the maids whisper among themselves that she was the reason mama left, they said these things where she would hear because they hated her and she couldn’t understand why. There were pictures of mama in one of the rooms she had snuck into last week, mama was a beautiful woman and her smile was the sweetest. It seemed impossible that a woman as pretty as mama would leave because of her. Everyone called her a curse because she looked different but she couldn’t help how she looked or change it. No one was ever mean to Strukus the way they were mean to her and they were friends.

Cleopoda took two small steps forwards. “But…papa…”

“Get out!” Octavius raged. He flung an old leather-bound book at her and it caught her just above her left eye. He was beyond pain and rage to care. “Get out you cursed witch! I am not your papa, you don’t have my blood flowing in you,” he pointed to the door and yelled “Out!”

She retreated quickly, her forehead hurt and when she brought her hand down from it she gasped at the sticky red liquid that stained her fingers. The book had cut skin and blood trickled from it. Papa did it to her, tears ran down her cheeks as she realized that papa didn’t really love her as Mama Remin had said. She ran into her chambers, hurried over to the window and knelt in front of it to cry. Her tears made her head ache the more and it burned hot.

Strukus carried the tray his mother had given to him to deliver to the princess’s room, it was ladened with bread, milk and some figs which was Cleopoda’s favorite. It was a bit heavy for him but he had volunteered to deliver it to the princess and his heart beat frantically at the thought of seeing her, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and he loved being with her.

He got to her door and set the tray on the floor so he could push open the door. As he walked into the room he saw Cleopoda seated on her heels on the floor in front of the door with her head bowed down.

“Princess,” he called before setting the tray on the floor by the bed. “I brought you some food.”

When her head came up and he saw what she was doing he panicked. She was holding a small knife to her skin and was making small incisions on her wrist letting the blood flow freely.

“Princess!” he ran over to her and knelt beside her, he took hold of the knife and threw it out of the window carelessly. “What are you doing?”

With tears in her eyes she watched her blood flow down to stain her purple tunic. “Papa said his blood doesn’t run in me but it’s the same color, how is that possible?”

Strukus’s heart ached. He didn’t know what to say, he too as young as he was already noticed the animosity of everyone towards young Cleopoda and could not understand it.

“Papa doesn’t love me, nobody does because I look different.” She gazed squarely into his eyes, he looked away at the intensity of her stare. “You think I am ugly too? A curse?”

Far from what he thought of her, she was the princess in the stories mama told them both before they went to bed. In his eyes she held the world and he feared he would never be able to stay away from her if they grew older.

“I don’t,” he answered simply. He took her small hands into his own small ones and used the edge of his tunic to clean the blood on her hand. “Mama Remin should not see this. Mama Remin doesn’t hate you neither do I”

Cleopoda looked down to where he cleaned her hand not believing a single word. He might say so now but she knew the truth, no one wanted her, mama had run away so she would not be burdened with her. And even though she was being truthful it made no difference if she could have papa’s love.