Heir of Ashes

Chapter 10 : Mine to mark

Dinner was full of Dominiq's sharp looks, Caden’s smug smirks, and my mom's tight-lipped attempts to keep the peace. I was grateful when it was finally over. I wanted to crawl out of it and hide somewhere dark and quiet.

Instead, I scooped Freya into my arms as she yawned, her little curls tickling my jaw.

Caden stormed off, his poor ego probably hurt at not receiving any form of goodnight from me. If only he could stay away. I honestly need a way to make him break off the engagement. He must have a limit. At some point, he will have to get tired of me saying no and just move on.

Mom took the twins to bed. It’s easier for her to get them into bed. They’re eight—easy to put to bed. Easy to leave behind. She tucks them in and then returns to Dominiq’s side. Leah goes straight to her room. We have a curfew. We need to be in our rooms by 8 pm. The kids have come too close to discovering Dominiq’s little dark secret before.

The truth is, Leah and Freya are the most neglected of us all.

They are only here for what Dominiq can get for them.

If they weren’t his blood, they would have been sent away with their mothers.

The castle halls quieted in that still, heavy way they always did after the monster retreated to his office.

I carried Freya to her room, letting her pick which pyjamas she wanted. She chose the soft purple ones with the tiny glitter stars -I always slipped them to the front of her drawer because they make her smile. I got her ready for bed. It was already getting late. I sat on her bed, combing her soft blonde hair that had been tied up too long.

Once she was tucked under her blanket, hugging her stuffed fox, she blinked up at me with those big, golden, curious eyes that always made my chest ache. It’s the only thing she got from her mom. All of us have green eyes.

“Mei… What is Lolara?” The question hit me like a stone skipping across water-soft, but spreading ripples everywhere. She must’ve heard it at dinner. Father said the name enough times when he was talking about his plans. He always said it with a hunger that made my stomach twist.

“Well,” I said softly, “Lolara is one of the four kingdoms of the Gemcrest Realm.” She frowned and put her finger to her nose-her thinking pose. It looks so cute.

“Like us?”

“Yes, exactly like us.” I smiled, keeping my voice light, turning something complicated into a bedtime story. “A very long time ago, before there were castles or princesses or even grown-ups bossing everyone around…” That made her giggle. Good. Let her laugh at him rather than fear him.

“…four brave friends came to a big empty land together. They each carried a gemstone. A red ruby, a blue sapphire, a green emerald, and a purple amethyst.”

“Purple like my pyjamas!” she whispered excitedly.

“Exactly like your pyjamas,” I whispered back, tapping her little nose.

“So, the friends decided to build four kingdoms. The ruby friend built Vermillia-that’s ours,” I said, placing a hand over her tiny chest. “The sapphire friend built Azuria, where Aunt Ava is Queen. The emerald friend built Veridia-that’s where Caden is from.”

She wrinkled her nose at the name. “I don’t like him.”

I tried not to laugh. “Neither do I.” She grinned sleepily.

“And the last friend,” I continued, “built the purple kingdom-Lolara. It’s full of music and beautiful purple mountains. They’re the only kingdom we aren’t connected to.”

Freya squinted up at me. “What does…‘con-nected’ mean?”

“It means… a family tied together,” I explained gently. “Like how Mom is married to Father. And Aunt Ava is married to Uncle Enrique. And one day,” My voice dipped “Father wants me to marry Caden. Then Vermillia, Azuria, and Veridia would all be linked through marriage.”

She blinked slowly. “But not Lolara?”

“No.” I smoothed her blanket. “Not Lolara.” She seemed to think deeply about that, her small brow furrowed.

“So Daddy wants all four colours in our house?” The innocence of the question almost broke me. If only it were that simple.

I forced my voice to stay gentle. “Yes. Daddy… wants everything. He thinks that if all the kingdoms are connected to him, everything will be perfect.”

“But… everything is already perfect.” She reached for my hand. “'Cause we have you.” My throat tightened so sharply it hurt. How can she have so much faith in me if I don’t even have faith in myself? No matter what I do or say, Dominiq is the one with all the power. I have managed to protect them so far, but for how much longer?

“Oh, Freya.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead, the warmth grounding me in a way nothing else could. “I’ll always be here. No matter what Daddy wants.”

She blinked sleepily. “Even if he wants the whole world?”

“Even then,” I whispered the lie, because if he gets his way, I will be shipped off to Veridia soon.

“Even if you go live in another castle?” She said it too softly.

Too knowingly.

Kids see more than adults want to admit.

I swallowed. “If I have to go, I’ll visit. I promise.”

“Pinkie?” Her tiny finger appeared from beneath the blanket.

I hooked mine around it carefully. “Pinkie promise.” Her eyes softened, finally drifting closed, her breath slowing into that peaceful rhythm that always made my heart hurt-because she deserved a safer life than this castle could ever give her.

“Goodnight, little star,” I whispered. As I reached the door, she murmured sleepily:

“Mei… don’t let Daddy get all four.” My hand froze on the doorknob. Her words chilled me. She shouldn’t even understand something like that.

“I’ll try,” I whispered. But even to myself…it didn’t sound like a promise I could keep. Especially knowing that his plan is to make her marry the Lolara heir.

By the time I reach my room, the castle walls feel closer than ever, leaning in, listening, waiting for me to break.

The moment the door clicks shut behind me, my breath shatters. I lean back against the wood, pressing a shaking hand to my chest, trying to force air into lungs that won’t obey. The day slams into me all at once-Caden’s hand on my thigh, his fingers gripping tighter the harder I tried to pull away. His smug voice. His laugh sounded like he already owned me. And the hush-hush terror in Freya’s eyes when she asked about Lolara, like even she felt Father’s hunger for control.

My stomach twists.

My right leg tingles, haunted, as if he were still holding my leg.

I sink onto my bed, burying my face in my hands. I try breathing as my mom taught me when I was younger, before she became a ghost haunting her own life.

In-

Out-

In-

No. Not enough. Nothing is enough.

Not in this place.

This castle is poison. Every room has memories etched into the walls-my father’s voice, Adena’s muffled crying, the feel of running barefoot down these halls with the twins on my heels, before everything turned sharp. I had to get them out; I couldn’t let them see, not like I did.

I can’t breathe here.

I can’t breathe at all.

I stand so fast my knees buckle. My pulse pounds in my ears as I grab my hoodie and slip it over my head. My hands are trembling, but I force myself to keep going.

I can’t stay here tonight.

I can’t.

Quiet as a shadow, I open my balcony door and slip out. The cool night air hits my face, and for a second, I just stand there, finally able to draw a real breath.

Then I climb.

Climbing down the vines is stupid, dangerous, reckless…

But maybe that’s exactly why I do it.

I’ve been doing this since I was ten. It was easier back then. I used to climb out here when I was late for lessons and could hear Father’s footsteps thundering down the hall. While he searched my room for me, I’d slip away and make my way to the lesson like nothing had happened.

When my feet hit the grass, I run. If I linger, I might be caught. There are patrols at night. They circle the castle. If they aren’t here now, they are on the way. They can turn the corner at any moment and catch me.

If I hesitate, I am caught.

I didn’t dare to look over mt shoulder. I don’t want the fear of my getting caught slowing me down. I heart raced as I reached the edge of the castle property. I looked back at the castle, and I hate it. It looks so picturesque, I wish I could burn it and all its secrets to the ground.

---

I followed the road walking all the way to Heartspan, and it feels like stepping into another world. The city is alive, with warm lights glowing in windows, people laughing, music drifting from open bars. No guards trailing me. No father watching. No fiancé lurking like a curse tied to my shadow.

For once… I’m just a girl in a hoodie.

Anonymous.

Free.

I walk slowly, soaking in the sounds, the normality, the ease of it all. My heartbeat begins to slow, my lungs finally expanding fully. I could cry from the relief. Then I see it. A tattoo parlour. Neon lights are buzzing. Door propped open. A sign that reads Walk-ins welcome.

I stop dead. It felt like it was calling to me.

My right leg pulses again-phantom fingerprints crawling up my skin, the echo of Caden’s grip making me flinch. My hands curl into fists. I am not letting them control me anymore. There has to be some sort of limit, and my body is my limit. It’s mine to do with wherever I want. Caden doesn’t get to just touch me as he wishes.

I walk inside.

---

The artist is a woman with dark braids, arms covered in beautiful ink. She doesn’t look up right away. She was busy drawing a new design. It looked good, which made me a little bit nervous about what I was about to do.

“Do you have a design in mind or would you like to see what designs I have done?” she asks, voice warm, steady.

“Yes,” I breathe before I can talk myself out of it. “My whole leg. Right side. From hip to ankle.” This seems to get her attention. She glances up. Her eyes widen slightly, but not in judgment-just in surprise. Maybe I’m not the type of person she expected to walk in here. I don’t even think I am the type to just make such rash decisions, especially since I know that there would be grave consequences for it.

“You sure about that? That’s not a small decision.” She must have noticed my hesitation. This is the craziest thing I have ever done. My rebellions have always been small ones, not enough to be noticed but enough to give me some of my sanity back. This is my body….I remind myself. Take control back.

“I’m sure.” I tried to sound confident. I don’t know if I did, so I smile at her.

”That is going to take a long time, and it is nearly closing time. Would you like to come back another day?” I was about to panic. If I didn’t do this now, I wouldn’t be doing it.

I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. If the moment is lost, so is my certainty.

”No, I can’t come another time. I am only here for today.” I said, hoping she wouldn’t see through the lie. She didn’t seem to believe me as she looked me up and down.

She nods slowly. “Alright. What do you want?” I couldn’t believe she was agreeing to help me. I could tell she didn’t believe me.

I swallow hard. My throat feels raw. I think about it for a bit. I also like to doodle, but nothing like she does. There has always been a pattern that I have drawn over and over again.

“Flowers at the top,” I say, sliding my hoodie up enough to expose my hip. “Soft ones, roses. Lace woven through. Then… at mid-thigh… a skull. Dark. Detailed. And then flowers again from the knee down.”

She studies me carefully. “Symbolic?” She asks, already knowing it means something. Why would you want to put something on your body permanently if it doesn’t mean anything? I nod my head. “Very.” She doesn’t push for more, which I am very grateful for.

“Half of the payment now and half when we are done.” It makes sense. People must have walked out without paying before. It is not like she can take the tattoo back. I pull out my card.

“You can just do the full payment at once.” I trust her not to mess this up. I saw her drawing, so I know she is good at drawing. I would pay her regardless of the outcome.

“Okay,” she says gently. “Let’s give you something that belongs to you.”

Something inside me cracks. Those words speak to my soul. For the next few hours, I sit in her chair, hood up, jaw clenched, eyes burning. The pain is sharp, constant, and grounding. Every sting of the needle feels like reclaiming a piece of myself. Like carving my voice back into my own skin.

Flowers for the girl I was, delicate, hopeful.

Lace for the innocence I never got to keep.

A skull for the darkness that follows me home every night.

More flowers for the girl I’m desperately trying not to lose.

When it’s done, my leg is an entire story-my story-etched permanently into me. I stand in front of the mirror in the small studio bathroom. My breath catches.

It’s beautiful.

It’s violent.

It’s mine.

And when Caden sees it…

He’ll choke on how much he hates it.

He’ll hate that I marked what he thought he owned.

That I stained the skin he touched.

Good.

Let him hate it.

I pull my hoodie back down, pay the artist, and walk out into the night with a new weight on my leg, but a lighter one in my chest.

---

Later that night. I wait in the shadows until the guards turn.

Then I run.

I slip inside just before they circle back.

No one sees me.

That’s the most dangerous part.

As I got into my room, I let go of the breath I had been holding while sneaking about. I placed my hand on the covered tattoo.

Next time Caden grabs my leg…

His hand will land on a skull.

And maybe-finally-

He’ll understand:

I am not his to touch.

Not his to claim.

Not his at all.

Not anymore.

The morning light creeps through my window, pale and fragile, and I feel the weight of last night settling into my bones. I stare at my leg under the thin leggings I’d worn to bed. The tattoo… It’s permanent. Every curve of the flowers and the dark skull etched into my skin is a reminder of what I did-my rebellion, my defiance. A thrill of relief had carried me through the night, but now… panic claws at my chest.

Father. He will see it. Eventually. He will see it, and he will lose it. He doesn’t agree that my body belongs to me. He made me, and every inch of me belongs to him until he sells me off to the right heir, the heir that will benefit him most. Then every inch of me belongs to him, in my case, Caden.

I pull off the leggings and carefully slip into a dress. A black-and-red short dress, zipped up the front, with red and black stripes, half solid black, with a collared shirt front. House colors. Bold. Sharp. Visible. My heart races as I pull it over my shoulders, the hem just grazing mid thigh, deliberately short. If he sees my leg, he’ll see the tattoo. I’d rather get it over with than worry myself sick until he finally does.

I tell myself to breathe. I tell myself it’s just a piano lesson. Just practice. Nobody cares. I move carefully to the piano, letting the morning light fall across the keys. My fingers effortlessly run over the keys, forcing my mind onto the scales, the arpeggios, the simple melodies. The rhythm is steady. Predictable. Safe. The opposite of what my heart is doing in my chest

I try to calm the hammering in my chest. Try to pretend nothing is about to erupt. It works, no one is here, and I find myself getting lost in the music …until the door opens.

He’s here. Always here when he shouldn’t be. Always watching, always looming, always measuring. His gaze finds me immediately, sharp and cold, and then it drops down, looking over my inappropriate outfit. I knew the second he saw the tattoo. His eyes locked onto it and froze.

My leg…It was all he saw. I am sure he was having a stroke. Fear rattled my body. The tattoo seems like a terrible idea now. My body felt cold. My fingers stop stroking the keys as if they were frozen. My stomach twists, my chest tightens, and suddenly, the air itself feels like a trap.

“What is that?” His voice is low at first, but the edges are serrated. Angry. Possessive. The kind of anger that has always come before storms. I can’t respond. My mouth goes dry. My hands twitch over the keys, but I’m frozen in place.

“You think… Can you mark yourself?” His voice rises, every syllable snapping the silence into jagged pieces. “You think you can defy me?” I jump from the bench instinctively, pressing back against the piano. He’s not touching me-he never has. He won’t. He knows better.

It’s my mom’s one non-negotiable rule.

He is never allowed to physically hurt us. If he ever lays a hand on one of us, she will leave. He won’t let her go, but she can still leave him emotionally. She’s been balancing on that line for years, giving him only the bare minimum of what remains of her feelings.

Even so, the rage radiating from him fills the room like a living thing, pressing against my chest until the air feels thinner and the walls seem to close in. It happens in a flash. His rage has been building, bubbling under the surface, and now it spills over. He grabs the stool, my piano seat, the one I had been sitting on only seconds ago, and hurls it across the room. It slams into the wall with a violent crack before crashing to the floor, splintering into jagged pieces.

The sound of wood striking marble makes my heart leap into my throat. The echo rings through the room, loud and sharp.

That could have been me on the floor.

Thrown. Broken. Shattered on the floor.

“You will learn your place!” he yells, pacing, hands balled into fists. “You will not do this to me! Do you understand? Do you?” He stops pacing, taking a step closer to me. He wants answers. I shake my head frantically, taking a step back. “Father… please… I… I didn’t-” I start looking for excuses, excuses I know I do not have. I had been aware of the consequences when I did it, and I didn’t care.

“Silence!” The words crash down like a hammer. He storms across the room, his shadow swallowing mine. The air is thick with the weight of him, and I’m small, and I’m trapped.