Caught in the Fox’s Teeth

Chapter 2: Taryn

When I enter our… I mean, my home, Bowen’s man is there to take my sopping cloak from me. A heavy weight is both figuratively and physically pulled from my shoulders. He takes off my muddied boots, offering me warm, fur lined slippers in exchange. All I want to do is head to bed and sleep the week away. I start to head up the stairs when a voice rings out from the dining hall. “Taryn.” It’s only my name, but it’s enough to ruffle my feathers and set me on edge. I look to Ullo. He averts his gaze, his eyes clearly bloodshot from hidden tears cried alone. “Taryn, love. Come!” Dryndenn calls for me as if calling for a well-trained b***h. Perhaps that’s all I am to him. I hiss a curse under my breath and risk a look back at Aggy. I pray she gives me the strength I need to slip up the stairs and out of my father’s earshot. Maybe I can just slink up to my room— “Taryn! Girl! Don’t act as if you can’t hear me! I’ve got something for you.” Another sigh sneaks past my lips.

“You better go, Miss. You know he doesn’t like to wait.” Aggy whispers. Damn her. I was hoping she would give me the courage to stomp up these gods damned stairs so I could lock myself away in my barren room. Instead, being the dutiful daughter I am, I resign myself to my fate and head back towards the dining hall to meet my bastard father-in-law.

I was wrong when I envisioned Dryndenn sitting in his son’s seat. Instead, my father-in-law sits in my favorite chair, warming himself with one of his young mistresses curled up in his lap as he toys with a strand of hair that’s escaped her scarf. His cloak bone-dry and wrapped around him and his woman. The girl giggles politely at the sweet nothings he spews into her ear while his lady wife stares daggers at the young woman who has captured her husband’s eye for the time being. For that’s all this is, a passing fancy that he can play with until he no doubt sires a bastard on her and then tosses her out for another unfortunate and naïve girl.

My Lady Mother leers with envy at the younger woman’s taught stomach. A stomach that has seen no children birthed. Breasts that are high and tight. How she seethes at the thought of her husband fondling and suckling at such untried breasts while her own has nursed five of his children. Poor woman. I can’t help but feel pity for her. Gods. How easily I could have been trapped in such a life. Bowen could have been like his father. The thought is enough to turn my raw stomach into even tighter knots. Her weary eyes meet mine and then they dull further. She turns her gaze to something in her cup. She swirls whatever spirit she has decided to lose herself in, shame in her eyes. Lady Elzbith is normally a proud woman, but today she exudes none of her pride here. Not today.

Dryndenn halts his canoodling as his eyes wander to me. “Taryn.” He grunts. I walk past him and straight to Elzbith. I kiss her hand and curtsy. I’m well aware of my obvious snub of my master and lord but honestly he can f**k off to the abyss too. How dare he come to my home with a w***e in his lap instead of at his son’s funeral. He deserves to be snubbed. “Girl. You test my patience. You come when you’re called as a well-behaved woman and wife does.” Perhaps he doesn’t know that I am no longer a wife. The silent dig only served to make me feel worse. I’ve sabotaged myself as I stare at High Lord Vulpin with swollen eyes.

“You better go to him, daughter. He’s in one of his moods.” Elzbith whispers, patting my hand.

When I don’t move fast enough, my lord growls. “Leave us.” He shoves the young woman writhing in his lap onto the ground. “All of you. I wish to speak with my ungrateful daughter alone.”

The room clears of servants quickly but Elzbith stays. Dryndenn fixes her in his sights, “did you not hear me wife? I’ve business with our daughter. Go.” Elzbith looks like she’s been struck. Somehow this slight is worse than having to watch her husband pawing at a younger woman. Regardless of the slight, Elzbith clenches her jaw and nods. Picking up her now almost empty glass, she swishes her skirts and walks from the room. Dryndenn stands, knees cracking he stretches with a groan and begins his approach. “I’m not your daughter.” I growl back at him in response to his pet name but my words don’t have the desired effect. I don’t know what I expected. Did I think he would tremble in fear? The thought is almost laughable.

Dryndenn tips my chin up to his imposing height. A gust of air comes rushing from his flared nostrils. The smell of whiskey is thick on his breath. “Careful girl.” His voice is deadly quiet. “If you’re not my daughter then it would not matter if I were to bend you over your own dining table and find out for myself what has my son so enraptured with you.” My stomach lurches. The mention of his son and our love in the present tense makes me giddy while the threat makes me ill. I feel a rush of panic. I’d like to think he’s bluffing but the man is a pig. “Hmm. That’s what I thought.” He purrs when I avert my gaze. “Tell me then, daughter. Did my son sow his seed in your belly before he got himself killed?” Dryndenn pours himself more whiskey and sits back down, beckoning me closer to him.

My jaw drops. I gawk at the brute before me but my words fail me. Dryndenn rolls his eyes. “Are you deaf, girl? Did he breed you yet?” What the f**k? What kind of question is that?! Instead of screaming as I want to, I just shake my head shamefully and stare at my slippered feet. As if it is my fault I am not pregnant yet. My lord makes a non-committal noise. “I thought as much. Come. Have a seat. We have much to discuss.” I balk at the request. I don’t like where this is going. Dryndenn generously offers me a cup of the whiskey from his son’s reserves. “Drink.” He holds up his glass in a toast but there’s no joy in it. Whatever we are drinking to is not something I will like but I drink any way. I want to be numb for this conversation.

Dryndenn drains his glass and pours another. The man can certainly hold his drink well. Gods. “Do you know many of our customs girl? Do you know what is expected of you now?” His eyes appear almost black in the dim light.

“No, my lord.” I speak meekly. He likes his women to be compliant and demure. I try to embody that for him now as it will win me his favor and hopefully send him on his way all the quicker. I hope he will take pity on me so I can get away from this beast. There is no love lost between my false father and I.