Page 62 of The Sins of Silas (The Otacian Chronicles #2)

Chapter Sixty-Two

SILAS - FIVE YEARS AGO

T he beating last night was especially gruesome—the whip splitting open my partially healed wounds.

We had infiltrated a small camp, a camp of witches, and I had frozen with my sword lifted to a woman clinging to a young child. I stood there as one of the older soldiers crept forward, plunging his sword into her chest and ripping the child from her corpse's arms.

“Show no emotion, show no mercy, or you will be beaten again.”

I didn't know how to do it. How could I ever be like him? I hated witches, believed them to be evil, but the desperation in that woman's eyes…in her child's…

“They are monsters. It was just an act, and you fell for it like the fool you are.”

It was almost impossible to go through the motions during training without crying out in agony. But no one could know of my beatings .

No one can know.

I rotated my hands, staring at how rough they’d become in the last few months. The skin on them was still primarily smooth, but I imagined it wouldn't last.

Maybe once the beatings were done, I could get inked. Perhaps I’d be able to hide all my scars with art one day. The thought of anyone seeing my back humiliated me, though.

I rested outside against the castle wall, Edmund and Hendry throwing me concerned looks. I waved them off, and they shrugged, wandering away.

I hated being distant from them, the only friends I had left. But what was I to talk about? They would notice something was off, and I didn’t want to speak about it.

A slight drizzle began, and I sighed, tipping my head up to allow the droplets to pepper my face.

I hated this life. The only thing keeping me going was ridding the world from the evil that took the two most important people away from me. And it turns out I fucking sucked at it.

When I opened my eyes, nearly all our soldiers had dispersed from practice, all except for Roland Aubeze, who was staring at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him, the rain just beginning to dampen his hair. I deepened my glare when he started to walk over, but he seemed determined, as his expression remained strong.

He stopped in front of me, his eyes cast downward to meet my glare. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“What do you want?” I muttered.

His jaw snapped shut, but just for a second. His arms slacked at his sides. “Look, I know you’ve gone through some awful things,” he began, and I tightened my fists. “I know it hurts. But use that pain and turn it into something meaningful.” His nose wrinkled as he grimaced at me. “Sulking like this won’t do shit.”

My mouth fell open. In all the years I’d known Roland, he had hardly uttered a word to me, too intimidated by my title. He was close with Edmund and Hendry but never showed his authentic or playful side to me.

Nor whatever this side was.

“I am not sulking,” I snapped.

He crossed his arms, a half-smile pulling on his lips. “This is the definition of sulking, Silas.”

Sulking…

I wanted to be angry at his disrespect, but he had no idea the torture I was enduring behind the scenes. It had only been three months since Mother and Lena had died…and nearly three months of constant lashings. My back burned so fucking badly right now.

Use that pain and turn it into something meaningful.

Thunder roared in the distance, the rain picking up. It soaked his brown hair, but he remained planted where he was.

“What meaningful thing would you suggest I do?” I asked him, leaning my head against the wall.

His hazel eyes trailed over me, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. You got any hobbies?”

I raised a brow. “Hobbies?”

“Yeah, surely the Prince has time to have fun every now and again?”

I thought about it. I couldn't even remember the last time I had fun. I really only did when I was with Lena.

Roland’s smile fell when he noticed me struggling to name one single hobby. “You like music?”

I scoffed. “Everyone likes music. ”

Roland chuckled. “I play piano down at Hidden Rhythm. You should come. Tonight.”

I frowned. That lounge was located in the Inner Ring. Now that I had freedom, I could go.

“See you there?” he prodded.

I blinked. “I'll consider it,” I mumbled.

His smile grew, and he inclined his drenched face, heading inside the castle.

Roland sat at the piano at Hidden Rhythm later that night. I almost didn't come, but his words compelled me. I dressed in more casual clothes, a hat over my head in the hopes of being unrecognized. Had I left out the castle's front doors, guards would've followed me. But today, I decided to use the pathway I'd taken to see Lena so many times before.

I felt sick the whole walk here thinking of her.

People all around the lounge began to quiet their mumbling as Roland's tanned hands trailed over the keys, his eyes fluttering shut. He was still for only a moment before his fingers began dancing along the white and black.

The song was beautiful, so much so that chills spread across my body once the tune began. Roland wore a faint smile as he played, eyes occasionally glancing up at his sheet music.

He was actually pretty damn good.

It was so complex, the beat picking up, but he didn’t miss a single note. It was…melancholic, somehow, the song he played.

The next was upbeat, his hands moving so fast the crowd roared when he completed the melody. Song after song played, and somehow, a half hour had flown by.

A woman stood on stage, getting ready to announce the next performer as Roland stepped off. “Next up, Novalie Briar will be singing ‘Loveless’.”

The crowd cheered in excitement just as Roland's eyes found me.

“You came!” he exclaimed as he strolled up to me, a giant grin on his face. “Well, what did you think?”

“It was amazing,” I admitted. “I had no idea you had such talent.”

I didn't miss his cheeks slightly flushing. “Thanks, man.” His eyes darted around the room. “I'm surprised no one has recognized you.”

I laughed softly. “I'm a master at disguise.”

He chuckled, his gaze sliding back to me. “Apparently so.”

“Who taught you?”

“My mother,” he voiced proudly, adjusting the bag containing his sheet music on his shoulder. “She insisted that my sisters and I have at least one talent. I was always drawn to music.”

I nodded, crossing my arms, eyes flitting around the place. “Perhaps you could teach me.”

He blinked in surprise, his grin growing. “I’d like that. For tons of gold, of course,” he teased.

I snorted. “Sure.”

As we headed out, I spoke again. “Hey.”

Roland turned to me with a quirked brow.

“Thank you. You’ve helped me more than you know. ”

He gave a reserved smile, and when he went to turn away, I grasped his arm.

“Always be real with me, okay?” I insisted. “I…I need some authenticity in my life.”

The corners of his lips raised. “Always.”

One week later.

“Wow.” Roland cringed as he listened to me attempt to play the piano in my room. I had purchased one the following day after seeing him perform. “Turns out the Prince is not good at everything.”

I scowled at him. “I never said I was good at everything.” I tried playing the notes again and groaned when I messed up. “I don’t think I’m artistically gifted,” I muttered.

“It takes practice. I was this bad once before. When I was four.”

I shoved his shoulder playfully, and he snickered.

“Remembering which notes are which takes time,” he said from his seat beside me on the bench. “But with daily practice, I'm sure you'll grasp it eventually.”

I began the “easy” song, as Roland had called it, and sighed after I completed the first part correctly, only to mess up the second.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, causing me to wince. He quickly removed it.

He didn't know my wince was due to the new wounds I'd gotten the night before.

“Don't give up,” he encouraged, rubbing the back of his head. “You'll get the hang of it.”

Two and a half months later.

Months went by, and while every beating threatened to turn me into a monster, Roland’s goofy personality and our music lessons made me feel again, even if only for a little bit. I had grown even closer to him than I had with Edmund and Hendry.

“Wow. I take back what I said about you not being good at everything,” he praised after I finished playing a song. “In just a few short months, you’ve improved dramatically.”

“Honestly, it’s all I’ve been doing in my free time.” I chewed at my lip. “I loathe being around my father, and other than the training and royal duties, I’ve been practicing.”

“You hate your Dad?”

Yes.

I sighed, standing from the piano bench and walking to my bed. “He’s just…nothing like my Mother was.” I sat on my mattress, resting my elbows on my knees.

“No kidding,” Roland said, standing and striding over to sit beside me. He crossed his arms. “I hardly saw him in training, but now, seeing how he instructs us on the field, I realize just how brutal he is.” He paused. “Especially with how he talks to you,” he added softly.

“He’s always been that way. Well, he was less harsh when I was a boy.”

I could sense Roland’s eyes drift over to me as I stared ahead. “Does he hurt you?”

My eyes shot wide, and I spun my head toward him .

Did he somehow see my back?!

“What makes you ask that?” I asked, attempting to appear unaffected by his question.

His jaw clicked. “He just seems the type.”

I laughed through my nose, eyes falling back to the ground. “Don't worry about me.”

“Well…I do. I hope you have someone here that sticks up for you,” he said quietly.

I gave him a soft smile that I knew didn’t reach my eyes. The truth was no one stuck up for me. Not anymore.

I was aware of his thigh pressing against mine as he continued, “You want me to be real with you, yes?”

I nodded, my brows drawing together. “Always.”

His fingers nervously drummed along his thighs. I had no time to react as his eyes fell to my lips, and he leaned forward and kissed me.

My instant reaction was to shove him away, so I did.

My eyes were blown wide, as was Roland’s, his cheeks tinted pink. I remained gaping at him.

I’d never been attracted to men before. The thought had never crossed my mind.

But human connection…touch. I missed it.

And I was lonely, so fucking lonely that I’d give anything to have a moment where I wasn’t dwelling on the past…thinking of her .

So, I found myself grasping his jaw and pulling his lips back to mine.

Our kisses were slow for only a moment before I pushed him down against my bed. I hovered over him, kissing him hungrily, my tongue teasing his as his hands ran through my hair .

Who am I? What am I doing?

At that moment, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be me anymore. I didn’t want to be a prince. I didn’t want to be a son.

I didn't want to be Silas.

I wanted to be touched in a way that was loving. That was soft. I wanted to feel pleasure again. I wanted to feel again.

He tasted like mint and sweet tea—like that drink he'd always order when we went to Hidden Rhythm.

I grunted against his mouth as his hand trailed down to my erection. I broke our kiss, our eyes expansive, chests rising and falling as we took each other in.

He was touching me. No one but Lena had ever touched me.

She died only a few months ago, yet here I was, being intimate with someone else.

But it didn’t matter, did it? She was fucking gone.

War was waging in my mind, and I was unsure if I could follow through with this. Roland leaned up, kissing my lips gently just as the door to my room flung open.

I hadn't bothered locking it, never expecting to have been in this situation.

My head whirled in that direction, my stomach sinking as I tumbled off of Roland.

My father’s eyes flared, his fists clenching hard. They were trembling as he turned his expression to Roland, who fearfully sat up in bed.

“So, this is why you insisted on defending him last year.”

It wasn’t like that at all. Yes, he was being attacked for his presumed sexuality. But I did it because his treatment wasn’t right, not out of feelings for him .

My father charged toward Roland, but I shot off the bed, blocking his path.

“It’s not his fault,” I insisted. “I initiated. I-I gave him no choice.”

“Silas—” Roland began.

“How long?” the King demanded.

“This was the first time.” I trembled. “I swear it on Mother’s grave.”

Ulric’s gaze was the most frightful thing I’d ever seen. He turned his attention back to Roland, who was shaking.

“I never want to see your face again. Get out.”

I could feel Roland’s gaze on me, but I kept eye contact with my father.

“OUT!” the King shouted, and Roland quickly fled the room.

When he was gone, my father's vicious glare found mine. “You fancy men, huh?”

“No.” I shook my head, willing my tears to stay put. “I don’t.”

“His hand was on your cock,” Ulric spat.

I inhaled sharply. I didn’t even know what to say.

“I…I’m just confused,” I whispered.

“You disgust me. You've been nothing but a failure in everything you do. And now you show me you're a faggot too.”

He grasped my arm, pulling me out of the room.

I was just beaten last night. This was going to be so very painful.

I sucked in my lips, my breathing uneven, my throat burning.

Bringing me to one of the extra bedrooms in the castle, my father locked me in there, leaving without a word. I slowly seated myself on the bed, dreading his return.

Don't cry. Don't cry .

Roland should hopefully be off the hook, at least. I could only hope the King believed what I had said.

A few minutes later, my father reentered the room, chains in his hand.

“Take off your shirt and lie on the bed.”

I swallowed, then slowly began unbuttoning my top.

I was getting beaten again. I knew this now. Normally, I'd be kneeling on the ground for my punishment, though, not lying on my back.

My stomach fell. Perhaps the beatings will be on my chest now.

I hesitantly did as he said, lying down on the bed, my crusted skin resting against the comforter.

Ulric secured my limbs to the bedposts with the chains. When he was done, he went to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” I asked nervously.

My father’s eyes held no emotion. “To get your punishment.”

And then he left, leaving me restrained to the bed in the eerie silence. My eyes stung as I stared at the ceiling. Yes, he must be having my front side whipped now, too.

Why did he hate me so much? Why did he wish to harm me?

Several minutes later, and my head turned at the clicking sound of the door lock.

Three men I had never seen before strolled in. One was lanky, with a long mustache and thinning hair. Another big, burly, and bald, his eyes so dark they looked like depthless pits.

The last one appeared more normal, I supposed. Brown hair, brown eyes, and average stature.

But they all shared one thing in common. They studied me like I was their prey .

My eyes darted around, noting no weapons of torture in their hands.

“Are you going to whip me?” I asked quietly.

Father had always been the one giving me my punishments. Who were these men?

The scrawny one tilted his head, letting out a grating laugh as he replied, “Only if you ask.”

My heartbeat quickened as they stepped forward, and I nervously tugged at the chains securing me to the bed.

What is happening?

“He’s already showing emotion,” the big one said, a sinister smile spreading across his face. “Which means we’ll have another round with him.”

“W-what are you going to do to me?” I whispered.

I shivered in disgust when the average one dragged his fingertips up my bare torso.

No.

He wouldn't.

He wouldn’t have this done to me.

The man bent down to whisper in my ear. “Your father says you’ve been naughty, Your Highness, and so we get to have our way with you.”

No.

No, no, no, no!

The scrawny one gripped me through my pants, and I thrashed, desperate to escape.

It was no use. I was fucking trapped.

“Please!” I cried, tears spilling down my face. “Please don’t do this! Father! ”

The bald one unbuckled his pants, exposing himself as he began to stroke. The average one stood back and watched as the scrawny one pulled down my trousers.

I thrashed again, wailing as I tried with all my might to avoid what they were going to do to me.

“He’s soft,” the big one complained. “The King said he was into this.”

“He’ll get there.”

“Put him in your mouth.”

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” I screamed. “FATHER!”

But the men only laughed at my screams, my pleas. And they went ahead and raped me anyway.