Nightbird: Book 3 of the Gilded Cage trilogy Read online

  Chapter 9

  Ophelia

  Kain and I were drifting apart, and I was letting it happen.

  Keeping my secrets hidden from him was proving to be more and more difficult, and he reacted with explosive jealousy every time I wanted to be alone, as if he suspected I was hiding things. It was true, after all, but I needed him to trust me.

  This journey involving my father was something I had to do by myself. I didn’t want to involve Kain. I wanted to deal with it myself, finally prove I was able to take care of myself.

  I was always on the lookout for the plague doctor now.

  Every morning, I woke up at the crack of dawn, climbing out of our bed as quietly as I could and heading into the gardens where I was met with birdsong and clear skies. But the doctor was nowhere to be found. He'd disappeared just as suddenly as last time, and now I was on my own.

  It was almost a week after the punishment I'd endured with Kain when I finally saw him again.

  He was waiting for me in the same spot he had the last time—at the hidden passage in the wall.

  Wordlessly, he handed me a letter, then started slowly walking into the forest behind us.

  I opened the envelope with trembling fingers, following in his footsteps while he led me deeper into the woods. This time, the letter was written in my father's handwriting, and I stared at the words on the page, trying to comprehend this was really happening.

  My dear Princess Ophelia, the letter read in Russian.

  It has been a long time since I have seen you, and I must apologize for leaving you so very abruptly.

  It was important to keep up appearances after your eighteenth birthday. I discovered many, many things because of my apparent death. Like the fact that Michael Marino was a snake that needed to be taken out. And that Kain, the boy who stole you, was the scum of the earth who will be eventually punished for his crimes by those he hurt the most.

  But there was no time, no reason to make you aware of me still being alive. You had your own journey to embark on, princess. You needed to discover some things for yourself, and now that you have, I'm happier than ever to bring you back to me.

  I know you have questions. Please know everything will be answered in time.

  But before we see one another again, before we reunite as father and daughter, there is one more task ahead of you, one thing you must do to earn my trust and approval.

  The man who gave you this letter is a prisoner of mine.

  He is one of the employees who allowed the slaughter at your eighteenth birthday party to happen. He is one of the men who betrayed our family. I watched him slit your little brother's throat. He did so without regret, without even thinking about what he was doing. Now, it's time for him to pay the ultimate price for what he's done.

  It's time for the doctor to die.

  You will recognize the man as our family doctor. You will feel for him, wanting to spare his life. In those moments, I only ask you to remember what this monster did to your brother. Remember he's the one who ended a life, and for that, he must pay with his. It is the code we live by, and I need you to carry out the punishment, dear princess.

  After that is done, wait a few days, and we will be reunited again.

  Trust me, Ophelia.

  The doctor will hand you a knife.

  Use it to end him.

  Do not disappoint me.

  Yours,

  Papa

  My fingers shivered as I folded the note and placed it in the pocket of my dress, my eyes following the doctor as he led us back into the clearing where we'd been once before.

  So it was true. My father was alive.

  Yet his note said nothing about Vladislava. I knew I'd have to find out more after I'd carried out my task.

  Even when I was a little girl, my father liked doing this, setting little tasks for his children to prove to him how smart, loyal, and inventive we were. It was child's play then, but now, a man's life was at stake.

  I came to a stop next to the plague doctor, and he handed me a silver knife. One I recognized as the handle was decorated with our family crest, Sokolov interweaved with patterns that made up the blade. It was beautiful. A family heirloom I'd seen before, the one my father had warned me time and time again to leave alone, to never touch. And now, he was trusting me with it. I felt proud of myself, even knowing what would follow.

  I turned the blade over in my hands, wondering whether I'd be able to go through with it. I raised my eyes to the plague doctor, silent and ominous in the mask he was still wearing.

  I pointed the knife at him, aiming for his heart.

  I could feel my own heartbeat picking up just like his was. I was shaking, scared, and sweating as I touched the tip of the blade to his clothes, making a hole in the fabric and touching rough, scarred skin.

  He was scarred beneath those clothes. Was that the reason he wore the mask?

  I was so close to just plunging the knife into his chest and ending it all, but there was something else I needed to do.

  I needed to see the man who'd ruined my life for myself.

  Slowly, I pulled the mask off his face. The robe followed suit, unwrapping from his shoulders and falling to the ground. The plague doctor, now just a man, didn't move an inch as I stared him down, trying to understand his motives for betraying our family.

  "Dr. Ivanov," I whispered.

  He didn't look like himself anymore.

  Someone had done a number on Dr. Ivanov, slashing, cutting, and slicing him until his skin was nothing but a collection of scars, crisscrossing, intertwining with one another to make a terrifying pattern on the man's skin. But his body wasn't the worst; it was his face that was so awfully tormented it almost hurt me to look at him.

  He whimpered while I stared at him, a sign so unusual for the strong man I'd known as a young girl. It startled me.

  "What has he done to you?" I whispered, touching my fingers to his once beautiful face.

  Where there was once stubble and handsome smile lines, now there was just skin roughened by beating and cutting. His lips were cracked, bleeding. I wondered how long it had been since he'd last had a drink. Still, he didn't speak. Just stared at me with that one eye he had left, the other one just a bloody hole in his face.

  My father was a cruel man, but this went beyond what he'd done to any of us. This was cruelty, pure and simple. Destroying a man, keeping him alive just to watch him hurt. I couldn't even look at Dr. Ivanov anymore. It wasn't just what Papa had done to his face and body. It was the look on his face, the silent plea to end his suffering.

  This man wanted me to kill him. He didn't want to live like this anymore, and every second I kept him alive was making his suffering worse and worse.

  "I am so sorry," I whispered. "Will you speak to me, Dr. Ivanov? Will you tell me why you did what you did? Why you betrayed my family?"

  I was grasping at straws, trying to convince myself to forgive the man, let him go without slicing him even further.

  But instead of giving me a response, the doctor opened his mouth wordlessly, and I stared in horror at him.

  My father had cut out his tongue, and the man couldn't speak anymore. Even if he wanted to beg for mercy, he couldn't do it anymore.

  It seemed as if he was going to beg for something else though, and he stared at me with absolute desperation in his eyes.

  He wanted me to kill him.

  He wanted me to end it, to put a stop to his suffering, and I held the power to do it.

  My eyes went to the blade in my hands.

  One single slice would seal his fate. All I had to do was plunge the knife into his chest, or slice his throat open, and his suffering would end.

  But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

  The knife clattered from my hands, hitting the grass and landing at my feet. The doctor stared at the weapon on the ground before turning his gaze to mine. I stared into his remaining eye, begging me to finish his suffering, and I knew I was selfish.

&nb
sp; It was a mercy killing.

  He needed to die because if he didn't, my father would only torture him further.

  "I'm so sorry," I whispered brokenly. "I'm not sure I can do this..."

  The scarred doctor took my hand, squeezing gently and making me look into his eye.

  My father was playing a cruel game with me, threatening that I'd never see him again, and probably Vladislava, too, unless I did as he'd asked of me by ending the doctor's life.

  I had to do it. It was my duty, not just because I needed to avenge my family, not just because I was crazy about Kain and couldn't imagine hurting him for what he'd done to us. I needed to do it because this man had suffered enough. His scars told a story, and it wasn't a pleasant one to look at or listen to. I needed to make sure he was going to a place where he wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

  I had to kill him.

  With our hands clasped, we picked up the blade from the ground, and he helped me position it at his throat. My fingers shook, but the doctor helped keep my hand steady, slowly making an incision on his throat.

  I let out a whimper when blood poured from his neck, but he guided my hand deeper, cutting through muscle and freeing him from his body.

  In his last moments, Dr. Ivanov stared at me with the face of someone who had not only seen the white light but someone who had experienced salvation.

  He fell to his knees, the ground shaking beneath the weight of his sins as he sank down.

  "I'm so sorry," I whispered again. "I'm sorry it had to be this way."

  He offered me a smile, the first one I'd seen from him, even before, when we were both younger. He was blissfully happy in his last moments, knowing he had finally paid for all his wrongdoings and knowing he was going to a better place.

  I stumbled back when his body fell, no trace of the man that used to be in the shell he'd left behind. There was blood everywhere, staining my hands and my dress as I started running back toward the house. The long blades of grass cut up my skin, like tiny paper cuts all over my calves as I made my way back to the house. I felt like I'd never be able to stop running, barely stopping at the wall just so I could walk through the hatch and race toward the house again.

  A pair of strong, capable arms caught me before I could make it another step. He held me close, so tightly I could barely breathe.

  "Dolly, it's okay," he whispered. "You're going to be okay, my beautiful girl. Just calm down. Breathe with me. You're going to be okay. Just breathe."

  I let out a whimper as he cupped my face in his hands, making me look at him.

  "Now, dolly," he said. "Are you ready to tell me what's going on?"

  Chapter 10

  Kain

  "Yes."

  Her answer came in a whisper that would change my life forever. Finally, she was going to reveal what had been going on, what she'd so desperately attempted to hide from me. But I couldn't even focus on the truth finally coming out. Instead, my eyes went to my girl, covered in blood and muddy from the grass outside yet again.

  "Where were you?" I asked through gritted teeth, doing my best to hide my anger and let my empathetic side understand she was going through something difficult. "Were you in the forest, dolly? Are you all right? Did someone hurt you?" My fists tightened at the thought of somebody hurting her, and I ground my teeth together in rage.

  Her shaky hands went around my neck, and she held onto me just like I was holding onto her. "I think I…," she whispered. "Kain, I think I killed somebody."

  I stared at her, trying to decipher whether she was telling the truth. But there was no hint of lies in her eyes or in her voice. She was honest for once, and I needed to get to the bottom of this.

  "Dolly." My voice was urgent with the need to take care of her. "Would you be able to find the spot in the forest where this happened?"

  She nodded, not seeming convinced but willing to make an effort.

  "Are you hurt?" I asked her again, and she shook her head. "Okay. Let me gather some men, and I'll send them into the forest. And I'll get you all washed up and clean, okay, dolly? After that, you can tell me whatever you want. I won't get mad. You can talk to me about anything. You know that, don't you, dolly?"

  Another nod.

  I held her close while I sent off an alarm sounding off throughout the house. In moments, the living room was full of men holding their weapons, and Ophelia whimpered in fear.

  "Nothing to be afraid of," I told her. "They're going to go look in the forest, okay, dolly? How did you get through the wall? Did you climb over it?"

  "N-No," she managed to get out. "Someone s-showed me the way. There was a hatch in the wall. Hidden."

  "Who?" My breath grew faster as I got angrier and angrier. "Who showed you the way, dolly?"

  "A man," she said. "A man dressed up as a plague doctor."

  She looked at me, begging me to understand. I didn't know what to say, so I just looked at my men, barking orders at them.

  "Follow the wall until you find the hidden hatch. Then bring me back the man she's talking about."

  They left the room, heading out into the gardens with their guns poised to shoot. I shifted my attention back to Ophelia.

  She was still shaking, her eyes wide with fear as I got us both on the couch, pulling a soft faux fur throw over her trembling body. She nestled against me, and I tucked her in as gently as I possibly could. The blanket became stained with the blood that was still on her clothes, but I didn't give a damn about that. I just needed to make sure she was okay and find out whether there was anyone in those woods we could help.

  I needed her to feel safe so she could tell me more about what was going on. Only then would I be able to help her.

  "Dolly," I said softly. "Who was this man?"

  "A doctor," she muttered, burrowing her head in the crook of my arm.

  "Yes, a plague doctor," I said, trying to be patient.

  "N-No," she stuttered, her eyes going to mine. "Not just that. He was a doctor, before… before it a-all happened."

  "A doctor?" I raised my brows at her. "You used to know him?"

  She nodded, toying with the throw and nervously looking up at me. "He worked with you, I think," she finally admitted. "I think my father… my papa caught him after my eighteenth birthday. Kain, I… I don't think my father's dead."

  This only confirmed the suspicions I'd had for a while now, coupled with the research my men and I had been doing to find Vladimir.

  "Okay, dolly," I said kindly. "So the doctor. He was your family doctor. You… you don't mean Dr. Ivanov, do you?"

  She looked up at me, and her gaze told me everything. I cursed. "I knew him," I told her plainly. "He worked with us to bring your father down. Except—"

  "It didn't w-work," Ophelia finished for me. "He's alive, and he's been keeping Dr. Ivanov prisoner."

  "He attempted to contact you?" I asked her, and she nodded.

  I forced myself to take deep calming breaths, convincing myself I didn't need to lose my head just yet. I needed to listen to my dolly and find out what exactly had happened in those woods.

  "You've seen him?" I asked next. "Is that what you've been keeping from me?"

  "N-No," she managed. "He's been sending me messages… in the wall, in my poetry book. Little notes, even a letter from Mamochka. I thought I was going crazy. Those messages, they kept disappearing when I tried to show you."

  It sounded to me like Vladimir had a man on the inside, someone working in our house to make sure my dolly was even more confused.

  "Okay," I nodded. "So you haven't seen him yet? That's good, dolly. I don't want you to see him alone."

  This seemed to upset her. She stirred in my arms and gave me an accusatory glance.

  "Why can't I see him by myself?" she asked, and I rubbed my temples. "He's my papa, after all. I think I should be allowed to see my family, what I have left of it."

  She didn't finish the sentence, but the words spoke for themselves. She blamed me for losing everyone she'd eve
r loved, and I couldn't hold it against her. It was my fault she was an orphan. My fault she was all alone in the world, save for a father who only wanted to use her as a weapon since she was a little girl. She was nothing but a pawn to her papa. A piece in a chess game he wanted to win whatever the hell it took.

  "Because I don't think he's good for you," I told her, trying to let her down easy. "Because you're too trusting. Because I'm afraid you never knew the man I saw when I looked at him."

  "You m-met him before?" she asked, and I looked away, remembering my first meeting with Vladimir Sokolov, when he'd slapped my face, knocked me right out.

  "Just a few times," I brushed it off. "It doesn't matter, dolly. What matters is that we need to trust each other. Do you understand?"

  "Yes." Her voice was faint, but she let me hold her closer, pull all her weight on top of my lap and bury my nose in her hair. Grapefruit. She always smelled like grapefruit, and somehow, slowly, the scent had become hers, not mine. It no longer reminded me of my family, but instead lazy mornings with her, of pulling her against me and smelling the citrusy tang of her lotion, perfume, and shampoo. She was erasing all the bad memories her father had put into my head, replacing them with sweetness, kindness, and love like I'd never known them before.

  I was in love with her, head over heels.

  But I wasn't sure she still felt the same, especially with the weight of her lies hanging above us. It was hard to accept that she felt that way for me when she found it necessary to keep the truth from me in the first place.

  "Let's get you washed up," I said, and she allowed me to pick her up and help her to the bathroom.

  I watched the white and gray marble turn pink as I showered her shivering body, washing away the blood from every inch of her. I washed her hair, too. Gently massaging her scalp and kissing her eyelids while she stood with her front pressed to mine, I loved every second of treating her like a real dolly.

  Once she was all cleaned up, I got her out of the marble shower and wrapped her up in a huge terrycloth robe, with her hair piled on top of her head and wrapped in a towel turban.