My father’s had enough of giving up control, so he discreetly elbows me out of the way, taking over, as is his nature. “The Valentine family is doing what the royal family will not. We are housing, feeding and clothing nearly five-hundred innocents. We are even housing the king’s only son, since Regis has turned his back so heartlessly on his own kin.”
One of the reporters goes for the obvious kill. “You sent your own daughter to prison in your stead. Who are you to talk about loyalty? You’re one of the criminals who cashed in on the Sins of the Father bill.”
Solid point, and to his credit, Father’s ears don’t even redden. He’s prepared for this question, since I’m guessing he gets it a lot.
Good.
His smile is faked, but no one notices the tell. “From the moment my Arlanna took my place, it’s been our family’s mission to get her out. It’s always been our plan to overthrow the Sins of the Father bill. We’ve been hard at work, exposing the system for what it is. Sometimes you can’t overthrow a corrupt system from the outside. You need a man on the inside. Or a woman, as it may be. We will not stop until the Sins of the Father bill is abolished.”
What a pile of lies that is. Even Sloan tightens up. My best friend’s arm curves around my shoulders. “You don’t need to hear this. Let’s get out of here.”
“You read my mind.”
I inadvertently steal the spotlight with my exit, making it clear that I don’t want to hear any part of my father’s excuses for his selfish behavior.
Still, Father does what he can to control the narrative. “I visited my poor daughter, hoping to find a new way to get her out of there. The ease of prison life we were all sold on turned out not to be true at all. My heart broke when I saw my princess in the orange jumpsuit.”
That’s it. I can endure a lot. I know my role is to stand where I’m told and speak as I’m instructed. But this, I cannot handle.
I’ve found my voice, and I cannot turn it off now.
I spin on my stiletto and march right back up the steps, elbowing my father out of the way just as rudely as he dismissed me from my speech. “If any of you are buying that load of rubbish, then King Regis can have you!”
I ignore the laughter from the reporters, the wide eyes of the onlookers, and the guffaw of my father. I grip the podium as if I’m afraid I might be uprooted from the spot, which I know it very well might come to.
“The truth is that my father made a series of poor choices. He committed a crime, to start with. Not me. Him. Then he was caught in the crime.” I turn and lock eyes with my father. “A rookie mistake.”
This earns me a few whistles for standing up to the old man. Everyone has a healthy fear of him, but I refuse to lump myself in that category any longer.
“Then he shuffled the responsibility onto me. What the great Conan Valentine means to say is that he’s sorry. Me breaking free wasn’t part of some master plan of his to discredit the Sins of the Father bill. My father should be telling you all that he’s sorry he was too cowardly to take responsibility for the wrong he’s done. Repenting is the only true catalyst for change. Otherwise, we prattle on in different outfits, pretending things are different, when we are still the same snakes we’ve always been.”
I turn to the people, aiming my speech directly at the cameras. “I forgive my father for his selfishness. I forgive him for visiting me twice in the half a year I was locked up. I forgive him for pretending this revolution was his idea.”
His face is red as I look over at him, but I don’t care. “I forgive you for your sins that rained down on my head, Daddy. I always have.”
I’ve left him completely stunned, which is a difficult thing to accomplish. The great Conan Valentine is always fifteen steps ahead, so catching him by surprise is a feat not many live to brag about. And I have video footage to prove it.
I steady my voice as I focus my words on the crowd. “Everyone in my camp forgives you all for your silence. We forgive you for accepting that the horrible things in this world aren’t worth the fight it takes to change them. We forgive you for turning your backs on us. We will not carry around resentment or hatred, because we are done being imprisoned. And as for all of you: guilt is a useless emotion. Take any self-loathing and turn it into helpfulness.” I collect myself and nod once. “Contractors and clothing. I’ll be back in a week to ask for more aid from you all. Thank you for helping us rebuild. We’re just getting started.”
A Solid Foundation
Arlanna
I can barely remember my life before Prigham’s. Every morning when I wake up, I live in a constant state of either gratitude or planning. The entire day is spent in constant motion, which keeps me from feeling like my to-do list might crush me under its ever-expanding weight.
“If we can pull in a few more bodies, we can get this foundation poured by the time the last of the sunset goes away.”
I can tell this is not what the contractor wants to hear, but he swallows his smart retort and directs the makeshift crew how best to get the job going quicker without sacrificing quality.
Barry is one of my most solid volunteers. He runs a construction company, and offered to drive his equipment over, operate it all for us, if only we could supply the grunt work and the raw materials. It’s a fantastic deal, because hiring him outright would absolutely crush our forward momentum. I only have so many pairs of stilettos to sell to fund this place.
There are loads of ex-cons with smoothing rakes (I forget the fancy name they have), and one even has his hi-lo license, which isn’t completely applicable to a cement-pouring machine, but Barry doesn’t mind investing in our learning curve, and we don’t mind the manual labor.
My work gloves are heavy with wet concrete, but they get the job done as I stir the cement as best I can so nothing dries prematurely. The cement mixing truck had to be returned to Barry’s lot an hour ago, so it’s just me and my stick.
Until it’s Malrick and my stick. “I got this. I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you sit down all day.”
It’s hard not to sneer at Malrick, but I manage composure. Sure, he made my life at Prigham’s miserable, but I’m not about to stoop to that level, just because the odds have turned in my favor.
I will not let Prigham’s change me into something I was never meant to become. I am too beautiful to be bitter. I’m too purpose-driven to be haunted by the flaws of the past.
“Thank you,” I manage, while Everly Ann yips at Malrick for being too near me. Good dog. “It needs constant stirring until Barry’s ready to use it.”
“On it, Captain.” Malrick salutes me with actual sincerity, and stirs exactly how Barry taught us.
Half a smile finds my face every time the campers call me that. The nickname started last week, and I’ve taken a liking to it. If I get to be their captain, then I’m not going to take for granted that I have a fantastic crew. They’re the hardest working people I’ve ever met, so I bounce toward grateful before getting distracted by how much I loathe Malrick, and all the people who sank to the lowest of the low.
Hurting people hurt people. That doesn’t make it okay, but I don’t want to repay his wickedness with a dose of my own. The cycle of abuse has to stop somewhere. I have to find a way to rise above it all, even if the best I can do is be civil.