WARNING: Contains child abuse near the very end. It isn't terribly graphic, but enough that you get the picture. Don't read that part if you can't stand that kind of thing.---------
Aulava and Tiiro immediately jerked away from each other, jolted into reality by Lord Starellon's thundering bellow. They simultaneously swiped their sleeves along their mouths guiltily, wiping away the chocolate smears.
It bears repeating that Aulava's father did not sound very happy.
The next few seconds were a blur as the young couple was dragged into the sitting room.
"Sit," Lord Starellon ordered Aulava. She did so. Tiiro was about to sit down too, but a strangled, wordless growl from Aulava's father warned him it was not a good idea.
Lord Starellon opened his mouth, no doubt to let loose the torrents of his rage, but was delayed by the arrival of his wife.
Lady Starellon was a petite woman, slight in stature and slender in build. Her hair was elegantly pulled into a bun of curls atop her head. A few chestnut ringlets escaped and framed a pair of soft brown eyes.
Her husband starkly contrasted her in that he was chubby, with very pale hair (where he wasn't bald) that made his currently red face stand out even more than its usual pink tinge did. His eyes were small, blue, and very calculating.
"Fenella is in her room," Lady Starellon told her husband quietly. She glanced at Tiiro and did a double take, but said nothing after seeing her husband's bright red face.
"Do you know what your daughter was doing on our front porch, Camilla?"
"No, but judging from the fact that there is a Memokar present and he is not sitting down, I can probably guess," Camilla Starellon said carefully. "I will be very disappointed if my suspicions are correct."
"As I'm sure they are," Lord Starellon finished coldly. "Your daughter, Camilla, was . . . was . . ."
"I see," Camilla said sadly, and nodded to her husband.
"Tiiro, is it? You will leave now. Do not come near this family again," Lord Starellon commanded. "My daughters want nothing to do with you."
Tiiro, wide-eyed, glanced at Aulava. She was shaking her head slightly, willing him to know it was not true. She was not crying.
Of course, his mind said. Your Aulava is too strong to cry.
But before he turned to go, she stood up, took a deep breath, and began to speak.
"I do want something to do with Tiiro," Aulava said determinedly. "Tiiro Memokar is a very courageous person. No one knows because no one thinks to look past the shy student, the midnight thief, or the shy teenager. I know. It took me eighteen years. But now I have, and Tiiro's shown his bravery. He saved my life.
"Yes," she said with a giddy laugh, charging on recklessly. "Your eldest daughter, your heiress to the Starellon line and fortune, would not even be alive if a Memokar hadn't loved me enough to stop those who tried to kill me." She laughed again, almost a shriek of hysteria. "Twice." Aulava took another breath, shuddering slightly. "I know you're going to forbid me to see Tiiro again, so I have only a few words for Tiiro himself. I love you, Tiiro." She locked his eyes with hers, and her last words were barely audible. "So don't forget me."
"I . . ." Tiiro started, but Lord Starellon, furious at Aulava's speech, stood up and dragged Tiiro Memokar out.
Aulava ran to her room and finally, finally succumbed to her tears.
---
A knock sounded on the door some time later.
"Go away, father," Aulava snapped. "I do not wish to speak with you."
The door opened to admit Lord Starellon, still red in the face. "You have embarrassed me, Aulava. In front of my rival's son. That little speech you made will be heard from town criers by this time tomorrow. This will ruin me, and my business."
Aulava sighed disgusted and sat up on her bed, glaring at him. "I can't believe you. Your daughter would not even be alive if Tiiro Memokar had not saved me. You would have no heir. And you're worried about your business being ruined?!"
Lord Starellon's face hardened. "Fenella Starellon is my heir, and you are no daughter of mine."
---
Tiiro's mother was waiting for him when he got home. Gossip among the nobles spread like wildfire, and in the short time it took to walk to the Memokar estate, most of Athkatla knew about the two young nobles and their doomed relationship.
"Is it true, Tiiro?" Lady Memokar asked in a hushed voice. "You've bedded a Starellon?"
Tiiro's mouth dropped open in shock, and he started to laugh.
"What, pray tell, is funny about this?" his mother asked sharply. "Your father is inside. He will beat some sense into you. We can only hope he will, at least."
Tiiro's laughter stopped abruptly as his breath was sucked out of him in a whoosh. He crossed the threshold, and his heart seemed to have been injected with ice. He dreaded what awaited him inside.
---
A sharp smack echoed in the almost barren entry-hall. Tiiro winced slightly and reached to touch his eye. His father picked up the studded belt and ordered him to take off his shirt.
"No son of mine would cavort about the city getting rich by stealing from his betters!"
Whip.
"No son of mine would kill a man!"
Whip.
"And no son of mine would ever associate with a Starellon!"
Whip, whip, whip.
"You are no son of mine."
Footsteps echoed on the polished marble floor, sharp, crisp, and harsh like their owner.
Tiiro moaned only when his father was out of earshot, as the searing blood seeped onto the floor from his wounds.
