Carlotta B - Audiobook Narration (English with Italian Accent)
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EnglishAccents
Italian (General) North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
one day at the turn of winter as the cold meat its first advances into the castle. I sat alone at Father's desk, working on a scrap of metal is drawing paper with a stick of charcoal from the kitchen fire. I wrote out rules for my subjects, my hands much black, my mind burning with the bright frenzy of creating a kingdom. The scrape of a foot against stone pulled my attention up from the papers and father's desk. Been Yama stood on the threshold, watching me. What are you playing? Field oughta? He asked. Nothing. He'll hurt us, the magic whispered. Stop him. Not now, I whispered hotly to the magic. Are you talking in church words? Been ama last. You wish to be a priest and a king isn't one stupid dream enough to fill your day? You know you can't rule anything, don't you, Ben? You asked, his voice burning low and study. He waited for me to give an answer that he could transform into the proper punishment. I wondered what a queen would do. This is my kingdom, I said in an ironclad whisper. Yours? What if it's invaded Binyam across the room swiftly things were moving now and I could not slow them, could not stop them. I locked my legs around the posts of the chair, edges biting through my stockings and into my skin. Then Yama pushed me, toppling the black walnut throne. I rolled free and banana kicked me in the chest ones. Twice, I curled around the broken feeling, gathering the pieces. It wasn't safe to cry out. Been Yamma would enjoy it too much. He would kick me harder to hear me shout again. I watched from my place on the floor as his boots strode toward the crown of violets that had fallen from my hair. Then you almost smashed the deeply blue flowers beneath his heel. I had spent hours on the mountainside, picking the ones with perfect cups of black in the centre. You have been unseated, Sister Ben, you almost said, laughing as he dropped the ruined crown back on my head. He stepped back and studied me with a flat expression. I'm only preparing you for the rest of your life. You should kneel and thank me. I must not have acted quickly enough because he kicked me once more. Ah, Sharp towed to the shins, I whimpered, stuffing a louder cry back down my throat. Go on, he said. I pushed the heels of my hands against the floor. My knees scrape the stone as I shifted, and because I could not look at his face without giving away the force of my hatred, I stared at my brother's stomach, thinking about how soft and unprotected it looked. Thank you. I spat the words as bitter as blood in my mouth, and I started counting the days until I would never have to kneel again.