by Ella Fields
“My queen.” His breath coasted over my lips, searing. “Your heart is about as good as the existence of your soul—a rotten fucking lie.” He released me, his long strides carrying him down the hall and out of sight as I struggled to breathe.
The anger and hostility behind his lethal, silken words echoed throughout my spinning mind, clanging against my skull.
I swallowed repeatedly and blinked the wetness from my eyes, making sure they were dry. Then I reaffixed my crown and forced my feet into action.
Heading back into the ballroom, I snatched a glass of champagne and drained half of it in one swallow. I looked everywhere while trying to appear as if I were merely taking in the festivities, but I couldn’t see him.
“You have not trialed me.”
I stilled, glancing to my left.
Nova’s smile was brief, her posture riddled with arrogance.
“I do not care to be in your presence long enough to bother.”
She snorted. “Some queen you are.”
“Some wife you are.”
Her eyes widened, a shocked laugh erupting. “Touché.”
Over the lip of my glass, I watched her curtsy and disappear into the thick crowd.
I needn’t have worried over the possibility of Zad welcoming her back into his bed. I knew him, and I knew he was not the type to go marching around one’s castle in a jealous rage if that were the case.
The lord was many things, but a hypocrite was not one of them.
Raiden was by the dais, in conversation with my cousin. Curling my shoulders back, I walked over, interrupting their chatter.
“Cousin,” Adran drawled. “Please do throw more lavish events such as these.” He swallowed his champagne, then gestured to the brunette beside him. “You do remember Amelda, yes?”
I gave her my attention for all of a beat, nodding as she dipped low, her gold dress far too bright. “Majesty.”
“Engaged, right?” I remembered, sipping more wine.
Amelda glanced at the ground, and my cousin loosened the collar of his dark silver dress shirt. “Well, not exactly.”
“He stepped out on me with a village child minder.” My cousin coughed, tossing a quizzical glare her way. “What?” she said, looking away. “It’s true.”
I cared not if it were true and looked at Raiden, who was studying the pair with keen eyes.
“Needless to say,” Adran continued. “We’ve put the nuptials on pause for now.”
“Or indefinitely,” Amelda murmured. “Time will tell.”
“Not always,” Raiden said, throwing his ale down his throat with a harsh shake of his head. Heavy, narrowed greens fell upon me, but I maintained eye contact.
If he was waiting for an apology or some type of groveling, he’d be waiting for all eternity.
I felt eyes upon my back, and I didn’t need to turn around to know who they belonged to.
Zad stopped by our small circle, leaning in to say, none too quietly, “Be sure to touch her asshole when you’re inside her cunt.” He clapped Raiden’s shoulder. Hard. “Maybe then she’ll let you finish the job.”
My glass fell from my hand, shattering over the mosaic tile.
My cousin’s barely there brows shot up. “Juicy.” His eyes danced as he watched Zad prowl to the eastern doors. “Nothing like a scorned lover,” he sang, studying me over the lip of his goblet.
A large male wearing a furbane mask stood by one of the exits. Kash.
While a server fussed below me on the floor with the broken glass, I watched Zad reach him, and the both of them walk out into the courtyard.
He was leaving. I’d known he wouldn’t linger long. Not after what he’d said.
Not after what I’d done.
Still, panic caught every breath, my empty fingers curling at the feathers of my dress to keep from shaking.
“Cousin, you’re looking positively pale.”
“Excuse me,” Amelda said, ducking out of our circle. She weaved between the guests surrounding us, and the crowd swallowed her within seconds.
“I’m always pale,” I said, shifting back as the server collected the shards into a pan.
Adran laughed, his head bobbing. “True. So, your majesties…” His brows waggled. “How does it feel, reunited at long last?”
I frowned at him, as did Raiden, and then we both walked off in different directions, leaving Adran to finish his champagne on his own.
Out on the city streets, I felt Azela at my back, struggling to keep pace with me as I ducked and weaved between guests, searching for something I knew was no longer here.
A rotten fucking lie.
Stopping at one of the fountains housing wine that gurgled like purple water, I spun in a useless circle, growing dizzy as masked faces stared at me, laughter and talking and singing all blurring into a cloud of thunder that threatened to send me to the cobblestone street.
“Come,” Azela said, her hand wrapping around my arm.
“But…” I sniffed, stumbling a little.
“He is gone, Audra.” Rarely had I heard her use my name and never with such finality.
It did the job, and I whirled on Azela, taking in her somber expression.
After a moment, I nodded, and she led me back inside through hallways that’d been blocked off to the public, taking the long way to my rooms.
A moan stopped us in our tracks, and Azela cautiously rounded the corner.
I needed my own space, the silence to think and the chance to breathe without failing every time, so I rounded the corner and continued.
My feet tripped. I caught myself, slowing to take in Raiden and Eline.
He had her up against the wall in an alcove right beside the stairwell leading to my rooms, her legs wrapped tight around his waist.
Her cries were muffled as his mouth swept over hers, his hand gripping her thigh as he fucked her with hurried juts of his hips.
“Lovely,” I muttered, even as the remains of the wasteland he’d made for himself inside my chest panged. Yet as I headed upstairs, Azela accompanying me, I realized that pang lessened with each step.
Azela closed the doors but did not leave. I knew she was readying herself to say something about what we’d seen downstairs, but I hadn’t the energy to stop her. “He was fucking her. In the hallway.”
“Yes,” I said, removing my crown. I set it upon the pillow inside its glass home, then pulled off my mask. “A rather prime spot to do so.”
Azela cussed so violently, I almost laughed. “That filthy animal. He is your husband. And tonight of all nights.” She cussed again. “He should be setting an example.”
“He sure is setting one,” I said, moving my hair aside and motioning for help with undoing my corset.
Her hands were gentle as she unclasped each hook, and my shoulders drooped as I was able to finally draw my first deep breath for the evening. “What of the lord?” she asked carefully.
“The lord is the reason the king is currently inside another female and making a show of it.” That was all I’d give her, and she knew it.
“The marriage is a sham?”
“It is now.” I stepped out of my dress, leaving it behind in a mountain of feathers on the rug, and unclipped my undergarments on the way to the bathing chamber. “Good night, Azela.”
“My queen…”
“I said good night.” After plugging the tub, I turned the faucet and straightened as Azela reached the doors. “Oh, and please tell our king that I am unwell and to express my apologies to our guests.”
Azela’s smirk caused my lips to wriggle. She nodded, leaving.
I climbed inside the tub, waiting for the heating water to fill around me, and stared at the wall. After a time, my dry eyes began to close, but I shook myself awake.
There’d be no lord to carry me to bed.
There’d be no lord awaiting me in my bed.
There was a good chance there would never be a lord in these rooms of mine ever again.
Th
e regret caught fire, spreading to my eyes. I squeezed them shut.
Rotten souls did not cry.
Pushing my tea aside, I paused on one of the documents before me, and reread it.
A request for the termination of marriage, signed by Nova and Zad Allblood.
Cupping my mouth, I read it again and again, double-checking, needing to after what had happened two nights prior in this very castle.
After what had been said.
Then I was up and crossing the study, my ears ringing with my increasing heartbeat.
Mintale, on his way in, sandwiched himself into the doorway. “Majesty?”
“Zad. Lord Allblood. Is he still in the city?”
“At the Rosaleen, I believe, awaiting the approved termination.”
Fisting my skirts, I hurried down the hall. “I’ll be back later.”
“Wait,” Mintale rushed after me. “Your guard.”
I ignored him. The city was the safest it’d been since well before my father’s death.
Even so, Garris snapped into action when he saw me heading for the exit, keeping hot on my heels. I lost him within the crowd of an auction being held near market square.
The Rosaleen was a high-class bed and breakfast that most royals preferred during their stay or after a night of too much debauchery. Some for more sinister and secretive things.
The narrow pale blue three-story structure was wedged between a bar and a café along the harbor, providing a view of the glistening water and mountains beyond.
Inside, a bell tinkled, the concierge glancing up from the book he’d been reading with a start. “M-majesty.” He cussed when he bowed and bumped his elbow on his ruby red desk.
Glancing around the red and pink trussed-up establishment, I searched for the stairs.
I found them behind the desk to the left, white and twirling through the ceiling.
Mirrors of every size and frame bedecked the pale pink walls. The concierge sang after me while I scaled the squeaking metal stairs.
He gave up after a moment, his high-pitched voice fading beneath the loud thump of my heart and boots over the plush gray carpets lining the halls.
He was on the third floor, I realized, climbing the stairs again and catching a whiff of that blood-bubbling scent of his.
I knocked and waited. Then I knocked again before deciding I was through with waiting. “Open the door or I’ll force it open.”
Kash walked out of the neighboring room, and with a lingering look my way, he took the stairs down.
The hinges squeaked as Zad, clad in an undershirt and loose pants, his hair falling out of its tie to shield half his agitated face, finally opened the door.
“Are you ready to apologize and plead forgiveness?” That was apparently the wrong thing to say as he made to close the door, annoyance rolling off him like a thunderstorm. “Wait.”
“Audra, I’ve no desire to do this right now, and surely, you’ve better things to do.”
“Excuse me?” I blinked.
He rubbed his forehead, sighing. “You don’t seem to understand.”
“Understand what?” I checked the room behind him, making sure there were no females in there. There was only a lavishly dressed large bed, an armoire, a kitchen nook, and a desk with inkpots and quills.
“Satisfied?” he said, brows high.
I lifted my chin. “What do you mean?”
With a half roll of his eyes, he stepped back. “This.” Waving a hand, he said, “Exactly this. You chase me, but it’s futile because you’re not willing to actually do anything.”
“And what would you have me do? Have you stay with me, make a life with me anyway?” I shook my head, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. “What life would you have? How would you fare with the constant reminder that he is my husband, and therefore you will always remain my lover?”
His brows and tone knitted with impatience. “That is a question you should’ve asked weeks ago.”
I almost growled, my temper burning. “What difference does it make?”
“Because weeks ago, I’d have told you I’d be happy to sleep on the floor of your rooms. I need no title. I already have one I don’t particularly want. I only wanted you.”
My roiling anger fled in the face of fear. Still, I was no coward. Even when confronted with questions I had a feeling I might not like the answer to. “And now?”
His cold eyes traveled my body, his top lip lifting. “Now, I’d be happy to never see you again.”
I pushed the door open before he could close it in my face. “You terminated your marriage.”
“You assume that is all your doing?” His eyes twinkled with incredulity. “I’m not sorry to inform you that not everything revolves around you.” When I gaped at him, he reached for a strand of my hair, looping it around his finger, his thumb stroking. “She did not wish to remain married to a male who’d linked with someone else, and I do not blame her.”
Balance was hard to maintain as I tried to absorb what he wasn’t saying, not that I had room to argue. I couldn’t help myself. “But you would’ve remained married.”
He released my hair, his eyes roaming mine in that way they did when he was waiting for me to figure something out. Turning away from me, he walked to the window that overlooked the harbor. “You can leave now.”
I wanted to stomp my foot, then march over and demand he look at me. “I don’t want to.”
Slipping his hands inside his pockets, he said in a tone that reeked of indifference, “It was not a request.”
“But I am your queen.”
“No.” He threw a wolfish smile at me over his shoulder. “You may be a queen, but you are not mine.”
“You do not mean that,” I said, voice quaking.
“I do,” he said, too firm. “You once told me a queen can do whatever she damn well pleases. So if it were me you truly wanted, you would have taken me already.” Unhurried, his bare feet ate the space between us. “You chose not to, and not for the sake of the continent, but for the sake of your dark heart.” He leaned closer, his scent and voice dizzying, as he said low, “You prefer it black. You prefer it hurt rather than feel good because then you needn’t worry about someone destroying it again. So this game of push and pull that makes you feel safe?” he said. “I will play it no more.”
With that, he slammed the door, and I couldn’t even bring myself to knock or force it open. A dagger was cutting through my insides as I bit my lip, tasting copper on the way out.
Hope. It was hope that carried the most buoyant type of joy.
It was hope that was the most addictive feeling of all—that sense of such euphoric happiness lying just out of reach.
You can smell it. Taste it. Imagine it. Long for it.
And that is why hope is the most dangerous foe of all.
For when that glimmer of happiness falls away, slips from reach and from sight, you don’t just fall. You plummet.
And many do not survive the impact.
A ship filled with trading goods was entering the harbor.
I watched its captain at the helm, and the way he slowly grew into a more detailed man the closer he brought the vessel to the docks.
He was hairy. His face and his long hair gray. A human covered in tattoos we’d often hear about in neighboring countries. Countries that would trade with us but nothing else.
To them, we were a land of monsters. Tyrants with too much power within our midst.
Certain beings were better left inside the pages of a book in order to sleep well each night. It would do us and the rest of the world no good to acknowledge our existence too closely. Someone might get a bright idea. Or a dark one.
And there were some wars you couldn’t win, no matter how much power you possessed.
A blue tail peeked through the waves created by the long ship, then a glimpse of gray.
A mermaid.
So many said they rarely saw them, the creatures of Beldine who roamed its bordering seas.
They were the very reason I stopped to stare at the water, even at the expense of gawkers and mothers asking me to wish their babes well.
I saw them often. Though never up close. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, for I wasn’t sure what it was I’d see.
Some said they were beautiful; true sirens who would draw many men to their deaths.
Some said they looked like regular human women. Some pretty, some not so much, and some in between.
Some said they were the true monsters of the sea, not the serpents or the sharks or sea dragons, but the women with bodies who lured and faces that would chase a child into nightmares for the rest of their existence.
Some said they had no souls and would forever search for them in the still beating hearts of mortals.
Your heart is about as good as the existence of your soul—a rotten fucking lie.
Had he meant such cruelty? I should’ve known better than to even wonder. The lord was born with a tongue that could so casually cut through any adversary, no matter how he felt for them. He could be cold and indifferent, but never in this way.
“They like the ships,” Truin said, appearing next to me.
I didn’t look over at her. I kept my chin on my arms, which were folded over the wooden railing used to shield the residents of the city from the sharp rocks fringing the ice-flecked waters below.
“You see them, too.”
“All my life.”
“Have you ever met one?”
She laughed. “No. Most likely, no one has. Or they haven’t lived to tell the tale.”
“What tale do you think that would be?”
She was quiet a moment, as if thinking about it. “I’ve no idea. When I was a girl, I’d sometimes wonder if they could meet a handsome prince, kiss him, and then grow legs. And if that was why they called them sirens.”
“Did you think they’d kill the prince after getting what they wanted?”
“Horrid,” she said, smiling wide. “No, I did not.”
“I bet they would,” I said, smiling a little myself as another tail flapped through the water behind the slowing ship, this one orange. “I would.”
“You know,” she said, “I don’t know if you would.”