Ruined

Home > Other > Ruined > Page 2
Ruined Page 2

by Rebecca Grey


  Digging into my pockets, I pulled out a shiny golden coin that could cover the cost of most of the people drinking this evening and I tossed it against the counter. Not even a miniscule dent in the fortune that my family held, the wealth that let me live this life. The noise of the money bouncing against the old wooden surface, while it spun just once before falling flat, was enough to draw the attention of the waitress.

  She looked as if her stilling hadn’t stopped until she hit her mid sixties. The lines on her face hung heavy on her pale blue skin, dragging what must have been a once beautiful face into something a bit abstract. She must have barely a drop of noble fae blood within her. Her gray hair sat twisted on top of her head, only pieces of frizz poked out around her face.

  She grinned down at the coin and snatched it up quickly.

  “What can I get for you, Your Highness?” The few teeth she had kept were coated in yellow and brown and became visible as she widened her smile. She leaned forward, tucking her arms in just so, letting her bust push up and over the low cut top as she spoke. It seemed my reputation may have preceded me.

  While I was contemplating taking someone home tonight, I had no intentions of rolling around in bed with someone who needed a new set of teeth. Casually, I turned from the stench of her breath and began looking over the crowd. Criminals and lowly commoners alike were out to enjoy their night. The occasional cheer or roar of laughter rose like a wave over the horde of fae, seemingly passing over me. Joy and happiness somehow unable to seep through my hard exterior.

  “Dealer's choice,” I finally said as I spotted Shavarra playing a game of cards in the corner. I gave her the briefest of nods.

  Over my shoulder, a familiar voice greeted me, distracting me. Careful not to run my elbow through the puddles from the rings of sweat off the glasses on the counter, I twisted in my seat to greet my friend.

  “Out on the prowl again, are we Dace? Shouldn’t you be off making political decisions and courting proper maidens?” Torrance grabbed my arm and squeezed, shaking me a little as he spoke.

  “Torrance, of all the things my mother told me to stay away from, I think you ended up at the top of that list.” I shook off his embrace and reached for the drink that had been placed in front of me.

  Torrance stood about a foot shorter than me with his blue hair worn loose, dangling into his silver eyes. Even though he was short, his arms and legs looked as if they were too long for his body. He was simply all limbs. His pointed features made his face look as though he was always feeling sour about something, reminding me of my mother; however, tonight his lips were upturned in a lazy grin.

  He took it upon himself to take company in the seat next to mine. With a tilt of an eyebrow he picked up my glass and raised it to his nose. Torrance inhaled loudly and lifted a hand for the bartender.

  “I’ll be having whatever it is you gave our rotten little prince. It seems potent enough for the evening.” He gave me a playful wink.

  I never made good friends with many of the courtiers. That would make my mother too happy, not to mention, they are all so stuffy and plain boring. My place seemed to be with these people, the people who had nothing, didn’t care if you dressed nice, and didn’t care to worry about who you would marry.

  Despite my silence, Torrance continued, “I think I’m going to head out and go tarakeet hunting if you’re interested. Maybe get in some other sort of trouble.” He wiggled his fingers in a flirty wave across the bar at some women who had gathered to order their own drinks. None of them caught my eye tonight.

  Tomorrow we would spend the majority of the day preparing for the evening I would have to be in good nature for dinner in the Heathern Court. Should a prince show up to a formal dinner hungover? No. Was I going to? Probably. So in the end, I still shrugged and said, “That sounds perfect.”

  Tonight would be another night of staying out later than necessary, drinking myself into a coma, and sleeping until the sun went back down. My mother would have a cow in the morning when I didn’t complete my tasks.

  Each meeting, each political conversation was for a life I hadn’t wanted to be given. I didn’t ask to be born into this noble fae bloodline. I was content to fool around and have fun for the rest of my time. With my mother and father around, I didn’t need to be ready to take over the throne for at least over two hundred years.

  That gave me one hundred and ninety-nine years to do as I pleased.

  Or perhaps if I did marry, my new wife would run the Twinity Court and I would merely have to show up for the events and sign my name, much like my father. Yet, I have such little faith in the women my mother has asked me to court and wed. They were all flimsy little things that do what they are told and never challenge anyone to think twice about their choices. They would only produce pure blood children and follow me around like a beautiful shadow.

  I could care less about what my mother really wanted of me. She knew it, my father knew it too. The whole Twinity Court was probably aware of it since it seemed that it's the most interesting topic for these people to talk about over tea nowadays.

  Tilting my glass back, I took a large swig of alcohol from my cup. Each drop stinging down my throat and warming my stomach until the feelings branch out to my limbs and eventually my brain. The bartender had done well.

  My attention lazily rolled over my friend who shot down his beverage quickly and set the glass back down against the bar with a heavy thunk. He ran his tongue over his lips eyeing each woman that batted their eyelashes at him across the room. Almost like a predator, he stood up from his seat and turned away from me to the woman, his voluntary prey.

  Soon a chorus of their feminine giggles filled the room. I’m sure he had something clever to say. Torrance had that way about him. Something I did envy, the way he could charm his way out of every situation while I was blunt and dry. It wasn’t for lack of trying, though.

  I stood, leaving my drink unfinished, to make my way through the crowd. Some people smiled at me in recognition, some paid no attention as we bumped against each other as if I was just another person to take up space. I made no move to humor anyone who recognized me. Not a smile. Never an apology for pushing my way through the sea of bashed fae.

  Shavarra was greedily pushing her winnings into a burlap bag as she smiled up at me. The other members of her card game had left, leaving her alone with the large sum of coins. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a tight bun on top of her head and she wore men’s trousers with a loose white shirt tucked into them. I tried not to let my eyes linger too long over her full chest that could not be hidden with the shirt.

  “Come to talk me into buying you a drink? Or would you like to challenge me to a game of cards?” she said as I approached.

  “Mmm, I think I’m okay on both accounts. Looks like you beat your opponents pretty badly. Bet, they didn’t know you were the best card player around,” I responded sliding into the booth across from her.

  She huffed a laugh. “Hardly the best around. But they were pretty cocky for a bunch that didn’t even know what the heck a tilted house was.”

  Tightly, she tied up the bag and shoved it deep into her pockets before she folded her hands on the table between us and continued, “So, Dace, what brings you to my neck of the woods tonight?”

  “Torrance wants to go hunting. I thought you might be interested.”

  “Really?” Pausing, she turned to look at the girl Torrance had cornered. His fingers traced over the length of her torso like he was perfecting the art of drawing her frame. “I think...I think he might be busy tonight.”

  An easy chuckle bubbled over my lips. Behind us the next booth knocked into the wall so roughly the dim light hung between us swayed. The glow from the dim fae firelight highlighted the cleavage that peaked from Shavarra’s untied collar while it left me in the shadows.

  “Oh, he’ll have his way and be done with her before we leave.” I waved a hand in his direction, dismissing her thoughts.

  “Now, Dace, i
s this really the reason you’re showing up here? Because I just don’t believe you. Aren’t you leaving for that celebration in the Heathern Court tomorrow? Are you still seeing her?”

  Seeing her. That made it sound like we were an item, like she was a tangible being, and less like I was obsessed with someone I have never met. I focus on the woodgrain of the table, my lips flattening. Naturally, I fought to keep my features neutral before they could threaten to give me away.

  Each night I closed my eyes to witness her life, the visions so vivid as if I was there living the moment with her. It was not that easy to love. It shouldn’t be. I refused for it to be.

  Lust must be all that it was and will be. I wouldn’t allow this stranger in my dreams to sneak into my heart and take the pieces with her as she left.

  “You jealous?” I tried my hand at being Mr. Charming.

  “Dace,” she deadpanned.

  The sigh that fell over my lips was unintentional. “Shavarra. I see her every damn night. And,” I paused to give her my famous dry smile, “I am, unfortunately, leaving for that trip tomorrow.”

  Her lavender eyes drifted down toward the table, her hands unfolding before she ran her fingertips over the mahogany stained wood. “I’m always here for you. Always. But perhaps there is another outlet you could try?”

  I took a slow breath before I stood and confidently joined her on the bench she sat on. I turned to face her and scooped her slender hands into mine. “I have no interest in exploring other outlets when this one works fine enough.” I traced my thumb along the length of hers before I brought one hand to my lips placing a small kiss against her warm skin.

  It never seemed to bother her before. She knew we would never marry, yet she could not deny that our bodies were drawn to each other. We were two puzzle pieces of the same puzzle that just didn’t necessarily go together.

  Exploring other outlets was something I’d done, just not something I’d chosen to discuss with her. And nothing, nothing, ever worked. Even the time I’d spent with her was only a minimal distraction that kept my mind from racing for maybe a few hours. I often wondered if this was what it was like to lose my mind.

  Shavarra untangled her hand from mine and closed the space between us, climbing into my lap, her legs straddling me, pushing my spine farther against the back of the booth. I could feel the curve of her body beneath those loose fitting garments.

  “How much do you want to get back to your mother?” she whispered into my ear, her breath damp against my earlobe.

  My breath quickened and I brought my hands up to cup her backside, pushing a rough, messy kiss against her mouth. Together we were nothing but lust and heat.

  There was no denying the attention that fell on us. Knowing gazes and curious gossipers watching the prince of the Twinity Court with a lesser fae girl.

  A smirk twisted my lips upward. “All of it.”

  “Your mother will be so mad.” She breathed, like the challenge to the crown it was. That’s what thrilled her so.

  “Yes, she will.”

  THREE

  Milo

  This clothing was uncomfortable. Itchy and clinging to my body in ways I wasn’t used to. The clothing items this realm seemed to wear was one of the top reasons why I loathed this mission as I did. How could they let their clothing be so restrictive?

  I stood in front of the only mirror available in the small room I rented from the inn. It was hardly suitable for someone of my stature but it would do for now.

  Squatting low, I grimaced at the way the fabric barely gave when I lowered or twisted. Dreets above. What would happen if I gave a good kick? Surely, the pants would split themselves in half. And the underbritches they have me in...I was being suffocated.

  Queen Atarah gave me this terrible job believing that I could and would see it through to completion. It was a curse that this was the fate I was destined to serve.

  A fugitive escaped from our realm and was thought to be hiding here, in this wretched awful place. She wasn’t privy to the knowledge I had about his sudden departure or the role I played in it. So to be so far away from her was also in itself a gift. Even though I could still feel the magic that bound us together tugging at my soul as a reminder of who I survived. Each command she gave me sent a firelike pain, I’d almost grown accustomed to, through my veins.

  Yes, I cursed her name from this distance where I might be safe from prying ears. With another frown at the less than comfortable accommodations I had so far been offered I stewed on my thoughts. I hated my queen for all that she had done to my world. Her inability to think of someone other than herself while she stripped people of their resources to surround herself with the finest, leaving only scraps for the peasants. Not that you might tell the difference between peasants and the rich at this point, unless you lived within the castle walls. Everyone would fend for themselves and true friends were few and far between.

  This land that I had followed our transient guest to was still thriving. The marketplace, despite the smell of sweat, appeared to be rich in trade, the soil still able to hold a good crop. These details were things I would keep to myself if I was able. If Queen Atarah didn’t ask me for this information directly. What wasn’t painful was finding loopholes, and plenty of loopholes I had found.

  Some things were more important to her than her people and that was truly the reason I was here. The queen wanted back what was stolen from her, she wanted her chance at supreme power back.

  Follow the prisoner. Her first command. She couldn’t let him get away with what knowledge he had of our world.

  Bring back what was taken. Her second and most powerful command yet. She knew her token was missing. She knew, and I was her pawn that could live or die as long as she got what she thought was rightfully hers.

  No one should hold the power of that token. The power should be destroyed. If I didn’t fear being struck down by the gods that created us, I would curse them for letting something like the token be forged and used by any creature.

  Sadly, the magic oath was too strong for me to avoid the inevitable. Not if, but when I got my hands on that token, I would have to bring it to my terrible queen. The best thing I could do was search for the lost prisoner in places I didn’t think he would be. Working for her command but at my own pace so I might be able to find the loopholes I need.

  Plans made for an easier assignment. I had mapped out my stay here already and I knew my exact course of action. First I had to find myself a job. Coins from Tierasia didn’t exactly mean anything here, but gold did. I traded the few coins I had for this terrible outfit and the rundown room at this weathered hotel. The coins were worth more than what they would melt them down to be here. A total loss on my end.

  Though I found myself lucky while listening to the woman behind the front desk jabber on about the availability of her rooms and how I found myself the last open space that could be offered in this town. Every room in every inn was filled with eligible young men, strong men, like me. The king’s guard was looking to recruit. It was a respectable job with perks such as living on the castle ground, and a full pocket of coin.

  Fighting was my strong suit. Torture even better yet. However, we would see just where the gods would take me today. Money was playing a big part in my mission, seeing as I didn’t have any. Just wedging my foot in the castle doors may be the closest thing I’m going to get to finding some shape of power in this land. Queen Atarah would either seethe at the news of me working under another ruler or she would burst with joy with my ability to slither into someone else's castle.

  I pulled away from the mirror leaving behind my empty room, vacant eyes, and a hollow expression then descended the stairs. Boards creaked under my feet with every step, the railing spiked with splinters. Below, a few overstuffed chairs and a warm fire made the building feel almost cozy.

  The gossipy woman with cinnamon colored hair behind the desk smiled at me, waving as if her very life depended on it. Sometimes fae here were too… friend
ly. I wouldn’t consider myself a friendly guy.

  With a nod at the girl, I reached for the door.

  “Have a wonderful day, Milo,” she called.

  I tried not to flinch as my name formed over her thin pink lips. Perhaps I should have used an alias. Hearing my name said so freely felt like they held some sort of power over me, maybe they did here. Even a friendly jaunt set me on edge.

  Dust from a carriage, as it rolled its way down the dirt road, filled the air as I stepped out onto the street. There were men just like me, poised and determined, roaming past the storefronts and open markets. They all were making their way to the same place.

  Vendors called out to me offering me meat, spices, or handmade articles of clothing. No one kept my attention. Their voices caught in the unfamiliar wind. Pedestrian filled sidewalks slowly became purged of women and children and withered until it was only the strongest of men who came to a stop in a long line that waited for the chance at their future.

  The Billards Arena, the renowned open air theatre that hosted anything from plays to weddings waited at the end of the line. Though it was still miles away from the castle and the throne this king sat upon, we could see the beautiful white stone walls peeking up over the green grassy hills. The woman behind the counter of the hotel had told me as much, though I expected less.

  My chest met with the back of the man before me and my back to the man behind me. I jerked to a stop, this long line becoming a sandwich of cock and ego. Traffic on the sidewalk had become clogged with strictly male bodies. Not a tit to be seen. A shame, really.

  I grunted, elbowing the man before me in a desperate attempt at space. He didn’t budge.

  The air here was stagnant with sweat and ungodly body odor. Rotting onions and corpses smelled better than this line I found myself in.

  “Oh, I bet the guards get a close look at the beautiful princess almost daily,” one man with long curling whiskers said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

 

‹ Prev