Time is a feckless bitch, as Zurilya has learned. When she wished for a happily ever after for her love and herself, she never expected to still be alive 500 years later. Trapped in a cycle of hurting each other, she is on the hunt for the fae that...
I should serve his head on a silver platter and decorate his silky blond hair with crimson fruit. Sprinkle some salt in those dazzling blue eyes and watch them burn. But then again, if his head was detached from his body, it would not precisely hurt, and what would be the fun in that?
Maybe I should add the salt first.
It was all musing, really, but what else was one to do after 500 years? After FIVE HUNDRED years of this insanity, I could only thank the heavenly lords that my brains had not been scrambled by the endless stretch of time.
I rolled my eyes as the girl's squeaky moans became louder. It was like a cheese grater scratched her vocal cords.
Golden head on a silver platter. Golden head on a silver platter! I chanted, over and over, until it was all I could hear — all I could see. It took unworldly willpower to blind out the image of Prince Emillion, my husband, bedding some court lady right in front of my eyes. But five centuries had given me plenty of time to practice.
This refined lady of the Spridial Kingdom Court was louder than most. Her voice was a bit too high pitched to be pleasant. But Emillion knew that, and as much pleasure as he got out of the act, he got far more out of irritating me. I wondered what her father would say? He always prated about how graceful and pure his daughter was. The perfect example of a lady. I snorted at the thought of his face if he were to see his daughter being pounded on a desk. Something she did not seem to mind. Perhaps, I should invite him to watch it with me next time. Plays were always better with the company.
GOLDEN HEAD ON A SILVER PLATTER.
It shouldn't be much longer. If there was something dependable about the never-aging king — it was his timing. Something I had learned in year 234. At a certain point, even I gave in to the morbid curiosity.
"You seem somewhere else today?" Emillion asked. He turned to clean himself. I thanked him internally for the courtesy. "Off you go now." He slapped the ass of the girl on his large wooden desk and strutted his way to the dining table. My eyes were glued to his gold-plated belt that clacked as it swung back and forth. What a nice necklace that would make.
The long-haired brunette turned, brown eyes wide and shy as if finally realizing that I was standing there. I smiled and waved at her with the widest smile I could muster. Mean, I knew, but amusement was hard to find these days.
She scrambled to lower her rose-colored dress over her bare bottom before pushing past the sizable golden doors. I guess I'll call this one freckled bottom.
"Will you ever tire of these games?" I walked lazily to the empty chair by the other side of the mahogany dining table. I took one of the shimmering wine glasses and filled it to the rim. It might help get me through this conversation.
He chuckled, finally bringing my attention to his face. Sweat still glided down his chiseled cheeks, dipping around the crevice of his wicked, handsome smile. Many, many, many years ago, I would have fallen over myself at those rosy lips. "Well, my sweetheart Zurilya, if you ever come to stop hating it, I will stop doing it." He bit into a strawberry, savoring how the red juice sated his thirst.
My right arm trembled against the binding hold of the magic as I tried to raise it and shove the berry down his perfect gaping mouth. But I couldn't overpower its bindings, because, sadly, Happily Ever After meant no death.
Emillion once told me he tried to poison me for three months before realizing it was impossible to evade the magic spell. I wasn't sure if I was impressed by his persistence or questioned the integrity of his brains. I took a deep breath and let out the burning air in my lungs, and answered, "I care little for what you do anymore."
"So much that we have shared, love. Those words are so hurtful." He chuckled, aqua eyes slicing my throat.
I stabbed my knife into the meat at his use of the endearment, LOVE. It was a taunt. A harsh slap on the face. That I was once foolish enough to love him. I was a fool no more. "Well, you know me, I would hate to see you hurt. I would much rather inflict it."
"You will have to wait your turn, love. It seems fate favors me at the moment, and all my wishes and wants are coming true. So, if I desire to see you in pain as you watch me fuck a lady of the court, then you must wait your turn."
I smiled. "And what a glorious time it will be." It was a promise. A threat. Yet, despite my proud and confident face, doubt plagued my mind.
The favor of the fae's gift seemed to be lingering with him longer than normal. It would vary, of course, but never this long. Throughout time, it would give one of us everything we could ever desire. Then, just when we had reached the pinnacle of happiness and joy, it would switch to the other, usually to the detriment of the other's prosperity. Ordinarily, cycles of 50 years, but it has been with him for 80 years now. I was filled with dread at what this meant for my fate — forever a toy for him to torment.
What a fucking happily ever after I received.
I reached for the jelly jar on the table intent on spreading it on some of the freshly baked bread, but his hand snatched it before I could grab it.
"Well, love, how do you plan to enjoy our 500th anniversary together? Should I lock you up this time? We don't want you asking some faery for another remarkable gift." He dipped his finger into the jelly jar before licking his digit tauntingly.
"Wishing us a happy ever after was the worst mistake I ever made. I won't make it again." I scoffed, sipping on my wine. My silver ring rang against the cup, like a singing bird, signaling the danger to come.
I masked my smirk behind the golden wine glass. No. I would not make the same mistake. The last 500 years had been sobering, enlightening even, and I was no longer the foolish 19-year girl that wished for happily ever after — at least mentally.
"I will enjoy the celebration of the breaking of the celestial sky to its fullest," I promised.
Today, I would catch myself a fae and break this godforsaken spell.
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Artwork To Come Soon :}
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