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...
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Day One Hundred Eighty-Two Thousand, Four Hundred Thirty-Eight started out as dull and fruitless as any other in my eternal life. I suppose I should at least be kissing the Lord's arse for the duties that took me away from my dreadful husband this very morning.
But playing the part of 'god Blessed Queen' was as stomach-wrenching as breathing the same air as him. I may as well be stepping from one pile of horseshit to another.
The somber sun broke through the stained glass windows of the elegant church as I descended the altar's stairs. Crowds of devoted subjects stacked two endless rows of dark, wooden benches that outlined the tediously long walkway to the preaching platform. It did not go unnoticed to me that the high priest of the Estridial Kingdom loved to have the rulers attend mass just when the sun was at its highest point. When heavenly light broke through the tinted window, shining a godly yellow glow against the white stone on those that descended. On me.
Hands clawed desperately at the seams of my peach-colored dress when I reached the bottom of the stairs. The fabric stretched, threatening to rip off my lightly sun-kissed skin. It was a smart move to wear my treenut-colored hair up in an elaborate twist of braids and folds, lest it also be yanked for good luck.
"Blessed Queen, please bless my child with your good fortune!" A desperate mom hurled her crying babe into my face.
My hand gently graced the smooth surface of the child's forehead. "May the heavenly gods favor your future with good luck." I smiled at the ecstatic mother who now cuddled her child like it was a lucky charm. You are going to need it with that mother of yours.
"Please! Blessed Queen, bless me as well!"
"No! Bless me."
"I don't have a child. But I can have one so bless me in advance!"
A snort threatened to break my composed smile. I wished I could pat the back of whoever said that last one. It tickled my ribs.
I turned to the crowd of pleading faces and gave a soft wave goodbye. A needle of guilt pricked my heart as the high priest, Exia, walked down the same aisle coated in robes the color of excrement. An entourage of altar boys followed his strides, collecting silver coins from the crowd of weathered and hard-working hands.
The monks were leeches, and I was the one feeding them the blood.
I exited through the grand open doors and walked hastily to my carriage. Two metal-covered guards waited patiently for me to enter.
"Blessed Queen, a word if I may?" Exia's low and screechy voice called from behind me.
I cursed my luck. I was but a step from entering the carriage and enjoying a long and peaceful ride to the palace. I choked down the bile as I turned to face Exia. The sunlight shone off of his bald scalp as sweat trickled down. Three poor black hair-strands tried so hard to compensate for the cruelty of time. "Yes?" I asked.
