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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I thought I was beyond trusting the hen not to peck. For god's sake, it had a beak. People were no different — always did the most predictable and self-serving thing. I supposed it was not a person that broke their word this time, but a Fae. The sun rose and set beyond the horizon, but Earithia never arrived.
I paced back and forth for the hundredth time in my silk-woven green dress. The marble floor of my private tea room never looked as polished as when the expensive fabric dragged over the shiny surface.
It was a quaint little room. At the center sat masterfully crafted wooden chairs and a tea table engraved with beautiful patterns of silver and gold. To the right was a set of aqua chaise lounge sofas with their own table. Because one needed so many different places within the same room to drink tea.
Useless things cluttered the space within these beige walls, except the one thing I actually wanted. The one person I needed.
"Blessed Queen?" A blast of asparagus assaulted my nose. Exia stood hunched over by the closed doors, draped in dull, brown monk robes.
"What was that?" I asked.
"If I may be so bold, Queen Zurilya, you seem to be distracted. It is of utmost importance that the celebration of the breaking of the celestial sky proceeds without any mishaps. One never knows which blessing the gods may bestow upon us." Greed shone in Exia's dull eyes.
Perhaps Emillion was right; the old man, who was two feet away from falling into a grave, was hoping for everlasting life.
He did not understand what he wished for. Fool. Three-haired fool.
But even a fool has its uses.
I collapsed on the lounge sofa and sighed loudly with desperation. "You know, perhaps I should not attend the celebration. I have nothing new to wear to it." A ridiculous notion, I knew, but he thought me a dim-witted queen, so it was an easy role to play.
"You must!" he screamed. His head snapped down, and he stepped back as he remembered who he was addressing — greedy fool. "Pardon my tone, but it is essential that you attend. You must only say what you need, my Blessed Queen, and we will procure it. Shall we call the best seamstress in the kingdom?" Desperation dripped through his rotting brown teeth.
"It is nothing against the kingdom. I just grow bored of these gowns." It was not a lie. The corsets were so dreadful. If mother nature wanted womankind to have such tiny waists, she would not have blessed us with such stubborn ribcages.
My head dropped back against the couch arm dramatically. "I saw a new seamstress, and her foreign dresses are such a delight" — I sighed — "but she shows no interest in catering to me. A shame indeed."
"What is her name? We will make sure to find her, my queen."
"Earithia."
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