Page 15 of Not Another Happily Ever After

And I’m to deliver them both

To him.

Prince Thoren Charming.

I make for the open arched windows that line the hall and double over, putrid bile rising in my throat. The acid burns my nose, forcing tears to stream down my cheeks. I gasp for breath, only to lose it as my insides try to purge every sordid memory of that man from my mind. A single name should not elicit such a visceral reaction, but his is not just a name. It’s a history I wish never to see repeated.

I’m not sure which is the first to fall. My heart or my knees. The cold checkered floor welcomes me wholly all the same, promising to numb all the parts of myself that I have yet to give away. God, how I want to sink into the marble, become one with the stones. Forget what it is to be made of flesh and bone.How much of myself must I be forced to live without before there is nothing left to live with?

I choke on the strangled sob that’s wrenched its way free with the rest of my stomach’s contents, when a pair of sturdy hands encircle my crumpled body.

With almost no effort at all they hoist me upright, away from the green and yellow mess.

Thunder and lightning rip through the night. The perfect backdrop to the shattering of all that remains.

My life.

My future.

My heart.

“I’m here, princess.” Rhidland pulls me close, his voice low as he wraps one of my arms around his armored neck, securing his hold with a steady hand at my waist. “I’ve got you.”

The twins take up position both in front and behind us as Rhidland brings me to my feet, probably to hide the undignified manner I find myself in. My hair pins loosened. My makeup ruined. Tiny rancid yellow spots littering my new gown.

I look every bit the beast the realm claims I am. And worse yet, we are more than a little late now. Though, if any of the men are concerned about the time, they don’t show it.

Their steel helmets are pulled down over their faces and their eyes are cast astray. Why they’ve made no attempt to move me, to curry my father’s favor, makes my chest thrum with suspicion. Perhaps they pity me. Maybe they know of my past with the prince. Or it could be that they’re just giving me time. Time to fall apart. To grieve. To sit with the dream I lived long enoughto see it corrupted. All while grappling with the one question I never allowed myself to ask.What have I done to deserve such exceptional cruelty?

I shudder in my old guard’s arms.

I doubt I should ever know why the Evil Queen marked my life the one to pay. Not that knowing would make any difference in how this all has to end. A life for a life after all.

“Should you wish to turn back, I could look the other way.” Rhidland’s voice is but a gentle whisper in my ear.

I turn at his words, and in his ever devoted eyes I find a question.

I want to nod. To scream. To turn around and run until I reach the top of the harpoon-tipped mountains surrounding the Kingdom of Ruin. Far from the festering rot that’s sunken its roots into every wall.Far from the prince who is nothing like his namesake.

My feet hesitate when thunder booms overhead, a shot of lightning crackling somewhere in the distance.

I think of Xander then. Of all the nights when we were little when he’d run into my bedroom to protect me from the storms. Funny thing was, they never scared me. But I let him believe they did, because I knew he’d never admit he was the one who was afraid. Just as he is now, with his love locked away in the dungeons below.

No.Putting this off, running away, is not an option. Neither is the luxury of dreaming such things. It is my turn to brave the storm. “If Father believes that my marrying the prince is necessary to break the curse, then that is exactly what I’ll do.”

Though death would have been kinder.

I standat the threshold of all I’ve endured, of what is yet to come, the long narrow dining hall stretched out before me. Dozens of empty tables collect dust and cobwebs on either side, beneath boarded up windows that once beamed with light. At the hall’s end, the king’s table waits, adorned in black cotton drabs and Mother’s finest silver. What’s left of it, at least.

Beyond that, a fire roars in the rocky mantelpiece. The chairs, too tall for me to see over, hide who sit at Father’s table. But the sound of Mother’s drunken laughter tells me the king and queen are not alone.

Thick black bottles of tannic red wine litter the floor. They were brought up from Father’s personal cellar, a small room in which all of the Kingdom of Ruin’s riches now sit. One rarely visited apart from very special occasions. To think Father sees this as one of those times sits like a stone in the pit of my stomach, but I push past it. I don’t need a repeat of what happened in the hall, especially with no knights for me to hide behind.

I take one step forward, and then another. The fire has barely warmed my skin when a shiver creeps down my spine. I rub my hands down my arms, but the pin-prick sensation only grows as I get closer to the dais. My eyes begin to roam of their own accord, searching the backs of chairs for the source of my unease. For?—

“Hello, Beastie.”

Him.