Page 17 of Not Another Happily Ever After

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When we meet again, I will not waste time on apologies.

I will simply whisk you far away.

Until then.

I am sorry, Miss Sunday.

(Nearly five years ago)

My bare feet slap against the weather-worn parapet as I race across it with little regard for the dizzying drop on either side.

“Slow down!” Riven calls after me.

“And let you win?” My head kicks back in laughter. “Not a chance.”

I will my legs faster, ignoring the burn in my thighs as I lengthen my stride. I know we must be getting close to the tower’s base, but the torrential downpour makes it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

“Stop! Miss Sunday!”

Thick wet curls stick to my cheeks as I shake my head, cutting into my already limited visibility. But I don’t let up. Not when I’m at the cusp of winning for the very first time.

“Is that fear I hear, ghost boy?” I pant, using the back of my hand to try and push the dark tendrils from my eyes. “Scared to lose?”

I can almost see it, the winding tower spire piercing the storm swept sky. Just…a…little…far?—

“Sunday! No!” Riven shouts just as my foot finds its way into the thorny grasp of a bright blue vine.

Gravity takes me in an instant, leeching the scream from my lungs as the vine pulls me hard against, thenoverthe parapet’s ledge. I scrape and claw for purchase, finding a hold just below the ledge’s lip. My hand lands on another cobalt vine, its thorns digging deep into my palms.

“Hold on! I’m coming!” Riven’s boots echo in the distance. He’s not far, but the blood pooling around my fingers and down my wrists is loosening my grip. To make matters worse, the section of stone securing the vine I grip is crumbling.

It’s not going to hold.

“I’m going to fall.” The words slip through my lips, but my mind can’t seem to make any sense of them.

Maybe that’s a good thing? Maybe my body’s obvious denial of its impending doom means I’ll escape it once more.

I chance a look down.Nope! No, no, no.Below my dangling feet is a three hundred meter drop filled with sharp angles and jagged stones. The castle’s impassable cliffside.

There’s no surviving that.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I’m here. I’m right here, Miss Sunday.”

“Riven.” My chest loosens at the sight of my best friend lying on the ledge above me. His scarred smile spreads thin as he looks for a way to haul me up.

“There! Beside you. Grab hold of that vine,” he orders.

I follow his nod to a vine swinging violently from side to side. I don’t reach for it. Ican’t. What if the wind pushes it away as soon as I let go? What if it snaps?

“Eyes on me, Princess.”

Princess?I tear my gaze away from the makeshift rope long enough to flash him my disdain.

“There she is,” he teases, revealing the slightest hint of a smile.