Page 6 of Not Another Happily Ever After

Time.Time to explore the world beyond these castle walls. To live the life I’ve not been granted, for fear that I might make everything worse.

I want to smell flowers that aren’t a deadly shade of red. I want to see the sun shine off these black castle walls. To see the light pour in through the stained glass windows decorating the long halls. I want to know what it would feel like on my skin. Would it hurt?

And what of the dragons? Is there no hope of seeing the skies filled with their feathery wings again? Are little girls and boys destined to fall prey to the very creatures that remain a staplein their bedtime stories? Is the rot to turn every wonder of the world into just that—a story, history turned fable in the years to come?

And what of me? How will my story read? Will I ever know love or how to make it? I’ve read a great deal about true love’s kiss, but does that happen before or after the love has been made?

God, I want to know what it is to love and be loved in return. I want to be touched in a way that doesn’t leave a scar. That soothes the ache in this bleeding heart I call home. I want for so much, but more than anything, I want more time.

All at once, the walls begin to shrink around me, suffocating what little hope I held in my lungs all these years.

“I need to leave this room.”No. “I need to leave this castle.”

“What are you—” Galahand reappears in the doorway, his eyes widening at my legs now dangling off the side of the bed. “No, no, no. You must rest!”

He slams the door shut and rushes toward me when a sudden drop in temperature has him whirling around. His dusty blue robes catch beneath his feet as he jumps back from the door that’s swung back open.

Rich notes of whiskey and damp earth flood my senses. I meet my unexpected visitor’s pointed look with my one good eye. Not that I need two, or really either, to know exactly who he is.

He is the only man I’ve ever known to carry such an overwhelming undercurrent of sympathy for those around him. But whatever affections my brother holds for me are quickly dismissed as Father steps out of the shadows and into the torch-lit room.

An audible gulp is the only defense I can muster under his icy stare. He is ever the mighty King, looming over his beastly daughter.

“She’s awake.” The King’s voice drips with authority. Not a question, but spoken as a matter of fact.

Galahand blinks at my father, and as if suddenly remembering himself, bends at the waist. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Mm.”

Nothank goodnessorthere’s always next time. Not even a nod in my direction. Justmm.

If the room was frigid before, it’s well below freezing now. I chase away the sudden need to tuck myself beneath the thin muslin sheets with a shaky exhale.

Galahand straightens, his rigid body and stiff limbs looking woefully uncomfortable as his eyes bounce from me to Father, waiting for the rest of his king’s response. Or perhaps hoping for an early dismissal.

I don’t blame him. I’d scrub the crap out of the mountains’ polluted streams if it meant removing myself from the center of Oren Silverwood’s attention. The King of Ruin is not an easy man to look at, with his towering form, his darkened hair and pale skin only accentuating the scars riddling his face. He’s a man who never has to ask twice.

“And she’s well enough to move around on her own.” Another statement, this one leaving even less room for reply.

Still unsure, Galahand answers, “Uh, she should be?—”

“Good.” The king’s response is sharp, like the tips of the broken blades crossed at his back— a strong indicator that this is anything but good.

Galahand’s insistent thumb tapping tells me he shares my worries. Father is not known to occupy this side of the castle, let alone pay a visit to the infirmary. And he’s certainly never made any efforts to see me after one of my spells. Looking after me has always been the responsibility of someone else. Someonelesser.

Yet, here he is.

I push my shoulders back and lift my chin. Just like my governess taught me.

Maybe he does care? Maybe he knows my time is running out, and wishes to make up for the time we’ve lost together while he was out searching for the dead prince’s remains. And here I am, staring like an idiot.Gah.

“Father, I?—”

He stops me with a single finger raised, eyeing the bubbly blue vial on Gally’s desk before turning his cold stare on me. “You are to return to your chambers, where you will change into something…more.” He adjusts the lapels of his hunting blazer, shaking the disgust from his prominent features.

I bow my head low enough for my loose hairpins to fall free, and with them, the mess of oily black waves that cascade past my shoulders into my lap. I suck in a sharp breath, the memory of what happened the last time I didn’t keep presentable in front of the king glaring up at me from a small scar atop my wrist.

My brother moves first, stepping to stand between the king and me. Shielding me from the heat of Father’s anger while giving me time to put myself back together.