If the King did it, why would he use my father’s art as the backdrop to the social season?
It was more than my father’s life that was stolen. I was thrust into a living hell after his death, and while I thought I’d moved on, a deep dark need for retribution still pounds in my blood.
With each violent throb of my heart, my hands turn slick with sweat and the promise of a headache kicks up at my temples. Trying to shut down the pain and emotions fueling my anger, Istrain to twist the spigot closed. It only intensifies the feelings bubbling up inside me with relentless force.
A shift in a trio of women nearby draws my attention and the bottom drops out from under me. It’s as if I’m free-falling directly into hell. The sounds around me distort into a dull, incomprehensible roar. What started as clammy palms turns into a full-body cold sweat. Primal fear grabs me by the scruff of my neck, capturing me in a chokehold.
My focus snaps to the cruel, beautifully twisted faces of my former family.
There stands my stepmother, Marisela, in a gown as dark as her soul, its fabric clinging to her like a second skin. Her beauty, undiminished by the centuries, belies the malevolence lurking beneath. Her eyes sweep the room, cold and calculating. The way she holds herself with a Queen's disdain converts me back into that shy, unsure little girl.
To her right, my eldest stepsister, Anastasia, mirrors her mother's chilling elegance. The cascade of midnight blue silk slithers around her as she moves, seeming almost alive. Ice-cold blonde hair is pulled into an elegant updo that offsets her pale eyes. Her face has always reminded me of a snake, which is fitting to her personality.
And then there’s Drusilla, the youngest, who takes perverse pleasure in her own brand of sadism. Clad in a gown of inky black, she stands slightly apart, her head tilted in a mock show of innocence that doesn’t fool me for a second. Her colorless eyes match her sister’s, though her hair is a deep chestnut brown like her mother’s.
Memories of cold, hunger, and pain dance before my eyes. They took everything from me and left me with scars that no amount of time or distance can heal.
I thought we were family.
I was wrong.
Forcing my burning lungs to commence breathing again, I remind myself that I’m not that little girl under their control anymore.
Fuckity frog wads. This is a terrible time to remember I forgot to take my iron supplements. Faintness sweeps through me and I struggle to feel the floor under my feet.
They wear expressions of shock and displeasure at seeing me. Except for Drusilla. She looks as though she’s rediscovered a long, lost forgotten toy that used to be her favorite.
As I come back to my senses, a thought occurs to me.
Maybe Marisela killed my father.
The constant undercurrent inside me compacts into a dark ball of concentrated fury. Heat washes over me, and for a second I smell something burning.
Prince Kaison interrupts the King, drawing everyone’s attention. “I hate to disappoint the many lovely ladies here tonight.” He opens a hand to the crowd where women openly preen, including my stepsisters.
It takes everything in me to pull away from the hellish memories to calm my turmoil at being nearthemenough to focus on Kaison’s words.
“But I have an announcement,” he says, taking another commanding step forward. “I have made an unexpected love match and have chosen my bride.”
I briefly wonder what other perfectly unsuitable bride he’s picked out to piss off daddy. She has to be a real piece of work.
Then Kaison’s eyes find mine in the crowd, hitting me like an arrow connecting with the bullseye of a target.
Oh.
Oh no.
A gloved hand stretches out toward me.
I clench my fists into tight balls.Don’t you dare fucking do it.
“Cinder Park, daughter of my father’s dearest friend Byung-He Park, has agreed to join me in holy matrimony and begin a new era in the Midnight Kingdom.”
Outraged and shocked mutters race through the room.
I’m keenly aware of my stepmother and stepsisters wheeling around to look at me again. Even enduring their eyes on my skin makes my stomach turn into a boiling cauldron of discomfort.
My vision blurs as my head becomes so light I fear it will float off my shoulders. In contrast, my body turns heavy and unbalanced.
