If she asks me about my exes, I still don’t think I’m going to ask about hers.-KingRichard
She hasfucking wasps – as pets.
Seventeen of them.
It’sa good thing she’sgoing to be executedthenbecausefucking hel, she’s going tobe the death of me.
My lips twitch as I walk through the house, but itisn’tin the smile gallows humour normallybringson.Jaceisright.I’mgetting too attached –risking my life over the tears of someone on death row.If I can’t ignore them now, how am I going to ignore them when I’m cutting her open?The queen or king is responsible for executions, and if they can’t do it, if they can’t prove that their loyalty lies to the kingdom in whatever way it needs, then they’ll be executed too – by the next person in line for the throne.
And Nicholas, despite everyone he’s lost and everything he’s gone through with his own wife, he has still held on to hishumanity.But if he carries out an execution, he will lose it.I know because that’s how I lost the last ember of my own soul.I cannot be the reason he loses his – not after I’ve failed him so many times already.
But the idea of backing offnow, of not knowingAriennaat all before her death – somehow that seems worse.
A harsh buzzcuts through my thoughts.I hit the release mechanism on the knife strapped to my forearm.Itshootsforward smoothly, flawlessly; I grab hold of its hilt before itcanpass my hand.Armed, I turn towards the noise and find a wasp the size of my fucking chest.
It’s behind a closed door – but one full of holes, and as it locks eyes with me, it startssqueezingthrough.Fuck.That is definitely blood all over its face and mandibles.
Popping the lid off the bottle of ambrosia, I pour asplashontothe floor.The house near vibratesas soon as the sweet scent hitsthe air.Thunderous buzzing fillsthe back of the houseand echoes from down the stairs.The waspatthe door crawlsall the way through,andI raise my knife in preparation for a fight to the death.
Ignoring me completely, it landson the ground and startsto drink.I grip my knife tightly, but it never even looksat me.Keeping one eye on it, I glance aroundthe place.
The bottom floor lies within the stem of her mushroom-shaped house.It’s hexagonal, with the front door leading into a keyhole hallway with light, washed-out blue tiles on the floor and sun-touched walls of gold.A dark wooden door sits on both sides of me, set into a delicately carved arch of orange and teal.Thedooron my right is made of more holes than material thanks to the wasp that’scrawled through it.The one onmy left doesn’t look much better, and I cautiously peer inside to find a sitting room bathed inthe blood oftwowasps.I don’t know how much blood a wasp has, but I can seetwocorpses, so I reckon that’s about right.
Figuring the monster beside me must’ve killedthem, I slowly move out of its way, leaving it to its drink.At the landing of thestairs,are two more doorsbehind the spiral staircase.A lot of buzzing is coming from behind theone on the left, butitdoesn’tlook too damaged.It’ll take the wasp time to chewitsway through, but if anything’s free on thesecondfloor, then I risk getting ambushed if I don’t deal with them first.So Iflyup slowly,the stairs too ruined to use, andlisten intently.
Thesecond flooropensout onto a pentagon landing with five doors.Two of them are as good as gone, buttheir rooms are also empty; I’m guessing they used to house thewasps that are now dead downstairs.Moving backtothe landing, I go toeach of thetwodoors that have waspschewingon them from the other side.I pour them some ambrosia, and their madness ends as soonas they start todrink.
I stop at the third door – the only one without damage.My ears straining, I listen for any sounds within.
Nothing.
I hesitate, deciding if I should kick the door down or if I should risk putting down either my knife or the ambrosia to try the handle.On one hand, her house is already ruined.On the other, I don’t want to add to it.Ignoring Jace’s curse in my head, I trigger the mechanism that slides my knife back in its sheath, then open the door slowly.I’m ready to slam it shut at a moment’s notice, but when I get it open halfway, I realise there’s nothing in here.
Or rather, no monsters.
And that causes me to laugh in relief.Because this is her bedroom, and my subconscious was playing all these horrid nightmares in the back of my mind given monster fucking isn’t exactly uncommon in Brownston.
And though I know that not every brownie has the samekinks, but shelives with wasps.What was I supposed to think?Who the fuck would want them in their house if they didn’t have a thing for them?What other purpose could they possiblyhave?
But no.She locked them out of her room.And fucking hel is that a relief.
Making my way down the stairs, I give some ambrosia to thewasp I ignored earlier.Then I head back over to Wasp One.It’s stumbling around even as it continues to drink.Itsmandibles twitch back and forth as its fuzzy black antennas move every so often.
How my wife hasa heart big enough to care for this ugly thing, Idon’tknow.I studyitfor a few more seconds,trying to see what she sees, but nope,it’sstill ugly.And its stingerismassive.Forget dyingfromits venom; it’llskewer her in half.
Shaking my head, I pour the rest of the bottle out by the door and exit the house.
“How long does it take for the ambrosia toknock them out?”I ask, walking towards her.
“A couple minutes,” shesays, worry in her voice and eyes.“You didn’t hurt any of them, did you?”
“No, but a few of them managed to get out and kill each other.”
She pales, and Ishakemy head.No wonder shecameback after how I treated heron our weddingnight.She befriendswasps.In comparison, Iama fucking treat.
“Arienna, love!”My bloodheatsat the sound of a man’s voice saying her name with too much familiarity.Pulling her against my side, I turn to face the obnoxious asshole.
He’staller than me.Blond hair.Blue eyes.Not a piercing on him.He looksexactly like a man I’dpictureher withif I hadn’talready claimed her.
