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The two didn’t seem to hear her over their heated argument.They tossed around the title “queen” as if it didn’t come with a thousand strings attached, all wrapping around her to drag her down, down, down into the same pit as the mad king.
Fury filled her, stealing her reason and the polite veneer.“I said stop it.I’m no queen.”
“But you are by blood,” Perry said.
Petra smirked.“Like he said.”
Vori walked away.It was her only option unless she wanted to risk losing her temper, her grip on this crazy situation.She needed a quiet place to think, to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do.
“Let’s talk about this.”Perry stepped in front of her, holding out his palms.At least he’d had the good sense not to touch her.Or he was afraid of her.She hoped it was the first but knew it was probably the latter.
“Talk about what?”she asked.
“You’re the legitimate ruler.The rightful one.”
“Why should I talk when you don’t listen?I told you I don’t want it.”
“It’s not a choice.You’re their fated queen.”
Her heart ached, and her stomach twisted.“You don’t see a problem with that?”
“No, I literally joined an evil demon organization because I was destined to match with a royal.”
She’d been punched in the gut, clawed in the face, and had her shoulder ripped out of its socket all in the last day, but none of that compared with the pain shooting through her now.Followed by numbness.Horrible, hollow emptiness.“And so you have.Get out of my way, Perry.”
She ran, ignoring everyone she passed until she reached the one room that hadn’t been touched since the day she left—her mother’s.Pushing through the door, she skirted the broken glass and headed to the vanity.It was a pretty piece of furniture, ivory and gold with an oval mirror that still had handwritten notes stuck to the edges.She sat on the stool her mom had used to get ready for the day.
Glancing at the rolltop desk and its papers and journals, she wasn’t brave enough to go there yet, to face the work her mother had done as a queen consort.No, for a moment, she simply wanted to be where her mom had been, to occupy the same space.
She traced the mirror with her fingers, stopping to read the notes her mother had left behind.Lines of poetry.Proverbs.Little drawings.One slipped and fell to the floor.Beneath where it’d been was a crack in the mirror with reddish-brown smudges.Blood?She rubbed her thumb over it, and the damn thing pricked her.
“Ow.”She popped the cut into her mouth.The mirrors in the room would need to be replaced.Everything else looked in order.
The gold-handled brushes and combs lined one tray, crystal perfume bottles another.A drawer was open a fraction of an inch.She tugged, and it stuck.The small table wobbled.Determined now, she yanked.Hard.Not goblin strength hard, but enough that the drawer opened with a loud thud.
The smell of wild flowers hit her, not overpowering, not after all this time.But one of her mother’s sachets that she’d tucked in with her clothes had been left behind.A signature scent, her mom had called it.Memories flooded Vori.Of things she wished she’d done, things she wished she’d said, things she couldn’t undo.
“They don’t understand.”She felt silly, talking to an empty room.But she needed to say this out loud, to own her fears even if she was the only one who heard.“I can’t be who they want me to be.”
“Hello, Princess.”The rich feminine voice came from the mirror.“Finally, you’ve come to visit me.”The glass smoked and darkened, a pulsing image appearing one flicker at a time.A massive throne that would make any goblin jealous of so much lovely gold appeared along with a gorgeous, cruel-faced fae.“Or is it Your Majesty now?”
