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Flies swarmed over the trash that hadn’t been taken out since only the gods knew when. Fluids of all different types dried in puddles and molding films on the long bar top. Drunken patrons didn’t mind the less than sanitary conditions. Once I hadn’t either, but something had changed. I couldn’t view this bar as what it had once been for me: an escape.
Nothing here felt right and nothing helped to settle my thoughts that raged like a storm. Chatter rose and fell as conversations picked up and drifted away while the patrons flitted around the bar. Their dull roar was never enough to drown out my thoughts.
My eyes burned as sleep had eluded me last night. The lack of rest left its mark in the red rims and dark circles that surrounded my dull gaze. My head slipped from the fisted hand that propped it up, nearly making my chin dip into some yellow liquid under my cup.
Gods, I hope it isn’t piss.
Everything had turned to piss in my life. I frowned as I lifted my head and looked around. This bar had been everything to me before. A small freedom from a reality I was convinced I didn’t want. Now that it was gone and I could never return to my home, something in me felt wrong. Broken.
Never again would my eyes trace the brush strokes of the paintings that lined our near-empty halls. Never again would I find myself tirelessly busy with tutors or trainers. My body wouldn’t rest upon the finery of my bed or grace the expensive clothing stocked in my wardrobe. Nothing was mine anymore. My childhood memories were now just that, memories.
'Prince' wasn’t a title I carried anymore, and without it, I was an enigma. Dace. My name was simply Dace. It felt incomplete without the title.
Passing Fae still stared at me, though none tried to greet me. It was a quiet, curious glance as they tried to see what I would become. My parents had been gracious enough to excuse prison time and instead sent me out to live on the streets, without help. Sometimes I had the thought that maybe the dungeons would have been best. At least there I was provided meals, unlike on the street where I didn’t have a cent to my name and no one wanted to take in a ‘traitor’ as an apprentice.
All that remained of the refuge was smoke and ash. Footprints in the snow were overlapped and confusing to look at. I couldn’t count the number of Nymphs who had gotten away. The bodies remained though. I couldn’t bring myself to count that number either. Guilt made my stomach turn painfully like I had stabbed myself with a dagger and twisted.
Finally, I let my face fall against the counter, ignoring the pang of disgust at myself for letting my cheek touch the bar top. When my eyes blinked shut the image of crisp blistered bodies surfaced. The sour scent of burned bark and flesh still somehow stuck inside my nose. I squeezed my eyes closed tightly before opening them back up.
Nothing mattered right now. Everything I was, everything I did, was a disappointment.
The day had continued without me, moving slower than I thought. Time did not move quickly when all you did was stare at the back of a bar. The bartenders were not caring enough to make conversation with me when they knew I wasn’t good for any money.
At my side, two men sat on the empty barstools. The chairs squealed against the floor as they pulled them underneath themselves.This was rock bottom. My ultimate disgrace.
“Did you hear about the Heathern Court?” the shorter man said to his friend, who opted for an ale with a single lift of a finger, following the motion by dropping coin onto the counter.
The waitress moved to serve them without hesitation, a knowing smile ready on her face. Regular customers, I thought the longer I looked. A pair I may have even seen lose to Shavarra in a round of cards.
My eyebrows rose as I listened intently. I wasn’t in the know with my family anymore; mere gossip would be all that I had to hold on to. Ugh, I hated to resort to eavesdropping, but there I was.
“Oh, by the gods, yes,” the friend mumbled.
“King Ganglin was right; those Nymphs are a threat to us.” The short friend’s voice was harsh, edged with concern and worry. My fists clenched in my lap at his belief.“Some are saying King Ganglin has fled his court or that the Nymphs have him captive right now torturing him slowly.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you? Either way, he had it coming. I’m just in awe of how quickly they took over his castle. Do you think our court will send help to aid him?”
I blinked.What? Nymphs took over the Heathern Court castle? King Ganglin is gone?The light of hope bloomed in my chest.
“What did you just say?” I sat up, ripping my face off the counter with a disturbing peeling sound. Tentatively, I brushed my fingers over my reddened cheek.
“There, uh, was an attack on the Heathern Court. Nymphs currently hold the castle.”
His words repeated in a chorus inside my head. They had done it. Someone had finally made a move and the Nymphs were fighting back. My heart skipped a beat and then another. My pulse raced with a spike of adrenaline.
“Holy fuck. Are you serious?” I gaped.
Together they nodded, concern evident in their furrowed brows. Their judgment of me no longer mattered. This homeless, hopeless, place where I found myself no longer mattered.
Slowly, my lips stretched into a large smile. The men before me exchanged a worried look. It suddenly didn’t feel like the end anymore. I knew I looked insane, I just didn’t care.
I’m not out of the game yet; I just have to get where I’m truly meant to be, and it isn’t here.
“You look like you could use a drink,” a feminine voice said over my shoulder.
The two men’s eyes snagged on the woman, their eyes caught on her hourglass form, eating her up like she was dessert. Her face remained hidden in the shadow of her hood, her body curling into itself ever so slightly as she shied away from their attention. Lifting my lip in a small snarl, I pulled their attention from her. They turned away with a roll of their eyes and continued their conversation more quietly. I twisted to meet her soft golden eyes, her short blonde bangs brushing against her eyelashes.
“I don’t have money. I’m not here to purchase a tart,” I mumbled waving her away. If she was a whore, she was a poor one at that. She should have picked her target better. Maybe she didn’t realize I had been dethroned. Maybe she lived under a fucking rock.
