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“The only monster in this castle is you.”
PERIOD!
“I’ll kill him,” Midas threatens. “I’ll kill that spiked bastard, and your guard too.”
Sure, Jan.
“You know, it’s easier than people think to get ahead in this world. You just need the drive to do it.” He takes a long gulp before turning around to face me again, a drip of wine staining his lip. “Even a bastard drifter without two coins to rub together can make a name for himself. A name you’ve heard of, actually.”
He still got you!!! What a twist!
His smile is an accumulation of every sharpened edge piled in my chest. “And you’re ten years too late.”
Dang!
Midas looks pleased with himself, and maybe that’s what bothers me the most. The smug look on his face. As if he’s been waiting ten years to shove it in mine.
You can't trust blond men!
He ties it off with a thick knot, the satin-like strand digging into my skin painfully like a penance for losing them in the first place. For not being strong enough to stay whole beneath the might of this man who has hacked away at me, drained me, stole every piece of me.
Girl. What did you get into???
Prince Niven locks his hands around his throat, eyes gone wide in fear, just as someone in the crowd screams. The prince stumbles, and purple-cloaked Ranhold guards come rushing forward. With pure panic, his fingers claw down his neck—a neck that’s now lined with black veins spreading up toward his cheeks.
Oh snap! He pulled a Joffrey!
“He’s mine.” My voice is strong, unwavering. Just a vicious growl of protective fury.
Take claim girl! Stand by your man!
“You want to leave? To be the whore of King Rot?” Midas spits.
Yup!
“Better the whore to the man at my back than the favored to you.”
👌🏿👌🏿👌🏿👌🏿👌🏿
In his house the gold took up all of the room. He thought it a triumph. (But it was a tomb.)
