The Queen of All that Dies (The Fallen World, #1)

by Laura Thalassa

My breath hitches. “I think you’ve confused passion with compassion.” “No, I haven’t.” His eyes glitter, and I have to remind myself that he’s a sick human being, because right now all I’m noticing are his expressive eyes and sensual mouth. “Compassion is showing kindness towards the man who killed your mother.” “You want to see compassion? Fine.” I take the hand pressed against my shoulders and kiss his knuckles. “I’ve now kissed the hand of my mother’s killer.” Before he has time to react to my chaste kiss, I bring my other hand up and slap him. His head whips to the side. “I’m also a vindictive bitch,” I say.

“You were able to kill him,” Will said. You, a girl. That’s what he meant. Like owning a vagina made me inferior in some fundamental way.

The day of the wedding I sleep in. Normally I’m loathe to waste away the first hours of the morning, but not today. Today I want to forget that I have to get married. To the king. I make a face in my pillow. People have been knocking on my door for the last two hours, and up until now I’ve done a pretty good job of ignoring them. But the pounding on my door right now is louder and more insistent than the others. When I don’t answer, the pounding stops. I smile into my pillow until I hear the click of my lock being thrown back. The door opens and footsteps cross the room. My bed dips as someone sits down on it, and then I feel the feathery touch of fingertips on the bare skin of my shoulder. “You need to get up now.” My eyes snap open at that voice. “I thought you were ignoring me?” I say to King Montes. He’s leaning over me, and his nearness is doing strange things to my body. I haven’t seen him since that night in the ocean. “When it comes to you, that’s impossible.” I bury my face in my pillow. “I want to sleep in.” “We’re getting married in two hours.” “Don’t care,” I say, my voice muffled. “Fine. We’ll skip the wedding part and go straight to the honeymoon.” He pulls back the covers and begins to slide in next to me. I yelp and jump out of bed.

I’m wearing a dress I didn’t pick out, holding flowers I don’t care for, wearing makeup and hair someone else has styled, and I’m waiting to be married to a man I don’t love because of orders someone else gave.

“Do you even have any real friends?” I say. “These people make me want to blow my brains out.”

Right when I assumed I was the loneliest creature in the world, I find out I might matter to someone.

“How long have I been out?” I ask. “Not long, although now the entire hospital knows you snore.” I narrow my eyes. “I don’t snore.” The king smiles slyly. “You’re not the one who has to fall asleep next to you each evening.” “Most people bring their loved ones gifts; instead you bring your effortless charm.”

“I am not leaving this building on a stretcher,” I growl out. Over my dead body would that happen. I glare up at the hallway’s florescent bulbs as I’m wheeled out. Around me several guards push the gurney, and I swear they’re suppressing smiles. Pricks.

I am Isolde, I am Juliet, I am Guinevere. I am every one of those idiots because I’ve fallen for the king.