19: SECURITY PROBLEM
749 Words
PHEEONA.
I stormed back into the cathedral with a fury I didn't think my body could hold.
I'd never been this upset in my entire life. Not even close. Every step toward the back room felt like it was fueled by something white-hot, something that had been building since the moment Vizellan opened his mouth at that altar and unraveled everything I thought I'd secured.
I found them waiting.
Watching me.
I didn't give them the chance to say a single word before I reached up and ripped the crown off my head, ornaments and all, the weight of it suddenly unbearable against my skull.
"Stop looking at me," I shouted.
Crowen ignored the outburst entirely. "We did you a favor."
The words sent me into a complete frenzy.
I turned, glaring at him, repeating it back with every ounce of incredulity I had left in me. "A favor?"
I threw the crown across the room.
It hit the wall with a sharp, ugly crack, beading and ornaments scattering across the marble floor in a mess of gold and gemstone, the sound of it ringing out far louder than I expected.
A muscle moved in Crowen's jaw.
He held my gaze for a long second before turning toward the staff still lingering near the edges of the room.
"Everyone out," he said.
They cleared the room instantly, doors shutting behind the last of them, leaving just the four of us standing in the wreckage of my discarded crown.
I didn't stop.
"You did me a favor?" I spat. "You just took away my family's legacy. You just took away everything they've worked their entire lives for."
"Are you not a part of your family?" Vizellan asked, voice maddeningly calm. "Doesn't the legacy still continue, with you as queen?"
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.
"Please. Spare me the semantics." My voice cracked with the force of how badly I wanted to scream. "By naming me queen, you mean I'm just that. Queen in name only. Your f*****g fake, misleading title. Those are formalities. You'll give me no say. No power. No control over anything that actually matters."
I took a breath, trying to steady myself, and tried to run my hands through my hair out of sheer habit. My fingers caught immediately, tangled in braids and pins and the gel someone had used to keep every strand perfectly in place for a ceremony that had turned out to be nothing but theater.
I huffed in pure frustration and dropped onto the settee beside one of the dressers, exhaustion finally catching up with the anger.
"I never even wanted this," I breathed. "I never wanted to rule." I looked up at all three of them. "You claim you've done me a favor, but it's absolute shit."
I needed to be away from here.
Away from them. From the crown. From the wreckage of every promise that had apparently meant nothing the moment it became inconvenient.
I stood.
"Don't follow me," I said.
Then I walked out of the room before any of them could respond.
The reception was still in full swing when I made it back out, music and laughter and the clinking of glasses pressing in from every direction. I scanned the crowd, looking for Anyssa, needing her familiar face like a lifeline.
I didn't find her right away.
What I did find were guards. Two of them, trailing a careful distance behind me, clearly under instructions to keep track of where I went.
Irritation flared hot and immediate.
I changed direction, ducking through a service door I had no business knowing existed, weaving through narrow staff corridors and out into the garden trimmings beyond, moving fast, moving with purpose, putting distance between myself and anyone who thought they were entitled to watch my every move tonight.
The garden opened up the further I went, hedges giving way to looser trees, the music from the reception fading into something distant and muffled.
I checked behind me.
No guards.
I'd lost them.
I came out through a small clearing, breathless, chest heaving, a strange triumphant grin breaking across my face despite everything that had happened tonight. For one single, stupid second, I felt like I'd won something. Like I'd taken back even the smallest sliver of control.
The grin didn't last.
A thick bag came down hard over my head before I even registered movement behind me, fabric forced tight around my face, darkness swallowing everything whole.
- Writer
