A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 2)

“You don’t propose to someone if it was nothing.” I rolled my eyes. “But it’s fine. It doesn’t matter. He was always going to marry a princess or a noble or a queen or something. I’ve always known that.”

“Oh, you’re carrying on about that plain faerie lady I made all those dresses for, eh? Is that what this is about? Bah!” Cecil batted at the air. “What was he doing with a faerie, anyway? I’ll never know. Especially one who tried to cover up her plainness with hideous dresses. I saw the pictures. My eyes bled making those dresses. They bled. I had to take breaks just so I could see again, they were so clouded by the terrible designs.”

“Okay, overdramatic, calm down a bit,” Hadriel mumbled.

“Overdramatic? What do you know about it, you wispy-haired fuckbumper? You were stuck in the back stables trying to suck your own dick when this was all coming to pass. You didn’t know what was going on.”

“And I would’ve been able to suck my own dick if I’d been lounging around as much as you do,” Hadriel replied.

“No. The master did not want that woman for himself—he wanted her to spit in his father’s eye, that’s what he wanted,” Cecil went on, shooing the others away and herding me toward the stand in the center of the room.

“I don’t think he expected the faerie noble to spit in his father’s eye,” Hadriel drawled.

“It is an expression, you no-love-monkey-punch. An expression!”

“I have only had a no-love-monkey-punch once, you awful jackass, and it wasn’t on purpose.” Hadriel held up his fist, his face turning red. “How was I supposed to know he’d called my name just so he could shoot jizz on my face! I didn’t know why he’d pulled out and then called my name, so I looked back. Anyone would’ve done it! Just that one time, though. I don’t care what you’ve heard. It was just that one time! I learned my lesson, damn it!”

Cecil leaned back and guffawed.

“Wait…a what?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“The master was just rebelling,” Leala said, looking through the dresses hung on a stand in the corner. Not a frill or flourish could be found on any of them. They looked like plain fabric waiting for the seamster’s touch. I hoped that was the case, too. It meant I wouldn’t have to wear them anytime soon.

“Yes. Rebelling. I heard all the gossip from the ladies in waiting.” Cecil winked up at me. “That faerie had her own motives. She wanted his touch with the everlass. His song. If he resided in their kingdom, the everlass would follow. He has a special way with it. It responds to his touch, his song even more than it did to the queen. He was always the golden son, and it showed with the everlass.”

“Well, she might’ve been using him, or so people thought, but he wasn’t using her.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He’s been very clear on where he stands. I just need to accept the truth.”

“What truth?” Leala asked, and the others slowed their chatter, looking at me.

“There is nothing between us,” I said.

“But he bit you,” Hadriel said.

“No.” Cecil straightened up and leaned way too close, grabbing the plain dress I’d worn in at the shoulder and pulling it wide. “No bite…”

“On her neck.” Leala tapped her own neck. “The mark is gone now—it wasn’t a claiming mark. He’s done it twice, though. The temptation is there.”

“The neck?” Cecil’s face pinched. “Why the neck? The neck does no good.”

“He will not be claiming me,” I said. “Can we hurry this along, Cecil? I want to get to the library.”

“Why not?” Hadriel asked. “He likes you. I’ve seen how he looks at you. How he treats you.”

“Because he has a fiancée.” Anger was starting to rise, and my animal roiled within me. “Because I don’t want him to. Because I’m common. Because this could never work. Take your pick. The only reason anything has ever happened between us is because of our animals. The animals want each other.”

So do the humans, my animal thought, and I ignored her.

“Well, that is good. Our beasts always know.” Cecil grabbed my dress at the bottom and started to work it up over my head.

I clutched at it. “Um…no.”

Cecil paused. “What do you mean, no? I need to see my dresses on you. You can’t wear some sort of…artist smock while I fit you.”

“It’s one of my outing dresses, thank you very much,” Leala muttered. I curled my lips under, not having known that.

“I need to see your form,” he persisted.

“Then use a slip or some undergarments like Eliza did,” I said. “I’m not getting naked in front of you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I have seen it. I have seen large breasts, small breasts, breasts that hang down low, man breasts, hairy man breasts…all kinds. I’ve seen vagins, too. Do you want to know all the vagins I have seen that I didn’t want to see these past…too many years? Bald vagins, hairy vagins, vagins with strange designs—”