Cruel King (Royal Elite 0)

Clifford’s princess and I will have another duel once she’s sober and can handle me.

Now… I smile as I open the door and return to the team.

It’s time for my summer gift to Uncle.

4

Astrid

Not only I bled, but you also left me for dead.

* * *

My fists bang on the door for what seems like hours.

It's like there’s no soul behind the door.

No answer.

No nothing.

I slide down to the stairs, regaining my breathing.

So much weird energy buzzes through me like there’s a party going on through my organs. I want to jump and run — preferably at the same time.

I don’t know where this place is, but it’s dark. The only light comes from the main house in the distance. Something Just Like This by Coldplay and The Chainsmokers from the party.

Normally, I’d make sure there’s no one in my immediate vicinity, but normal isn’t today.

I jump up and start dancing, twirling between the bushes and riding the wave coursing through my veins.

If someone is invincible enough to jump to the sky then it’s me.

The music seeps under my skin and tightens my muscles. My tank top sticks to my back with sweat the more I twirl and shake my hips like Mum and I used to.

Pressure builds behind my eyes at the memory of her — or the lack thereof. It’s been two years and she’s becoming more and more like a fog. Her smile is disappearing and the positive energy she taught me is replaced by a deep gloom now.

While dancing, I pull the underside of my forearm in the direction of the light. It’s not clear, but I can almost see the tiny tattoos of a sun, a moon, and a star.

She made the star black because I’m her ‘Star’. She said she named me Astrid because it means an Old Norse star, a super strength that she needed when she had me.

The tattoo is the last memory I have of her.

If I didn’t ask her to come pick me up from the art class late at night, if I didn’t throw a tantrum when she told me the news, maybe she’d be here now.

Maybe I won’t be stuck with Dad and his entitled last name.

If I got her out of the car in time, if I called for help in time…

I screw my eyes shut against the grief and what-ifs. My shrink said guilt-shaming will only consume me without offering a solution. Still, the wave of crushing guilt is as constant as every breath I take. It’s lodged in the dark corners of my heart and my soul.

It feels like yesterday. The smell of smoke, burnt flesh, and metallic blood.

So much fucking blood.

I continue swaying to the music with lesser energy. My arms wrap around my middle and I open my eyes, chasing the ‘guilt-shaming’ away.

I want to take off my clothes and take a dip in the pool.