Alice Cowan smiled, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. She gingerly picked up the sheet of paper on her desk, trailing her fingers over the lines of the drawing. Two stick figures, both with massive eyes and long curly hair. Their stick arms joined together with scribbles to show they were holding hands and a bright red heart in between them. It was beautiful, representing the bond of mother and daughter.
Alice fought to keep her hands steady, sliding the drawing into a photo frame. She flipped it over a few times and shifted the drawing around, making sure it fit perfectly and there wasn’t a wrinkle in it. Once she was satisfied, she picked it up by wood, being careful not to smudge the glass. Her baby blue heels clinked on the marble floor as she exited her office and walked into the gallery. The lights were turned off, and it had been closed for a few hours now. Normally she would have put up new work as soon as they closed when the other employees were still around. But this was more personal…and she needed to be alone.
As she walked through the square space, she passed by many different drawings and paintings. Portraits, landscapes, abstracts, and then some. She even had some of her own work in the gallery.
When she got to her section, she paused in front of one painting in particular. A landscape, featuring herself and little girl. Her Ella. Barely even six years old in the art. They were standing next to each other holding hands in a pasture full of green grass and flowers of every color. She swallowed once, fighting back the trembling of her lip and moved to a spot right next to it, hanging up the drawing. Her stomach flipped in circles as she took a tag out of her pocket and placed it by the drawing. “Ella Cowan - 2014 - 2021”.
A ragged sob escaped her throat and she dropped to her knees. Minutes, hours passed. She didn’t know. Vaguely aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks, Alice wiped the tears from her face and pushed to her feet. She took one more look at the drawing and painting. Ella wanted to be an artist too. She would always copy Alice’s paintings, trying to be like Mama.
Alice smoothed out her dress. Ella was just like her mother. Better. Innocent and happy. This would be a small comfort. Help her sleep at night, knowing that a small part of Ella would live on here in a place she loved, right next to her mama.
Prince Ameron may have kept perfect time with her, but Cecaylia commanded the attention of the ballroom. She glided across the floor, never missing a step. Her skirts shimmered and flowed around her ankles as the music slowly built to a climax.
Cecaylia smiled at the Prince, never taking her gaze from his. He smiled back, a mischievous glint in his too-warm brown eyes. She felt his grip at her waist tighten, bringing her body closer to his own. In response she tightened her own. By the hitch of his breath she knew he liked that.
Cecaylia loved dancing. Some would say she was so skilled it was her greatest weapon. But tonight, she could not wait for final measure of the music. She already knew how the song ended and had heard it many times before; an explosion of music with a perfect opening for a finishing lift. It was beautiful, yet she wanted to be done and rid of this place as soon as possible. Tonight—tonight was different. She had a job to do, and she would not fail.
As the music reached its height, the prince spun her around in a complicated lift no amateur could complete. During the spin, confetti began to rain down from above. This was the signal. The second her feet touched the ground she broke away from the prince, racing towards the door to the gardens. People gasped and cried out in confusion. The dance was breathtaking. They couldn’t understand why she’d just left. It was completely improper.
When Cecaylia was standing in the doorway, a match appeared in her hand. She struck it against her corset, lighting a flame and tossed it back into the room before disappearing out the door. The partygoers were too focused on the dismayed prince and his runaway lady. The flame barely grazed a piece of the confetti and the entire ballroom blasted into flames. Not even screams of bloody murder of every single person exploding into fiery bits could be heard over the sound. In a matter of seconds, at least a hundred people were dead and nothing but rubble and flames remained. The music had come to its close.
Meg’s lips tingled, feeling numb as Kry pulled away, resting his forehead on her own. Her eyes widened, and he peered down at her with those deep blue eyes, not once breaking her gaze. Her stomach jumped around, tying itself in knots. She could barely speak, couldn’t move. The numbing sensation trickling it’s way down her whole body. Meg leaned her head back to take in his whole face. She parted her mouth in question not knowing what else to do. Kry pulled her closer to him, gently embracing her with strong arms.
“I don’t know why,” His voice was deep and husky. “I just couldn’t help myself.” He reached in between them and began to slowly slide the dagger out from beneath her rib cage. It made a sickening noise, blood rushed out everywhere.
Meg trembled. Pain searing through her bones as a small cry echoed from her lips. Black spots started to swim about making it harder to focus on Kry’s horribly beautiful face. It was hard to stand, her knees were wobbling, the only thing that kept her up were his arms.
“I truly am sorry, Love,” he went down to his knees, moving her limp body into his lap. He brushed a hand down her cheek, so gently it was like he was afraid to break her. He stopped his hand, picking up a lock of her hair, twisting a curl around his finger. “It doesn’t make this any better, but I do truly love you.”
And the worst part of it all was that until her dying breath, she believed him.
Krytotz looked up from his phone and narrowed his eyes at the woman before him. The room became so heavy with his magic a mortal could suffocate in it.
Meg looked up at him with an infuriating twinkle in her green eyes as a laugh escaped her lips.
“Who would have thought a thousand year old deity would be so bad at text-pool,”
Krytotz huffed an irritated sigh, “it’s because of this infernal device. It’s nothing compared to the real thing.” He turned off the device and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat. He could beat her in real pool given the opportunity. Not some stupid phone version of it.
Meg smiled broadly. “Sore loser, Kry?” She leaned forward and made a show of waving her hands towards her face and sniffing the air. “I can practically smell your jealousy of my text-pool skills oozing off of you.”
Krytotz’s eyes widened and he instantly drew his magic back. Meg noticed right away and raised a well-groomed brow.
“Evil woman. Let me try your hand at the real thing. Then we’ll see who’s oozing jealousy.” He grinned. She has no chance. He spent plenty enough time in solitude watching and waiting. Learned enough skills from others.
Meg stood up and put her phone in her back pocket. “It’s a date,”
Krytotz didn’t miss the way her eyes widened slightly before she steeled her features back to a small smile.
Kry narrowed his eyes as she started to bite her lip. “Date?” He stood up and took a step towards her. It was moments like these he wished he could wipe the wolf from existence. She didn’t mean to say date. He knew that. But he couldn’t help but wonder why things like that slipped out if she truly loved Maesen.
Meg’s smile dropped. “As friends Kry. Next time I can get away.” She shoved her hands into her pocket and rocked back on her heels.
Deities this sucks. Next time she can get away? He forced a sly smile on his lips and took a few more steps towards her. Close enough that he could almost feel her shallow breaths brush his face. “And why not now? A short walk to the portal room and we could be wherever you want in an instant.”
Meg scrunched her nose but didn’t move to take a step back. “You know why. It’s disrespectful.”
Krytotz leaned forward. He expected her to move back or turn away but she didn’t. This woman.
“I can’t decide what’s more disrespectful. Gong now with him knowing or going later with him not.”
He took a moment to look her up and down, trying not to linger on her assets on display. His gaze stopped on her sage green eyes. Deities help him she was beautiful. He felt the aura shift to something dark and hungry. He wasn’t quite sure which one of them caused it. He leaned down until he was a breadth of an inch from her lips.
“Or the fact that you’ve caused the room to start oozing with desire,” he played on her words from earlier, “and dare I say sex?”
Meg’s breath hitched in the slightest. Most wouldn’t have even noticed. But most weren’t like him.
“Kry,” her voice took on a low sultry tone, “the only thing I’m sensing is your massive ego.”
He shook his head. “Then why all of the secrecy? Why not invite wolfie along?”
This time Meg stepped back and furrowed her brows. “Stop trying to butt into my personal life.”
He rolled his eyes. “So it’s not a valid question? And it’s not like I haven’t been there before.”
Meg made a move to leave but with half a thought he appeared in front of her blocking the door. She sent him a look that shot daggers.
“Maesen was there for me at a time no one else was. A time that you caused actually. We share a connection—“
“—that you have with no one else, he helped put you back together, etc. etc. I was there too Meg.” He pointed at her head. “That doesn’t explain why you still feel the need to run around and hide.”
She made to move past him but he stood like a stone wall. “Get out of my way.” Like hell.
“Just answer me this.”
“What?” She spat.
“Do you love him?”
“I—“ her eyes moved to spot above his shoulder. “—yes.”
