The room was bright, way too bright. Untangling myself from the sheets, I groaned and squinted my eyes against the morning sun beaming through the shades. We had drank far too much. Again. It seemed that it was becoming all too commonplace and the mornings after were never pleasant.

  Prior to taking the throne, it had been simple enough to feign partaking to the same extent as everyone else, but now all eyes were on me. If I seemed to be less enthusiastic in my drinking, then people assumed I was not content or the libations or food was of lesser quality and the mood was spoiled. Of course it was my prerogative to do as I pleased, however, keeping the servants and other commoners in high spirits made other things around the castle move more smoothly and I had to worry less about any sort of growing discontent.

  Despite understanding how all the celebrations benefitted securing my position of power, I could not figure out how my grandmother had survived as long as she did when expected to supply and partake in various occasions involving so much alcohol. It seemed that not even the birth of a new puppy in the castle could go un-celebrated. It was amazing that my grandmother could make any sort of level-headed decisions at all, though I supposed she was not particularly known for being level-headed.

  Finally on my feet, I shuffled to the window and angrily closed the gap in the thick fabric. The stark change in light allowed me to finally crack my eyes open with a sigh of relief. Now able to see more clearly, I made my way to the dressing table and plopped myself into the chair, picking up the pitcher of water. Delicious water flowed down my throat, instantly making my aching headache let up slightly to a more tolerable level of pain.

  “Pass the water,” Mistra moaned, her head still under the blankets.

  I crossed the room with a bit of a clumsy gate and set the pitcher on the stand next to her pillow. A hand appeared above the blankets and she pulled down the comforter away from her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, even her long lashes looked tangled and unkempt. Groaning in effort, she shimmed her way to a sitting position and blindly groped for the pitcher. I scooted the water closer and she lifted it to her flushed lips, drinking deeply.

  “We need to stop doing this all the time,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. I didn't dare speak any louder with my pounding headache. “We are killing ourselves.”

  “It is the burden of monarchs of our particular flavor,” she whispered back once she had her fill. “Unfortunately those before you have set a particular expectation that we must now fulfill."

  “What a burden it is,” I groaned. “I don't think I ever had more than a drink or two at these celebrations before being crowned, now people look to me to drink myself silly. If I don’t, then the mood sours and people start becoming discontent.”

  Pitcher back on the table, Mistra stretched her arms wide and sat up taller, dry lips already plumping from the infusion. She swept her hair from her face and pulled it back with her hands, tying it in a simple knot. I didn't understand how, but she could be having the worst hangover of her life and she would still look stunning. Her bronzed skin glowed like it was freshly sun-kissed, unmarred by age or accident, eyes still dark and alluring beneath her thick lashes. After a night of debauchery, it seemed like all she needed was a few minutes to recover, then she could continue the day with grace and beauty. I often wondered if her demon blood had something to do with her magical ability to recover.

  “You make me look like a slob these days,” I said with a chuckling sigh. “I find it difficult to tame my hair or rid myself of the dark circles under my eyes while you constantly glow with inner health and beauty. No matter how you might feel, you are a beautiful sight on the consort's throne. I wish that I could pull myself together to match, but I think it might be foolish to try to chase that ambition.”

  “Darling,” she cooed in a way that gave me goosebumps, “you are always beautiful, more so than any other woman I have met. Even though sometimes you look a little more worn than others, you still radiate power, vitality, and charm. I often feel plain knowing that everyone in the court sees you next to me.”

  She had been laying on the charm very thickly lately. I tried to be stoic and let it just wash over and past me, but I couldn’t deny that her words often set my heart beating a bit faster. I had made my choice of consorts simply out of the least dangerous and most appealing of the options I was presented with, but I would be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge that there was a part of me that yearned to have a real connection and feeling for Mistra.

  It was a dangerous notion, letting someone have that much sway over my emotions and I knew that most monarchs kept even their marriages more formal and transactional rather than based on some notion of love. While my mother may have been foolish enough to feel love for my father, I knew for certain just by his actions, that the feeling had not been returned. Even as his daughter, he could not bring himself to truly love me. Love is an emotion that could cripple an empire and make people entertain foolish ideas as they get led around by their heartstrings.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I should let you deal with all dealings involving a silver tongue,” I said with a light laugh. “You could charm a raven out of its beak and trade it to a snake for its scales.”

  Mistra leaned forward, placing a well-manicured hand on my arm. “I will never need to do that, your beauty alone wilts men and women alike and subverts them to your will. I can imagine that many will roll over their principles and interests for even just the barest hint that they may share a night with you. I'm afraid that my biggest position in this kingdom will be as a jealous partner, quietly clenching my teeth in rage as petitioners make thinly-veiled propositions.”

  Her words were so smooth and eloquent, flowing out of her mouth as silky as her ashen hair did down to the small of her back. I could not see how such a creature could fall for someone dull in comparison to her luminosity, therefore I could not quite believe in every smooth word she said. While there was that part of me that wanted to simply drink in the lovely compliments, I was trying to keep in mind that she was a woman of her own ambitions. Perhaps one of the most sound pieces of advice my grandmother had ever told me kept bubbling to the surface: keep one eye on your enemies, the other on those who adore you. Still, I had not yet seen any hint of desire to cause me ill in Mistra.

  “What are you pondering?” There was a spark of humor in her eyes, a look that belied that she had caught me in thinking of her.

  “Just old advice,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Nothing worth mentioning aloud.” I rose from the bed and went to the dressing table to pull a brush through my tangled hair.

  I did not want to get embroiled in the secrets of my emotions. Though I shared much more with my consort than I did with anyone else, save for Mari, there was a facade to maintain. It would be detrimental to my reputation if it were to get out that the queen didn't have a fully black heart that only craved revenge.

  Mistra hummed a sound that said she didn't believe me, but she didn't press any further. Instead, she joined me at the mirror, taking the brush from me and pulling it gently through the knots in my hair.

  “A queen does not have to brush her own hair or buckle her own corset, yet you routinely do,” she commented.

  “I never want anyone to mistake me for a do-nothing monarch. Besides, I think it's best to keep any unnecessary intrusion from the privacy of my chambers,” I explained. “I do not understand how my grandmother lived with so many servants and lovers popping in and out of the most intimate of spaces. It is difficult enough keeping the servants out of my business and one lover content.”

  “You presume that I am content.” Her voice was playful, but Mistra was not one to jest without some silver of hidden truth.

  “What could be done to ensure that you are content?” I asked.

  “Oh, it's nothing much really.” She finished pulling the brush through my hair and began to deftly braid my hair starting from the very top of my hairline. “I would perhaps enjoy having a magic trainer of my own. I would like to keep myself useful in the event that my aid is needed. Besides, there's just something fulfilling about being able to stretch your powers to their extent every so often.”

  “And Busby is not to your liking?” I questioned. “He is the finest tutor my grandmother could find.”

  “He's the best you can ask for if you're a human, but, my dear Toria, I am not quite human.” Her hands had made quick work of my hair and she was already at the very tips of my hair. “I believe I will require someone experienced with demon magic, it is rather a different experience. Not to diminish your family line's abilities, but your magic is more controlled and linear, demons burn with pure magical chaos.”

  “Do you have anyone in mind?” It was almost a pointless question, she would not have brought up the subject if she hadn't already carefully considered her choices.

  “There is a man whom I think would be agreeable,” she said, stepping to the side so that she could use the mirror as well. “He is not a demon, but some other... atrocity, but he commonly works with demons and has seen more of magic in all of its forms than many. My father has employed him several times when there was a particularly complex magical dilemma.”

  Glancing at her in the mirror, the sides of her lips twitched into a knowing smile that she had caught me admiring her. With a wink, she took out the kohl and began to line her eyes, accentuating the slight upwards tilt of the outside corner of her eyes.

  “Do you think he will agree to live on the castle grounds and that your father will let him out of his service?” I questioned. “I would like to avoid doing anything to incur your father's wrath, I have a feeling that it would be rather difficult to calm him down again.”

  “This man is not technically in my father's service, he is more of a traveling teacher who so happens to show up exactly when he is needed,” she explained. “I also do not think it would be difficult to convince him to stay a while with us. Despite being rather skilled and knowledgeable in demon magic, he has often complained about the atmosphere in that realm. I have heard that he is not from the demon realm at all, but has settled there out of an abundance of work.”

  “It seems that you have already figured everything out,” I commented while dabbing the red stain carefully into the confines of my lips. “Of course you assumed that I would agree and indulge your desire.”

  “As you do so many others.” For the briefest of moments, her eyes met mine in the mirror and she very subtly, but seductively bit her bottom lip. “But you are correct that I thought you might agree, so much so that I've already sent word for him to make the journey here so that you might meet him and find him agreeable.”

  Any other member of my court acting so confident of my decision and being so unabashedly presumptuous would have found themselves in a private dungeon room, but Mistra knew that I would likely not consider punishment for her. She was clever and understood that while I tried to be a cold-hearted woman, I also had my own selfish desires. Mistra obviously knew that she was on the path to obtain a key place in my selfish motivations and that she wielded a sort of power over me. It was the kind of power that made men forfeit their own power and fortune foolishly for the love of a woman. It was lucky for me that I was not a man, but a woman, and I could see the path to where I had all the power, all the fortune, and Mistra contently at my side.