Oh, it all made sense.
The kings were lunatics.
Frankly, I was too depressed to deal with them.
Malum’s flames shot higher in the air. “Take it off now or I’ll burn it off you. Slave.”
There was that charming personality.
“No,” John growled from the floor as he massaged his throat.
Flames screamed in the fireplace. Curtains blew dramatically because the stained-glass windows were opened wide, presumably to help with the stench.
I’d have recommended a flower-scented perfume if I’d thought it would help.
I didn’t bother to respond.
You couldn’t reason with crazy.
Pressing my palms against my eyes, I crawled off the bed and stomped past the kings into the bathroom. My limbs ached, and I swore I could feel the blood rushing through my abused arteries.
I was in too much pain for their games.
Not that they’d ever see me flinch.
I donned the stony mask of the fae queen and stepped around the bloody pads and piles of gore that covered the carpet. The bedroom was still a crime scene.
“What are you doing? We ordered you to take that sweatshirt off,” Malum snarled and stomped after me.
I slammed the bathroom door in his face.
Turned the lock.
I leaned against the bathroom counter and splashed cold water on my cheeks. Grabbed the toothbrush with my name engraved on it and scrubbed at my teeth until my gums bled.
Wiping my face clean, I winced at the tender green bruises that covered my face like a bad camouflage. A long, stitched-up gash sliced underneath my left eye.
Turquoise curls stuck out around my head in every direction.
Two black eyes completed the look.
I’d seen wanted posters for insane escaped prisoners that looked better than I did.
A foggy memory of landing face-first on grass played in the back of my mind, and manic laughter bubbled up my throat.
I’d jumped headfirst off the post like an absolute badass.
I stared into the mirror and laughed harder.
The only source of light in the bathroom was a small hexagon window. Maroon light cast spooky shadows around my reflection. I looked creepy.
I’d tipped off a post into open air with a pipe between my lips and Horse by my side, and the free fall had felt like exquisite freedom.
I smiled.
Oops. I was missing three teeth.
Sometimes I was cool as shit.
Leaning closer to the mirror, I poked at my eyeballs. They were no longer bloodshot; they were just bloody.
Masses of broken blood vessels surrounded my corneas.
I blinked, and a droplet of blood ran down my cheek like a teardrop. A pink streak was left across green-tinted skin.
Once again, absolute badass.
“John’s sweatshirt better be off your body when you come out.” Malum pounded on the door. “Remember who owns you.”
John yelled, “Don’t listen to him, he’s just jealous because—”
There was a loud grunt and the sound of men wrestling.
I ignored them.
Pressing John’s soft sweatshirt against my nose, I inhaled the woodsy deliciousness.
I officially had an olfactory kink. Another thing I didn’t need to know about myself.
Just to check, I sniffed my skin and choked on the pungent scent of gore.
I smelled like a dead rat.
Not all of us were so blessed.
For a long moment, I considered keeping it on just to piss the kings off, but then a wave of exhaustion made the world spin. I toppled over.
Knees pressed against the bathroom floor, I tried to calm my racing heart.
I wasn’t strong enough to fight with the kings.
I tipped forward and lay on the floor with my limbs spread. The tile didn’t feel cold, because I was already shivering. Lately I was always cold, and I didn’t know why.
After long moments of panting and trying mentally to pull myself together, I got back to my feet.
With stiff, achy movements, I reluctantly pulled off John’s cozy sweatshirt and folded it onto my shelf.
We each had our own cubby and hamper in the bathroom that the servants kept stocked with clean clothes. I needed to thank whatever female servant had added a new pile of underwear and sports bras. Only a woman would have included the shapeless, soft purple garments that flattened my boobs and completely covered my butt in comfy fabric.
Sorting through the pile, I could have sworn there were usually five pairs of underwear, but now there were only four. The last pair must have been unsalvageable.
Getting dressed seemed like a smart idea in theory.
In reality, my stitches pulled, and once again I fell over as I tried to pull up my underwear.
I slammed my aching knees onto the tile.
Popped a stitch on my arm.
The lilac undergarments went well with my blue hair, scabbing red wounds, and green-black bruises.
I’d never looked so colorful.
Looking over the cubbies, I followed the kings’ instructions. I pulled Orion’s sweatshirt out of his cubby and pressed the chocolate-raspberry scent to my face.
Pulling on his sweatshirt was an exercise in mortal combat, and it snagged on my wounds.
When it was all said and done, I stared blankly at my clothed reflection. I stuck my pipe between my lips and puffed out Horse to complete the look.
He cawed and settled his smoking talons onto my shoulders.
My new aesthetic was cozy, drug-dependent swamp monster.
Not to brag, but I nailed the look.
Shuffling forward on aching joints, I leaned my head against the bathroom door and counted to ten. Inhaled drugs.
In an alternate universe, my fictional lover was out of his mind with concern that I’d been injured. He was on the other side of the door, ready to pamper me and make sure I didn’t lift a finger. He was waiting to coddle me and give me sweet kisses.
“Get your ass out of the bathroom!” Malum shouted.
I exhaled smoke.
In this universe, I suffered.
I pushed open the door with my shoulders back and asked calmly, “What’s the plan for the day?” Straightening my shoulders, I tried to project competence.
The three kings stood outside the door, waiting for me.
Orion raised his eyebrow when he saw what I was wearing, and a smile curved his lips. He looked like a cat with cream.
Malum glared like usual, and tiny scarlet flames danced across his exposed bronze arms. He wore a black T-shirt that clung to his bulging muscles like a second skin.
Steel eyes traced over me slowly.
He clenched his jaw as he recognized whose sweatshirt I was wearing but he said nothing about it.
I arched my brow at him tauntingly.
I also did not notice the network of veins that decorated his forearms. Nope. Didn’t see them at all.
I did notice that he wasn’t bruised, and compared to mine, Orion’s marks were minimal. There were a few angry gashes across their exposed skin, but otherwise they looked healthy and unaffected by the fall.
Not relatable.
Scorpius’s head tilted in my direction like he was listening to every breath I took. Orion whispered in his ear.
Malum dragged his hands over his buzzed hair and said, “Since we only have seven days until the next competition, we’re going to ramp up our training. First, we go to lunch.” Silver eyes narrowed on me. “Everyone needs to focus on eating as much as possible during meals so they’re fueled and ready.”
I saluted him with my third finger and said sarcastically, “Yes, sir.”