Hello!
And welcome to the 5th instalment in the main Queen Among series line-up. Before you dive in, it is important to know that understanding terms, character names, and certain events is dependent on having read books 1-4 including Bite-Size Luna before this. Each book in the Queen Among series meticulously weaves into each other and overlaps, so those moments will not make sense if read out of order.While I welcome all readers to join these characters on their journeys and even encourage them to continue on with the next generation series (Royal Shadow series) releasing upon the completion of the Queen Among series, I want readers to be able to have the reading experience they deserve, and reading this book before the others will impede that from happening.Now, I can't make you do anything, but I hope you take this into consideration before you begin.With that being said, on with the story!xoADB_Stories~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~You know how they say ‘stop to smell the roses’? Well, I’ve been smelling the roses for centuries and I’m here to tell you they smell like shit.
I have no idea how humans tolerate the utter mundaneness of their lives. Oh, they don’t think their lives are mundane, but trust me, they are. Only they don’t realise it because they’re living on limited time but imagine if that time was endless. Imagine facing an eternity on earth. You could accomplish everything you wanted in life in the first or second century, and then what are you left with? Endless tedium.
Endless tedium is the bane of my endless existence, even as I watch people walking past the café window. They walk by with smiles on their faces, a pep in their step and a laugh on their lips and I hate them for it. Occasionally someone walks past the window with a deep-set scowl imprinted on their face and for a brief second I let a smile touch my lips. These are the people I relate to most.
I rub my eyes trying to ease the irritation of my contacts as I take another sip of my ristretto, feeling the intense flavour perk up my senses. I notice the waitress’s somewhat blurry figure walking over and I observe her carefully from the corner of my eye, hoping she doesn’t get too close.
“Is everything to your liking?” she asks in Italian with a broad smile on her face.
“Sì, grazie,” I say brusquely, my Italian sounding amateurish even to my own ears.
The waitress’s smile doesn’t falter at my tone. Instead, she reaches past me to collect my empty plate. I instinctively flinch away the moment her arm gets too close, doing my best to ensure no part of her touches any part of me.
The waitress’s eyes widen and then soften, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” she says gently, “You’re safe with me, I’m an ally,” she says proudly.
Oh for the love of all that is holy. Yes, because I’m black I automatically assume every white person is out to get me and I need saving from the five-foot barista. I can’t stop my eye roll at her stupid assumption. Could I maybe just not like to be touched?
“I’m not looking for an ally,” I say boorishly, getting up and withdrawing my wallet from my back pocket and placing a few euro’s down on the table.
“You don’t have to leave,” she says in a panic, “I promise this establishment has nothing against people of colour.”
For fuck sake, someone make this woman stop talking. She looks sweet, and perhaps she means well, but she seems like one of those people who are so woke they’ve circled right back around to ignorant. I was just trying to enjoy a caffeinated beverage and a snack and not be touched, how this turned into someone boasting about racial safe spaces is fucking beyond me.
I ignore the barista and make my way out of the café, my mood soured even more than usual. I’m so distracted by the interaction I’m not as vigilant as I usually am and don’t notice the man walking in my direction until I feel him bump into me. The sensation of razors lacerating my body consumes my senses and if this were three centuries ago, I would be on the ground screaming, but instead, I simply close my eyes and take slow breaths through my nose. I look down as I pull my sleeve up and watch as that dreaded chain made of pure darkness like a thick black fog, forms around my wrist, burning into my flesh.
I take a breath and wait for the pain to subside, then look through the crowd of pedestrians to find the one who just ruined my day. I can see the chain of shadowy darkness weaving through the throngs of people and wrapping around the wrist of a man in a tan suit. I scrub my hands down my face, dreading what I must do, but know I have no fucking choice. I look up to the sky and send out a silent curse to the Goddess who did this to me.
I quickly make my way through the crowd until I find the man I have been latched to and I tap him on the shoulder. He turns to face me with a curious expression.
“Scusi, you bumped into me back there,” I say.
The man quirks his eyebrow, “So? You followed me just to get an apology?” he snorts mockingly.
I fucking hate my life.
“No, I didn’t, but it wouldn’t have killed you,” I say dryly. The man’s face turns displeased, and he begins to walk away from me. I let out a deep sigh and race in front of him, stopping him.
“What the fuck do you want?” he groans in annoyance.
“This may be hard to believe, but because you bumped into me I now must grant you a wish. I can’t leave your side until I have,” I say with disgruntled irritation.
The man’s face turns blank before he doubles over laughing. It’s not the first time I’ve had this reaction and probably won’t be the last. This was much easier a couple centuries ago, although it came with a high chance of execution, at least back then people believed in the supernatural. Now everyone’s a sceptic, so trying to prove I’m not some random guy on the street who’s off his head, is just a new aspect of the curse that keeps on giving.
“You’re going to grant me a wish? What, like some kind of genie?” he laughs.
“Actually, we’re called visums,” I deadpan.
He stops laughing, catching the lack of humour in my tone and voice. “Look, I don’t know what you’re on, but maybe it’s time to get off it.”
He attempts to walk past me, but I block him and proceed to take out my contacts. I open my eyes and am finally able to see clearly for the first time since I woke up this morning. I look at the man in front of me and watch as confusion and annoyance turns to shock as he takes a step back. I’ve been using contacts almost since they were invented. Nothing wrong with my eyesight, I was just sick of people crossing the street when they saw me, or getting scared at the sight of me, and it has nothing to do with the colour of my skin. Well, sometimes that was the reason, but mostly it was because of my eyes.
When I was human I remember having eyes the colour of molasses, but ever since I was cursed, they were replaced with electric blue irises that blend into an electric purple closer to the pupil. I hate them. It’s not exactly an eye colour you see in everyday life, and they tend to give people cause for concern. I suppose in the era of customised contacts where you could make your eyes look like you have planet Earth for irises, I shouldn’t have to worry, but I prefer not to draw unwanted attention to myself.
“Look I don’t know what kind of street prank this is, but I’m not interested,” the man says in agitation, pushing past me and walking off.
I sigh and decide I have no choice but to wait. I move off the street and lean against the wall in a nearby ally. I close my eyes and wait, bracing myself for the inevitable pain that’s soon to come, and like clockwork, I watch as the dark chain around my wrist glows darker as every nerve in my body wakes up to the sensation of razors being dragged across my flesh. I grit my teeth and am immediately yanked from the spot only to suddenly appear in the backseat of a car that could use an air freshener or two with the man who had bumped into me sitting in the driver’s seat. He jumps and throws himself against the driver’s side door the moment he sees me sitting in his backseat.
“How the fuck did you get in here?! What are you?! What the fuck do you want?!” he shouts, reaching for the door handle.
“As I said, I’m a visum, and because you bumped into me I cannot leave your side until I grant you a wish.” I repeat the boring sales pitch, “I’m literally chained to you. Where you go, I go. So if you want to get rid of me make your wish,” I urge him.
“I thought genies give three wishes,” he says flippantly.
“Did I say I was a fucking genie? It’s one wish, and one wish only,” I snap.
“So you’re telling me I can ask for anything I want, and you have to grant it? No questions asked?” he asks for confirmation.
“Exactly,” I sigh. I hate that I don’t get a say in what wishes I grant. I have granted some fucked up wishes that I try my best to forget.
A malicious smile creeps up the man’s face and I instantly don’t like where this is going.
Have I mentioned I fucking hate my life? As I was saying, I’ve granted many wishes over the years, and as much as this wish seems like just deserts, the fact I’ve been made to watch it unfold makes it feel sordid. I’m sitting in Tommaso’s car – as I’ve learned his name to be – watching his wife ride some guy's dick in the front seat of her red BMW convertible in some seedy make-out point that overlooks the Ionian Sea. I focus my attention on the view of crystal blue waters that span as far as the eye can see. In this direction, I see no land on the horizon, just a vast sea with endless possibilities. There’s something soothing about watching the waves dancing along the surface of the water. The more I watch it the more hypnotised by them I become. I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved the ocean. I even spent a few years living on a yacht, staying as far from land as I could. It was the most at peace I ever felt. Sure, it was lonely, but I’ve gotten accustomed to loneliness after a
“Do I go with the white shirt or the blue shirt?” I muse to myself as I stand in front of my full-length mirror moving one shirt in front of me and then the next. Fashion has evolved so much over the last century, and as much as I love all the options it has provided me, I do miss the days when it didn’t take me hours to decide what to wear. Being given such variety is both a blessing and a curse. That being said, I’m going to go with the royal blue button-down. It’s my signature colour and does make my cerulean eyes pop. I toss the white shirt onto my bed and slide my arms into the royal blue shirt and do up the buttons leaving four undone at the top and tucking it into the waistband of my pants. I want the menses to get a taste of the goods, as Gypsy Rose-Lee once said, ‘make them beg for more, and then don’t give it to them’. I give myself a final once-over and admire how spectacular my ass looks in these jeans. Full and firm, but juicy as hell. I grab my money clip and phone sli
I make my way into the Throne Room, walking down the length of the room to be met with the sight of my parents in a passionate make-out session. Not the most professional use of this room, but hey, if I had five minutes alone with my animai I’d be doing the same thing. Besides, my parents are hot. Hence why I’m so drop-dead gorgeous. Don’t hate the offspring, hate the genetics. My mother is considered one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom, a fact she’s very self-conscious about, to the point she has had a little nipping and tucking in recent years. She may have a long life expectancy, but she’s not a fan of aging. I still think she’s beautiful though. Mother – Queen Callista – is 5’9” with a very toned physique. She’s a natural brunette with hair that just passes her shoulders but has been in a blonde phase for the last thirty years, and she knows how to rock it. She has sun-kissed skin, cerulean blue eyes – that she kindly passed on to me – and a petite face with perfect d
I swim at a glacial pace weaving around a school of fish and start to swim deeper past the continental slope and along the seabed, stopping when I approach the edge of the ocean trench. I lower my body to the seabed and let my fingers sink into the grains of sand beneath me. From here I can see the outline of our old kingdom at the depths of the trench; still intact and perfectly preserved under the sea. Long ago this kingdom resided on the surface and was attached to the mainland, but in a cataclysmic event, was swallowed by the sea. The God of the Elements, Ezillus, used his magic to preserve the kingdom and those within. Around the outside of the underwater kingdom there is nothing but demolished structures and I’m sure more skeletons than I want to think about. Divers are unable to find this place thanks to the magic around it. Our people lived here for centuries before deciding to return to the surface, but this place is still a huge part of our history, and where we keep our mos
The warm and electric sensation of someone caressing my face stirs me to my senses. The moment I begin to awaken I feel aches and pains radiating all over my body like someone went a few rounds with a boxing bag, and I was the boxing bag. A groan slips out and I try to will my body to sit up when I suddenly feel two strong hands lay on my chest and gently push me back down sending more currents of electricity through my body, making the aching in my body subside. “Easy there, don’t try and move, you had a nasty fall,” a warm Grecian voice says softly, sending tingles to my groin. What the fuck? I force my eyes open and have to blink several times before I can process that the man sitting beside me is real. Intense cerulean eyes are staring down at me with so much concern that it’s making me uneasy. Why is he looking at me like that? I discreetly look him over taking in his appearance and I must begrudgingly admit he is rather gorgeous. Smooth-tanned skin and dark brown hair that’s lo
I make my way to Eisa’s room, trying to shake off the adrenaline coursing through me. My animai, my soulmate; tried to reject me. I saved his life, and I didn’t even get so much as a thank you. Instead, I got a grown man throwing a hissy fit and trying to break our bond before he even took the time to know me. This is not how my dream scenario went. Growing up with parents who refused to accept me, I found comfort in knowing that one day I’d find my soulmate and at least he would accept me as I am, but instead, I get an attempted rejection. I guess I should thank Zarseti for finding a way to stop him from doing so because if you ask me, he’s being childish. You know what? Not just childish, but selfish. What about my feelings? What was that crap about me being happier once he’s gone? Why the fuck would I be happier being rejected by my perfect person? Why are all the drop-dead gorgeous guys, jerks? Is it hardcoded into their DNA or something? And yet people think being gay is a choic
Together, Eisa and I make our way through the palace and find my parents in the courtyard. It’s one of the most beautiful spots in the palace. Exotic trees stand tall and proud against the structure of the palace walls, while vibrant green vines weave their way around every piece of stone. Fountains of dancing water are scattered throughout the courtyard separated by gardens of birds of paradise, burgundy gladiolus, blue hyacinth, pink crocus and… fuck, dandelions. Shit on a brick! I completely forgot. Note to self, have the gardeners remove all the dandelions, and keep Lemuel as far away from them as I can. As I recall, dandelions are an excruciating poison to visums. No tacky flower is killing my animai, no ma’am pam. We make our way through the stone path and find my parents happily embracing my least favourite person on planet Earth. The ever-annoying and perpetual pain in my ass, Circe Sarkis. A high-born sirna who has been obsessed with me since she was old enough to walk. At f
After spending a little bit of time reflecting on my current predicament, I get up and walk across the room to the aforementioned closet and as I open the door I become still as a statue. When he said he had the closet fully stocked I thought he meant a hotel-sized closet with a few essentials, I didn’t think he bought an entire mall. I cautiously step in, afraid somehow the gargantuan closet will swallow me whole, and slowly wander around the room. I’ve lived in apartments smaller than this. The room is all white on white with bright white lights, a large counter with draws in the centre of the room flanked by ottomans. An incredibly exquisite pearl chandelier hanging from the ceiling with hangers and draws and racks around the room filled with clothes, they even still have the tags on them. One side of the room is just a giant mirror that reflects the entire closet making it look twice as big. I can see the clothes I was wearing earlier hanging in another section of the closet appe