Joseph MacRae's eyelids were twitching, the motion not completely under his control. It didn't matter anyway. Open or closed, it was too dark to tell the difference, and too strenuous to try.

And he was so very cold. He questioned whether he was even alive. It won't be for long. . . .

Gradually, he was absorbing more of the details in regard to his surroundings. Because of his violent fits of shivering, his sore limbs were grinding against his hard-as-stone resting place. There was blood in his mouth. Something was splattering on the ground in front of him. His face felt wetter and colder than the rest of his body, if that was even possible.

Squeak, squeak, squeak. . .

Joe also felt the chill accompanying his fear. He tried to lift his head to the side and instantly regretted it. It slammed back onto the stone and made his head throb wildly. His stomach was empty—and infuriated with that awareness—but that did not prevent its contents from spilling over anyway.

At that moment, he knew he was alive. Death wouldn't punish him this much.

Joe's increasingly lucid thoughts were circulating like mad as well. Where am I? What happened? Where is Cassie? Is she all right? My father. . .

Joe gasped for air. Bile was once again in his throat. It was more than just a nightmare. He went through all of the possible outcomes and reached the same conclusion every time.

His father was dead.

Why am I not dead?

Despite his physical limitations, he was too desperate to remain horizontal. He rolled onto his back and heaved himself into a sitting position. It took every muscle he had.

When he put his hands down to stabilize his torso, he heard a crunch. The crunch led to more pain. It didn't take long for him to figure out what had cut his hand. He picked up the twisted remains of his glasses. With his thumbs, he could tell both lenses were shattered.

So much for clarity. . .

He tossed them aside and began crawling toward a dim and distant source of light. Unassailable bars stymied his pursuit. With his head resting on one of them, he looked down the long corridor of . . . the palace dungeon.

Joe rolled into a leaning position against his cell wall and shut his eyes. And then he could hear it—tortured voices moaning his name or weeping in the distance.

What was causing the rustling and squeaking? The rats. They lived in that pit! Surely, he'd be able to hear them. . .

And is that a baby crying. . . ?

Deep, raspy breathing soon interrupted the maddening noises. Joe also detected an increase of light through his closed eyelids.

He didn't really want to know, but he couldn't help himself. And when his eyes managed to open, Andromeda was looming over him, on the other side of the bars. She gave him a blood-red smile, so sour, it could have curdled water.

Joe jerked away from her. It was a reflex reaction. He tried to rise to his feet and failed miserably. He jarred every one of his bones when he landed flat on his ass.

The whitish-blue orb of Andromeda's scepter glowed brighter, perhaps in response to her amusement.

He tried to rise to his feet once more. And collapsed once again, this time with an aggravated sigh.

"You may as well sit," Andromeda tittered. "I am rather surprised you can move at all. My soldiers gave you enough Blackout Potion to last through the night. I'll have to increase the dosage. But perhaps I won't need to. . . ."

Joe looked away, hoping she would continue to drug him. Sleep would be the most preferable way to endure his punishment for being born.

"Do you know why I'm here, Chief Counselor?" His former title brought out her villainous laugh. "Better yet," she continued, just barely in control of herself. "Do you know why you're here . . . alive?"

"No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me," Joe answered in the most sarcastic voice he ever had the occasion to use. If she immediately ended his life in retaliation, she would probably be doing him a favor.

Joe glanced back in her direction and her smile broadened. Why is she so goddamn happy?

Granted, she successfully regained control of her kingdom and, most likely, killed her life-long nemesis. Even so, her smile was practically straight-jacket, window-licking worthy. And it scared the hell out of him.

"What do you want?" Joe asked after an excruciatingly long silence.

"Only to talk. . ." Andromeda glanced at her long black nails. She rubbed them along the bodice of her gown, rechecking their shine once she was through. Apparently, she had no better place to be and she enjoyed postponing her big reveal for as long as possible. Just to make him crazy, no doubt. "I just found out that eight of my best Crown Champions are dead and General Crux has gone missing."

"Yeah . . . so? He'd be a lousy general. I could have told you that. Not exactly the newsflash of the decade."

"Oh, there's more. His mission to retrieve your brother and your fiancée went terribly awry."

"O . . . kay. . . ?" Joe replied. "What's your point?"

She snickered. "Aren't there questions coming to mind? Was your dearest brother responsible? And now, are the two of them . . . together?"

"Speculation. . ."

Her laugh was loud and terrible this time. "Is that what you believe?"

He didn't know what to believe. But he felt in his nauseous gut that there must be some element of truth behind the allegation. Joe couldn't explain away the most troubling recollection. Why wasn't Chris at the wedding?

If Chris was the always-late type, then Joe might be able to take a deep breath and accept that Andromeda was messing with him. But Chris was never late for anything. He avoided the wedding because he was in love with the bride! That was obvious the night at The Cavern. And conveniently, the next day, his reluctance put him in a position to rescue the "damsel in distress" from an army of thousands. Like he planned it that way. . .

"Do you have any proof or are you just tormenting me for your own enjoyment?" Joe spat back.

"Witnesses saw them enter that filthy little inn, Aurora Borealis," she went on as if he had said nothing. "They had to be driven out by my soldiers!" Andromeda shrieked, her voice meaner, shrill, and disturbingly enthusiastic. "You ask for proof? Well, here you go!" Andromeda shoved a sack through the bars and tossed it into his lap. "Open it!"

Joe obeyed like a robot. Choice and independent thought were gone. From a wad of shredded fabric—what was once a corset—fell Cassie's engagement ring.

"They left you a little parting gift. She tossed the ring aside and your brother did so much damage to her wedding corset, he rendered it useless! Once Christopher—your gallant and honorable brother returned—it's like you no longer existed. Because you lack what he has in abundance—that titillating masculinity. You've tried to overcompensate for it in other ways, but you can't erase the envy. Maybe, just maybe, you'll cross the young princess's mind when she's alphabetizing her books or prioritizing her list of things to do, but definitely not when big brother is inside of her."

And that's when Joe snapped. He used all of his mental energy to fling Cassie's engagement ring back at Andromeda, too fast for her to dodge out of the way. It struck her forehead between the eyebrows. Blood trickled down her nose and streaked onto her scarred cheek.

Andromeda was eerily unmoved by the gash. She let the blood flow to her chin, collect there and drip, as if nothing bothered her—not the assault, the pain, the oozing sensation, or her appearance. "Did I hit a nerve, MacRae?"

"Go fuck yourself!"

It was a response undoubtedly punishable by death. And he didn't care. In fact, he was ready for it.

But Andromeda didn't lash back at him. Instead, she hissed, "Join me."

Joe's head snapped in her direction, his eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"I'll let you lead the expedition to retrieve the star-crossed lovers."

Joe's gaze wandered to the cell's far corner. The light supplied by Andromeda's scepter allowed him to identify the source of the dripping. There was water oozing through the cracks in the wall and splattering to the stone floor, one drop at a time.

"Well then. . ." Andromeda lifted into the air, suggesting her little visit was about to end. "I'll give you plenty of time to think about it. Then I will ask you to join me one more time. And I'm sure you'll come around. I'm the only one who can give you what you want. You're ambitious, hungry for recognition . . . and revenge. Martyrdom just wouldn't suit you."

"You're wrong."

Andromeda fluttered out of view. "We'll see," she answered in a mockingly high-pitched tone. The sound echoed through the corridor and it taunted him long after she was gone.

As Joe sat there, motionless, and in the presence of Cassie's torn corset and all-too-visible engagement ring, surely left beyond the bars and just out of reach on purpose, he tried to figure out who he hated more—Andromeda, his brother, or the princess? It was an interesting quandary to ponder and his life ultimately depended on his decision.

But like Andromeda said . . . he would have plenty of time to think about it.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Weezer. King.

~

"Act like you own it, I can't condone it

You show me no respect, you got to get off it

You got to get with it

Time for a swift kick"

https://youtu.be/-VBvM33UX3Y