Day One Hundred Eighty-Two Thousand, Four Hundred Thirty-Eight started out as dull and fruitless as any other in my eternal life. I suppose I should at least be kissing the Lord's arse for the duties that took me away from my dreadful husband this very morning.

But playing the part of 'god Blessed Queen' was as stomach-wrenching as breathing the same air as him. I may as well be stepping from one pile of horseshit to another.

The somber sun broke through the stained glass windows of the elegant church as I descended the altar's stairs. Crowds of devoted subjects stacked two endless rows of dark, wooden benches that outlined the tediously long walkway to the preaching platform. It did not go unnoticed to me that the high priest of the Estridial Kingdom loved to have the rulers attend mass just when the sun was at its highest point. When heavenly light broke through the tinted window, shining a godly yellow glow against the white stone on those that descended. On me.

Hands clawed desperately at the seams of my peach-colored dress when I reached the bottom of the stairs. The fabric stretched, threatening to rip off my lightly sun-kissed skin. It was a smart move to wear my treenut-colored hair up in an elaborate twist of braids and folds, lest it also be yanked for good luck.

"Blessed Queen, please bless my child with your good fortune!" A desperate mom hurled her crying babe into my face.

My hand gently graced the smooth surface of the child's forehead. "May the heavenly gods favor your future with good luck." I smiled at the ecstatic mother who now cuddled her child like it was a lucky charm. You are going to need it with that mother of yours.

"Please! Blessed Queen, bless me as well!"

"No! Bless me."

"I don't have a child. But I can have one so bless me in advance!"

A snort threatened to break my composed smile. I wished I could pat the back of whoever said that last one. It tickled my ribs.

I turned to the crowd of pleading faces and gave a soft wave goodbye. A needle of guilt pricked my heart as the high priest, Exia, walked down the same aisle coated in robes the color of excrement. An entourage of altar boys followed his strides, collecting silver coins from the crowd of weathered and hard-working hands.

The monks were leeches, and I was the one feeding them the blood.

I exited through the grand open doors and walked hastily to my carriage. Two metal-covered guards waited patiently for me to enter.

"Blessed Queen, a word if I may?" Exia's low and screechy voice called from behind me.

I cursed my luck. I was but a step from entering the carriage and enjoying a long and peaceful ride to the palace. I choked down the bile as I turned to face Exia. The sunlight shone off of his bald scalp as sweat trickled down. Three poor black hair-strands tried so hard to compensate for the cruelty of time. "Yes?" I asked.

"His Majesty did not attend today's service as requested."

"Clearly...."

"It would be prudent that he does next time."

'Should I force his cock out of his most current lover then?' I wanted to ask. But, I bit my tongue and said, "It will be brought to the king's attention." I turned away before I could get another whiff of his asparagus-scented breath. A trembling little leg caught my eyes just as I reached the carriage and opened the door.

Next to the grand church steps was a pile of dark hazelnut-colored hair, cascading over shaking mud-covered legs. By the size of the feet, the child was no more than five earth cycles old.

I turned, face furiously red. "Exia, what is the meaning of this?" I pointed to the startled child.

"What is the problem, your majesty?" He hunched over like a dog being reprimanded.

"Is it not obvious? Is there not a children's sanctuary at the citadel? Why is this little girl here on the streets?"

"We are at full capacity, Your Majesty." He licked his wrinkled right hand before combing those three hairs down. "We simply don't have any more resources to support more strays."

My eyes glided across the pure gold staff he held, past the grand open doors, and to the altar boys making their second round through the aisle. "Not enough resources? Did you not just fill your donation basket to the rim?" I wanted to rip those three remaining hairs from his scalp.

"And we greatly thank the Lord for them. It will fund us for the rest of the month. But our finances are already stretched thin from the orphanage you demanded we establish." His neck crouched like a fragile old man. "We simply cannot accept more."

A fake act.

My stomach boiled with outrage. Every part of my body wanted to storm over, strike him across the face, and send him straight into the dungeons. Perhaps, stripping him of his title and sending him to fend in the streets would be a more just fate. Control yourself Zurilya. Ours was an arrangement of convenience, and I needed to play my cards carefully. "I would hate to see the church unable to do its benevolent work if I too were to stop coming to its services."

His yellow rotting teeth clenched tight, almost cracking under the pressure, but his head remained low. "It would be a shame if we did not have enough money to function. Who would stop those fanatics that think your long lives the work of the devil?"

It was my turn to grind my teeth. I walked back up the steps, standing tall against his hunched figure. "I will take the child to the orphanage and make sure she is cleaned, fed, and given a place to rest. I will speak to the king about obtaining additional funds."

"How generous of you. Exemplary of the Blessed Queen."

The blast of asparagus nearly had me falling backward down the steps. I turned away before I would spill my stomach over his bent bald head. Or worse, let slip the insults at the tip of my tongue.

I took a breath, the afternoon air allowing my muscles to relax. For a brief second, I allowed the hard exterior — cemented over four hundred and ninety-nine years, it was as hard as the kingdom's siege walls — crack as I approached the trembling child. I kneeled on the dirty ground, not caring as the overly embroidered edges of my dress stained. "Hello, what may your name be?"

Silence.

"I am Queen Zurilya." I gestured to my chest. "Where are your parents?"

Her curls shifted slightly as chocolate eyes peeked through the cascading brown. Her small hand pointed down the street. Just before the road curved was a single house. At least what remained of it. The broken wood was colored in black and gray as ashes clung to every surface. Poor little thing. She has been here, looking at what remained... The thought made my heart twist.

"How long have you been on the streets?" I asked.

A small hand rose and held up three mud-covered fingers.

"Three days?"

She shook her head no.

"Weeks!"

Her curls shook up and down in confirmation.

I let my outrage subside. There was no time to focus on it, she was so thin. She was just thankful the little girl had survived this long. "Let's go get you some clean clothes and some food. Perhaps a nice bowl of warm soup?"

Her stomach rumbled at the mention. Head snapped up. Dark curls flew in the air from the sudden motion, baring her face. Hardened and scarred lines covered the right half of her face. The fluid twist of fire's deadly touch marked her skin. Her head dove back under when she noticed my stare.

"Hey," I said as gently as my voice could be. "There is no need to hide. We all have our scars."

Her chocolate eyes looked at me questioningly.

"In here." I pointed to my chest. "I have many, many scars, but I do not cower to them. They have hardened me — made me stronger. If anyone stares, you stare right back at them, strong and proud."

"I... I am not strong." Her voice cracked.

I took the risk of scarring her and reached to part her dark curls and held her bony cheeks in my hands. "But you will be, life sometimes forces us to be, and I can see great strength underneath those beautiful eyes of yours."

Her lips pouted as she tried to wrap her young brain around my words. I didn't know if she understood them well, but I was glad when her head straightened.

"Let us go, shall we?"

I shouldn't have been surprised to find his head buried under a skirt. But no one could really fault the golden king for being so... giving. It was a trait hard to find in men. One I would applaud were the rest of his personality not so repellent.

"EMILLION!" I called again while a vein popped from my forehead. My eyes wandered over the moving bump on the fabric caused by his head. It was an exquisite dress, woven of light and soft silk, so unlike the ones in this court. Certainly not crafted by the tailors of this kingdom, nor the next over.

Golden locks appeared as he pulled the fabric of the red dress from his head. Earth-colored legs unwrapped from around his neck. A sharp gasp escaped his companion. 'My condolences.' I almost burst into laughter at the thread of disappointment on her pretty face.

Head still between her legs, he said, "Love, can you not see I am busy?" My hand itched to slap the childish smirk off those lovely cheeks. He looked like he had gotten caught eating from the cookie jar and felt no shame. He never did.

"You are married?" The red-haired girl squeaked — fire-head, I shall call her. Her deep-brown eyes zapped from me to the man kneeling in front of her.

"If you would be so kind as to finish your meal later." I matched his amused gaze. "We need to speak of the orphanage. They need more funds."

"Can this not wait?" He gestured to the spot between the fire-head's legs. She huffed and closed her knees, forcing him out of her space.

Emillion grunted but unwrapped his arms from under the woman's long legs and rose. "You see what you have done?" he scolded.

"Go speak to the clergy, and I shall leave you alone to participate in whatever activities you desire."

He soothed the annoyance concentrating in his temple. "Why do they require more funds?" He walked towards me as he wiped his mouth with a silk handkerchief.

"There are more beds needed."

"I'll go speak to him. Perhaps, taunt not attending the celebration of the Breaking Of The Celestial Sky." His sea-like eyes narrowed as he shoved the cloth into his chest pocket. "To think another of our anniversaries is soon to pass."

The handkerchief I had gifted him right after the fae wish. My tongue burned like vinegar on a wound at the memory of our past. Back when I still believed in a happily ever after. I smirked, hoping he didn't notice how my eyes lingered on the white silk. "I am sure they value that day and hope to become blessed by the gods like we were."

He stood tall, towering over me. "If they only knew..." His words lingered in the room in a sad yet threatening tone. But it was soon replaced by an evil smirk that stretched across his sculpted face. "A kiss goodbye?"

"I will cut your tongue off," I warned.

"But think of the women. Such a loss would be too great." He waved his finger in joyous reprimand as he fastened his cuffs with the royal pins. Emillion strode to the large golden doors before he turned and bowed. Long golden strands fell over devilish blue eyes as he smiled. "If you would excuse me, ladies. Feel free to use the time to become acquainted."

I rolled my eyes at his insinuating wink.

The door closed, and I finally turned my head to Lady Fire-Head. She sat motionless on the grand royal bed, hands buried deep into all the different fabrics that were thrown over the mattress. Her red-brown eyebrows were comically raised so high they may as well be merging with her hairline.

"Where did you get that dress? I don't recognize the style?" I asked, letting my eyes trace the silky folds. The dress framed her breasts, breaking just below her cleavage, creating a tight top and flowing bottom. The two pieces were united by vine-like dark straps that wrapped back and forward, reaching her waist. It looked so light, unlike the layered peach dress I wore.

"Excuse me?" the fire-head asked, realizing I was speaking to her. "Are you not upset you found your husband with another woman?"

"Would you be upset if you found a dog licking its own balls for the thousandth time? At a certain point, you just accept it for the degenerate it is."

Her deep-brown eyes widened, not in disgust like the noble ladies, but in amusement. For a second, I could have sworn I saw fire flickering in her eyes. "Such a happy marriage," she said sarcastically. "As for your question, I tailored it myself. It is my profession." She raised one of the fabrics as proof. "I was supposed to be tailoring the king."

"Looks like you did a bit more than that." I chuckled. Most of the women were squeamish around me, afraid to inspire the wrath of the queen after my dear husband had charmed them into his bed. But this fire-head, although cautious, didn't tremble in fear at my gaze.

"What is your name?" I asked.

She rose from the bed and began to fasten her dress. "Earithia." Brown eyes studied me as she spoke.

"Earithia? I don't recognize the origin."

"I come from a land far away," she whispered, staring out the window. Again, the light in her eyes fluttered as she held a longing gaze. Her arms stretched, struggling to reach the tie behind her back.

I walked towards her and grasped the two strips of silk fibers. The silk was so light and soft against my skin, it felt like holding a warm ray of light. "Where from? I have spent many, many days in the library reading about faraway lands. Surely, I would have read about yours."

There was a sad truth: years spent looking for knowledge of the fae, hoping to find something to break the spell, but all resulted in very few findings.

She snickered. "I am afraid not, your highness."

Earithia turned, and my eyes lingered on her face, trying to place her. Crimson hair and lips, dark skin, and brown eyes seemed to burn with fire. She had this otherworldly beauty that just didn't seem to belong.

"If you will excuse me, your highness." She placed her right hand on her breast and began to bow.

My hand snapped and caught her wrist. "Where did you get this mark?" My heart beat loudly against my ribcage, threatening to break out at the sight of the emblems on her hands. Lines twisted back and forth in elegant strokes of deep-red ink in the shape of the sun. Foreign symbols were scattered around the edges, flickering with a reddish tone under the daylight.

I had seen marks like that once before. On an old scroll about the fae.

"They are just marks." Her voice turned more confident and deadly. Her shoulders rose, and her chin moved higher. It was like I was staring at a different person.

My nails dug into her skin — afraid that if I let go, she may run out. "What are you?" I demanded.

"I do not know what you speak of." She growled, and her hair waved in the air like fire itself. Heat bubbled under my skin, and I had to snap my hand back in fear that it may burn.

"You are a fae?" I asked, mouth wide open. "But how? You look human?" No pointed ears, horns, or wings like she had read in all those books.

"It was nice to meet you." Her lips thinned as she started to walk away, refusing to answer my questions.

"Guards!"

The large door opened, revealing soldiers clad in metal armor and swords at their waist.

"Please hold the door closed until I tell you," I instructed.

The guards bowed their heads, and I could see Earithia nervously eye the iron swords at their waists. When the door closed, her shoulders relaxed. With anger in her eyes, she asked, "You plan to keep me trapped here?"

I recoiled in a bit of shame, but I could not let her go. "No, just long enough for you to hear me out. Please, I beg you. Perhaps you could break this spell I am under. I'll give you whatever you like. Gold. Jewelry. Name it."

"You fool," she grumbled. "I traveled here because I heard rumors of never dying royalty. I thought perhaps some fae had crossed over and decided to stay, so I came to ask for help in getting back home. But I already figured out that it's just a pair of humans under a spell. I can't help you. My magic is not strong enough to break whatever magic binds you two."

"You must at least know how?" My voice cracked with desperation.

"No. I don't. Now let me go."

I panicked. I couldn't keep Earithia trapped here if I wanted her help, nor could I let this be the last time we spoke. There was so much more to find out — even more, to ask her. "Come back tomorrow with your tools. I would like to commission several of your dresses. I will pay you handsomely."

"It will cost you," Earithia warned.

I nodded and ordered, "Open the doors!"

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Artwork to come soon :}