Jon
She knows who I am. That much is clear. I cannot falter one step without her snapping at my heels, a vengeance for crimes I have not committed. Unless defying her is a crime. It might as well be.
Naercy was a good choice: alleys aplenty, deafening noise, too many people for my mind to stick out. She may shake her fist all she likes. It won't make her search go faster.
But her anger has claws, and they rake across all they see. Flames upon my village, Beatrice in their wake. A dead future. Deader still. Our two sons turn to ash that will never be. I keep moving regardless.
I wonder what she wants from me. Does she expect me to fill the void that dwells within her, the way the crown could not? The way her son did, before she decided he too was not enough, a project she needed to polish to perfection.
It doesn't matter how high you rise, I want to whisper. It will never be enough.
But I cannot risk her refusal to answer, her fist clamping on my skull as she rummages through my mind. I must keep moving until my legs wear out, until I have no choice but to snuff out my own candle.
My bones ache with every step, with every sleepless night, with every bloodstained memory which hauls me out of bed. I am too old for this chase. Too old to play Protagonist in a story of my own making. Yet I am the only one capable of it.
The Guard finds me before she does, letting me go without much question. A rambling old man with delusions of grandeur, too unhinged to bring along. Nothing more than more ash in the wind.
My hand curls around the pill I asked for, the one Farley had tossed me after I pestered her for it. Do the world a favor, crow.
I'd laughed.
It should be easy. I have nothing left to keep me. Yet still I cling, clutching the cyanide pill as if I could crush it to oblivion. Too soon. I cannot risk her return to the palace. But every moment I dawdle is a moment she can find me. A moment she can wring to disaster.
A twig snaps.
I spin around to the trees, where a Red quivers as he stares at me. He has his orders. He knows my fate. He runs, and so do I, opposite directions in the middle of the park. She must be nearby.
My time is running out.
As is my body, the bloody scratches, the worn muscles, the aching bones that fail me as my legs collapse. I grasp for the pill, cursing. sprawlI cannot let her draw close enough to snare me.
I'm sorry, Barrow.
My teeth tear open the casing and bite. But not quickly enough for a shoe to not slam down, crushing my fingers until they break. I swallow.
Claws scrape a mind that is already fading, already dying, neurons fraying as I convulse. She catches an image that crumbles in her hands.
And I laugh one last time before it all fades to nothing.
YOU ARE READING
Red Ruse
同人小說"You will live. It's a question of how much she's willing to indulge me. Of whether you'll be my prisoner--" He softens. "Or my queen." My queen. The words twist and ache with implication, with promises he can't possibly fulfill. "There's a di...
