The ground was as chill as ice, but it was more inviting then the bed I've shared with fleas and mice for who knows how long. The sun does reach this cage of stone I'm held in.
Why am I still here? I know where I am going. It is as clear as day itself in the law. So why then haven't I been sent off to the Isle of Dreams? I'm destined to live in a live of exiled insanity for being deemed "psychotic". Then why keep me here, unless-
I auditable laughed at the thought of being kept to form a peace with that old king of nothing. He was a twisted up man watching his own people kill eachother for glory. I guess that's why it's called the Kingdom of Fallen Stars. He doesn't need me to rule though, so I guess I should just be content with my future death by insanity. It isn't like it's going to hurt anyway.
"Miss," said a guard who walked in, "I am to escort you to the wash room so that you may prepare for your trial."
"Trial?" I about died of laughter. No one gets a trial here.
"Yes. The king has decided that if proven guilty he will sentence you to a life of poverty-stricken kingdom to form an alliance than one of his sixteen daughters. Prepare yourself to make a good impression; you aren't getting out of this."
Well, looks like I'm not having kids. They don't need that life. Plus, that good for nothing king's rule will finally end over that war-ridden, ramshackle kingdom.
YOU ARE READING
This Isn't Me
FantasyThis is a fantasy. I don't really know where it is going as of now, but I'm along for the ride if you are.
