Morons and Monarchs

Chapter Sixty-Two: Viviendel🛌

Ea should be here tomorrow.

Maybe he will show up as I am sleeping, I wonder as I cuddle into his blankets. They smell just like him. Like a library, with a hint of jasmine and of course my perfume. I sprayed some on his clothes a few days ago when he wasn't looking.

It doesn't take long before my eyes are drifting closed, my mind quiet.

_____________________________________________________

I wake up, suddenly cold.

My eyes unwittingly open and I glance around quickly, the window is open, and I don't have socks on. My feet are freezing and now I can't put them on Ea's legs to warm them up. Darn it.

I step onto the cold ground, shivering in my newly clad nightgown that leaves very little to the imagination and makes me feel all the more powerful.

The windowsill is cool as I slide it down, and I swear my fingers numb a bit.

Something sharp bites my neck and I inhale sharply. My breath coming out ragged as a foreign arm wraps around my shoulder blades.

This isn't Ea.

Ea is not this stubby.

I struggle against the hold, bringing my forearm up and trying to wrap my hand around the blade. Better it cut my palm than my neck.

But it doesn't even shift.

"Move." A gravelly voice orders behind me, and I shiver again, but this time, not because of the cold. "To the window."

It sounds like a voice changer. And I almost want to laugh. I bet he has a chirpy, 5 year-old voice.

But I move anyway, still trying to grab a hold of the dagger at my throat.

The man digs it in harder, drawing a line of blood, and I feel its warmth as it slips down my throat.

Tears are falling from my eyes and I sniffle as I see the dagger in my peripheral vision glint in th knight, the few lights coming from the curtains barely illuminating the room.

I take another step and still as the front of my thighs press against the cool windowsill, and I shiver involuntarily.

"Please," I tell the man. "I never did anything to get offed!" He just opens the windowsill with his other hand.

"Step up," Is all he says and my cries turn into sobs as I step onto the small ledge. My legs shaky and my brain still trying to wrap around the fact that I am about to die.

And then the dagger leaves my throat, and hands encased in warm leather wrap around my shoulder.

"Don't scream," is my only warning before he pushes me and I scream as I fall

and fall

and fall

and fall some more.

My tears whip around me and I wonder if somebody will think they are the few fat drops of rain before the storm- a warning to seek shelter before water blankets every little trinket left out.I flip around right before I hit the ground, and I close my eyes shut tight so I cannot see my unending doom.

And I wait for the ground to meet me.

And then it does.

The ground barrels into my stomach, and I try to lift my head away so that it can't do too much damage, and I do not die.

I do not die.

I open up my eyes only to see that I am floating above it, my nose practically on the cool tiles.