The king is dead.
You are now the queen.
But what they don't know, is that you planned this all along.
They're playing your cards.
Today was his funeral. You didn't want to go. But it was custom.
You pretended to cry during it, making everyone feel sympathetic.
Making everyone believe you had no part in his murder.
You scoff to yourself.
You sit on the throne sideways, legs perched over one side, and twirl the crown between your fingers.
You start to laugh evilly, a dark smile draped on your face.
You have great plans for this kingdom.
And no one can stop you...
YOU ARE READING
Collection Of Dark POVs. Vol. 1
Short Story''Darling, if your looks could kill, this ballroom would suffer a massacre,'' he mutters, the corners of his lips lifting. You smirk. ''Ah, but where's the fun in doing it that way.''
