Page 158 of A Simple Truth

“And that is how you negotiate the best deal ever, Daughter of the Dead.” Smug satisfaction painted his features. “I just got myself a wife, potential kids, maybe a goat or two…” He strolled towards me as he listed all the things that came with this all-encompassing arrangement. “And that’s the true skill of a powerful negotiator. Zorianna could’ve never taught you that.” His mouth stretched with an arrogant smirk, as he stood nowonly a breath away from me. “But with that being said, baby making takes a lot of skill and effort…” he purred into my ear.

“Is that so?”

“That’s what I’ve heard…” He chuckled at the ridiculous words pouring out of him. His tongue trailed down my neck, down to my shoulder as he waited for me to finish the last bits of food. “So, we must dedicate ourselves to vigorous, relentless practice, diligently honing that skill…” His eyes darkened with enthralling desire.

“Practice does make perfect.” I agreed, and he was already on his knees by me, sliding up the wrapped-up blanket as his lips showered my legs in burning want, slowly pushing me until I was flush against the wall. With a swift motion, he threw both of my legs on his shoulders, bending them at the knee, as he buried his face down my core, holding me up with his arms. My fingers ran through his dark hair as he pulled the blanket off, exposing my skin to him as he feasted on me.

Thrilling desire exploded within me, forging me anew.

This was perfect.

This was divine.

This was joy.

95

QUEEN INSANARIA

The cobble streets of Svitar’s Slums were pleasantly empty as the shadows slithered between my steps; the metal heel of my boots clunking against the worn-out stone as I walked down the rotten parts of the city. I motioned with my hand to the empty flower pots lining the dirty window displays, and black, poisonous thorns slowly sprouted out of them. “There, much better,” I muttered to myself, sauntering further.

I hated coming to Svitar, the ‘city of fucking light’. Here in the Slums, it was nothing but scum, filth, and gloom.

I hated Svitar. But I especially hated the Slums.

Somehow, even after thirty years, it still hadn’t changed a bit.

This wretched fucking city. It would never learn how to change, how to adapt; just a vicious cycle of poverty and pain. A cycle that carved life out of you before you could even know the meaning of the word.

My eyes stalked a particularly narrow street as I paused my stroll, stopping in the middle of the road. There, at the end of the path, stood a tall orphanage, miserable and soul-crushing as ever. I glanced to the second floor of the building, to the small, round window, just as dirty as I remembered it.

I had spent days staring through it, while shadows squabbled over my soul, eventually devouring all the light within, as I spent my youth rotting little by little there.

However, when I had given this place a chance to change, an offer of redemption, they rejected me instead. My gaze lingered on the building and though I couldn’t see the small alleyway behind it, a harsh smile rose to my lips.

There, I had learned of my powers as my first bleed came.

There, I had also become a woman.

I leered, reminiscent of the memory. I was so naively in love.

Love. I scoffed.Such a pretty word for such an ugly feeling.

At least, I thought it was love. I thought it was, until he brought his friends along for the ride.

A lone man had whistled at me, interrupting my dreadful, painful memories. I didn’t bother giving him a look as I motioned with my hand once more, and large, black spikes pierced through his throat, killing him in the blink of an eye. The last few drunks remaining with any semblance of consciousness rapidly scattered. Welcoming terror spread in the air as they sobered up.

I returned to the drowning memories, moving like pictures in my mind.

There, amidst the shadows in that small alley, hurt and broken and so damn betrayed, I had spent hours laying against the cold, slimy ground. Shaking and crying, as blood mixed with males’ seed ran down my bruised legs. I was so young, barely fourteen; my powers only began to sprout a few months prior. But the beautiful vines I used to summon were powerless against this cruel world.

I walked down the street until my feet paused by an older, well cared for shop. With a seamless gesture of my hand, the sharp, black spikes undid the lock and opened the door.

The wind chimes of the Silken Arrow rang, alerting the owner to my presence.

“Hello, Insanaria,” Laviticus uttered bitterly as I removed my hat.

“Long time no see, Laviticus.” My lips stretched with a crooked smile.

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