Page 2 of Not Another Happily Ever After

1

Her voice hasn’t changed.

It still finds and fills every part of me.

“And they all lived happily ever after.”

As far as we know.

Just like all the other fairytales wrapped in bound leather on my shelves, this one ends with the resonant chime of church bells and a vow of everlasting love.

The authors are more than generous with the details of the lovers’ lavish nuptials and their resulting happiness, but nobody ever feels inclined to write what happens in theever after. Maybe that’s because being happy truly is the greatest thing a person can be.

But more than likely, it’s a lack of imagination.

Without looking down, I toss the book onto my bed below, rewarded with a loudthudwhen it lands. I cringe, peering over the tower’s window stool—the same one I was orderednotto climb up—and find the yellowed pages have fallen free of the torn binding. They’re now sprawled out across the checkered floor, several feet from the modest duvet that was supposed to cushion its fall andnotbring the sound of shuffling boots to my door.

Crap.

“Your highness?”

My old guard’s brusque voice carries over the rap of knuckles against the tall, wooden doors. Doors that I’ve forgotten to leave unlocked. Again.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Hiking my inconveniently long nightgown train up toward my waist, I’m careful not to snag the pale blue chiffon on the sharp cobblestone ledge as I scale down the tower’s unnecessarily high walls.

“Your highness!” The metal knob twists, but the bolt doesn’t budge, even as the knocking turns to pounding at my back.

I have a sinking feeling the lock will be the next thing to disappear from my room, following the inkwells, the feather pens…and the desk.

Sigh.I really miss that desk.

It’s a wonder they let me keep the books.

Wait. “The book!”I gasp. “Mother’s book!”

I grimace over my shoulder at what remains of her dearly beloved, and very ruined heirloom.

Oh, I am definitely losing the books. Assuming they don’t chain me to the walls or stuff me in a room thatdoesn’thave a window.

My despair slips up and out of my knotted stomach, past my lips before I can think to seal them. My groan ricochets through the empty room, bouncing off the circular walls stretching far above me. I slap a hand over my mouth in a hopeless attempt to silence the echo, but lose my balance instead, slipping several feet down the sharp surface of the stone wall.

“Argh!” My cheeks fill with the scream clawing at the back of my throat, but I slam my mouth shut over it.

I feel the blood before I see it. Dripping down my arms and the side of my face.

“Princess!”

“Get this door open now!” More voices yell outside my doors, but the sting of pain is so potent that I can’t tell them apart anymore.

I blow out a shaky breath, hoping,praying,that the king and queen are in a favorable mood. Then I steal a peek at the damage. Crimson streaks run steadily from two cuts in my forearm. The blood that comes away on my fingertips when I brush them over my cheek tells me there’s a similar cut below my temple. But worse yet, my only nightgown is stained past the point of repair. If I wasn’t so difficult to kill, I’m certain my parents would try again.

I wonder if they’ll at least let me pick the spot they chain me to?

The familiar jingle of keys brings me back to reality, though, I imagine the dark thoughts my mind has conjured and the even darker consequences awaiting me will be one and the same very soon.

“I’m—” I try to call out, to reassure them that I’m alright. But something’s wrong.