The royal city of Port Cressida has a new King.
Casper Ashe.
After spending years chained to the floor of a dungeon, haunted by visions of a beautiful woman, Casper is finally free. As Port Cressida's new King, he has two priorities: restore peace t...
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The Royal Hunting Lodge
Sophie Reese
Jacques and I snuck across the frozen grounds towards the main house. Inside, we could see lights and the shadows of people moving within. Servants, guests and guards, moved anxiously inside, packing their belongings to flee to the main city. I silently wondered what they would say when they returned to the city. Would they repeat every unkind word that Rudolph had spoken about me at the wedding, or would they keep their lips shut in fear of Casper's threat of treason?
I guess it wouldn't matter. They'd still hate me either way.I was the imposter queen. The queen that no one wanted... although, that wasn't quite true. I knew that beyond the safety of the estate was a mountainside full of demons and devils who were dying to meet me.
I slipped my hand into my pocket and gently rubbed my finger against the small ring of thorns. It was hard to believe that this trinket would be my shield against the forces of hell.
"Slow up," Jacques whispered to me as we neared the back of the main house.
A guard was leaning out the backdoor, having a cigarette.
Jacques nodded towards an outbuilding to the side where several black SUVs were parked.
"My bike is somewhere in that garage," he said softly.
"Hopefully, the guard will be gone soon. We can't afford to waste time. The witch said the thorns would only work for the next four hours."
"Yeah, I know. We are going to have to be smart with our time once we hit the road."
"Where is the market?"
"St. Lucretia's market is an hour's ride away in the snow. It's in a place called the Spit, which is just outside the city."
"The Spit? Couldn't someone come up with a better name?"
"It's a shithole where the scum of Port Cressida lives. It's filled with thieves, assassins, druggies, black magicians, prostitutes and other transients."
"If it's that bad, then why hasn't anyone done something about it?"
"Well, firstly, the politicians and nobles don't like acknowledging the problem, as it highlights their inability to run a city... and secondly, those same politicians and nobles use the Spit's thieves, assassins, etc, to do their dirty work for them. In short, it's rats screwing rats."
"It sounds more like rich rats screwing poor people."
"Yeah, a tale as old as time."
The guard stubbed his cigarette out and headed back inside. Jacques grabbed my hand and we ran past the back door and into the garage.
"Wait here," he instructed and disappeared into a darkened corner of the garage.
I waited behind the tailgate of the SUV whilst keeping a watchful eye on the main house. Looking at the great house, I imagined
