Short Stories

The King's Gift

I made a promise not to get drunk tonight, but I've never been one to keep promises anyways so I'm already on my second glass of MerryBerry Wine.

Everyone I've ever seen in my life is celebrating the fortunate arrival of a new king, that of which, I am not impressed by.

Sorren is young and I'd be an idiot to think he could rule an entire kingdom.  He's always hated work and anything to do with it.

I lean against the wall near the edge of the party, not bothering to jump in on the fun, but he clearly sees me watching him, his golden eyes flickering to me a few times.

When he's crowned his eyes are only on me, his condescending smile makes me even more eager to force him off the throne. I can't shake the thought of being able to best him, his realization as he sees I was the one working against him the whole time.

I shake my head slowly to rid of these traitorous thoughts and pay attention, watching his confident yet lazy posture as he stands up. He wears the colors of a deep red, not unlike the color of blood as he makes his way through the crowd.

I breath a sigh of relief when I realize he is not coming towards me, however halfway towards his sister, Princess Tamsyn, there's a loud THWACK.

An arrow has imbedded itself in the floor near Sorrens feet, just barely missing him. There's a collective gasp of surprise throughout the crowd as people scramble away from the newly crowned king.

Surprisingly, Sorren doesn't flinch, pulling the arrow out of the floor and making his way casually towards me. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as he gets closer.

His golden eyes are unreadable, as he lazily sets a hand on my shoulder. "Look at me Laika."

And I do. I don't have much choice, seeing as this is the king. I hate the condescending smile he gives me when I obey his order and I want nothing more then to slap him across the face.

"Be honest with me, was it you that tried to kill me just now?" His voice lowers as he asks this question.

I feel offended, half wishing it was me, but instead I just say a snarky reply. "No. If it was me, I wouldn't have missed."

He lets out a quiet laugh, removing his hand from my shoulder as he steps away.

"My apologies, Miss Laika, forgive my rude accusations. Perhaps I can offer you a dance to make up for it?"

"I hate you."  I murmur, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You love me."