The Happy Ever Afters (Collections of short stories)

A Crown of Thorns

Valerie Berkshire sat alone in the grand solarium of the Stein Palace, the late afternoon sun filtering through the massive glass windows and casting long shadows across the marble floor. The room, with its high ceilings and opulent decor, had always felt too big, too empty-much like her life as the Empress of the Stein Empire. The title, once a badge of honor and love, now hung around her neck like a noose.

She lifted a delicate teacup to her lips, the fragrant aroma of lavender wafting up to her nose, but the tea had long gone cold. The warmth that had once filled her life had slowly ebbed away, replaced by a chill that settled deep into her bones. Despite the grandeur of her surroundings, despite the power she held, Valerie felt small, lost in the vastness of her own existence.

Her greyish-blue eyes, once bright with dreams of a life spent in love and art, now held the weight of a thousand unspoken words, a thousand unshed tears. She had painted so many pictures in her mind of the life she and Nikolai would have together-the life they never did.

But that was the past, she reminded herself. The divorce had been finalized months ago, the crown she once wore now sat atop Nikolai's head alone. She was free, or so everyone told her. But freedom, she had learned, was a double-edged sword.

She set the teacup down with a soft clink, her hands trembling slightly. They had once been so steady, so sure, when holding a paintbrush, when crafting her own little worlds on canvas. But the real world, with all its harsh edges and bitter realities, had stolen that from her. Now, her hands held only the ghosts of those dreams.

A soft knock on the solarium door broke through her reverie, and she turned her head just as the door opened to reveal Alistair Lanstov. The sight of him, tall and effortlessly confident, with his dark hair tousled just enough to look rakish, brought a small, involuntary smile to her lips. He was a breath of fresh air in a room filled with staleness, a reminder that not everything in her life was lost.

"Val," he greeted, his voice smooth as silk, his green eyes alight with mischief, as always. "Am I interrupting your sulking session?"

Valerie rolled her eyes, but there was no malice in it. "I don't sulk."

"No, of course not," Alistair agreed, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You brood. There's a distinct difference."

She couldn't help but laugh, a soft sound that filled the otherwise quiet room. "What do you want, Alistair?"

"Who says I want anything?" He walked over to her, the sound of his boots clicking against the marble floor. When he reached her, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Maybe I just came to rescue you from yourself."

She raised an eyebrow, her heart giving an unexpected flutter at his touch. "And where exactly are you planning on taking me?"

"Anywhere but here," he said, his voice serious now, though his eyes still danced with that familiar spark. "Come on, Val. You need to get out of this place, even if it's just for a few hours. Let's go for a ride."

Valerie hesitated, glancing around the solarium, as if searching for an excuse to say no. But what was the point? She had no duties, no obligations now. The empire had gone on without her, and she had no intention of trying to reclaim her place in it.

"Alright," she finally agreed, her voice soft. "A ride sounds nice."

Alistair's smile widened, and he led her out of the solarium, through the winding corridors of the palace she had once known so well. It had been her home, her prison, and now it was just a gilded cage she was finally escaping from.

The stables were a short walk from the palace, and as they approached, Valerie felt a strange sense of nostalgia wash over her. She had always loved riding, loved the sense of freedom it brought. It was one of the few things that had kept her sane during her years as Empress, a brief escape from the suffocating duties of her title.