Witchlight

Prologue - rewritten

     Crimson dripped from the chasm in the King's chest onto her black dress, soaking into its hem. She took the knife from the King's chest and placed it in his hand disguising the cause of his death, leaving her free from prosecution.

     Ryia had finally done it, she had finally killed the abusive tyrant who had taxed the people relentlessly, all to feed his taste for beautiful parties and beautiful women. The taxes had been so hard on her family that three of her brothers had starved to death, and two of her sister had become whores; all in the hope of getting a scrap of food. But now she didn't have to bow down to people who treated her like dirt, she had power and she intended to keep it, through whatever means necessary.

     Ryia looked down at the dead face of her late 'husband' - if you could even call him that- and everything inside of her clenched in disgust, finding even his dead presence revolting, but after the funeral she would never have to look at his beastly face again. What his mistresses ever saw in him she had yet to she. His pig like nose and thin lips always made him look like he was constipated, and his greasy comb over didn't help his overweight figure either. She closed her eyes, trying to regain some composure. She had a job to do if she was going to keep her crown, the first task on the list was cleaning out the traitors. The first to go would be the King's advisers. They had always looked down at Ryia, they had always scoffed at her ideas, and they had always been dirty little filth; grabbing her as she walked past, staring. Ryia could not wait to publicly sink her dagger into their necks; no, she would chop off their hands first, and then burn the things that had violated her. Then, she would be free to relieve them of their heads. Next to go would probably have to be the guards and knights, though their deaths would have to be less public. Nevertheless, they had sworn their allegiance to the now dead King; they could not be trusted.

     There was a sharp knock on the oak door, jarring Ryia from her thoughts.

     "Your Majesties? Are you alright?"

     Ryia sighed. "I am fine, but I need you come in and help me with something. I've got blood all over my dress, and I'm afraid it's soaking into the new Persian rug we just purchased," She called.

     "Pardon?" The guard's voice shook, whether from fear or shock, that was yet to be discovered.

     "Just come in here and help me."

     The door creaked open slowly, and the shadow of the guard fell into the room though only his head peeked around the crack like opening. The guard glanced down to where Ryia sat, looking quite comfortable with a bloody knife in hand. Then as the guard's eyes adjusted to the dim light that the fireplace gave off, he noticed the dead figure of the King. Wide eyed he opened his mouth, then promptly closed it in shock.

     "Why are you just standing there? Come help me you imbecile!"

     "Y-you killed the K-king," The guard finally managed to stutter out.

     "So I did. Now help me up!"

     "But... how could you! Your own husband!"

     The queen sighed. "You know I had hoped this would easier," whined Ryia. She then through the knife at the guard, and it nailed him between the eyes. The guard dropped dead to the floor.

      Ryia stood and retrieved the knife, wiping it on her dress, she left the two dead bodies to go start cleaning out the castle of those who would oppose her.

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Hey,

So I'm rewriting Witchlight, this is my prologue for the new story, tell me which version you like better.