Fairy Tale: The Rising Star

Chapter 31: Doomed (Part 1)

Ursa took one last look in the mirror before she answered the knock at her door. Even though she wasn't yet dressed for the day, the black diamonds were in her ears. Quite probably, they were an impetus for change, the beginning of the end, the force behind the downfall of a disloyal, disreputable family. 

When Ursa opened the door, Joe strolled in as if he belonged there.  He had a black sack propped underneath his arm that looked cumbersome. He carefully set that, his documents, and activity logbook on her bed and presented himself, hands sweeping to the side. "How do I look?"

Joe was wearing his finest apparel and he wore it well—a black cloak with a pointed lapel, a neatly pressed white dress shirt underneath, black trousers, and a royal blue tie that hung in loose decorative loops around his neck.

His glasses were clean. His shoes were shined.

Ursa smiled her approval. "Perfect," she said. "I would give you a kiss. . ."

He pulled his head back. "But your lipstick would make blood look washed out." He crinkled his nose. "It's not really my color."

She stepped closer and smoothed her hands over his chest. "I don't think you'll mind where I leave my mark later."

When her tongue entered his ear, he squirmed like a ticklish child. "No, probably not."

Ursa was the one to pull away first, more to tantalize him than to assume the role of the responsible one.   

He stole one last nibble on her neck and went to gather his things from her bed. "Well, wish me luck." 

"You don't need luck," she said, her hands on her hips. "You have something better."

"What's that?"

"Me."

"I thought you were going to say sheer brilliance." He winked and then strolled to the door, secrets to success in tow once again. 

"That too."

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Joe couldn't run, he had nowhere to hide, and no one to turn to. He had to face Queen Andromeda alone. He hoped he would eventually walk out of the Strategy Room in her good graces. If not, he would be leaving the room in a much less lively condition. Either way, it would all be over soon. 

Andromeda was expecting him at promptly eight a.m. Not a moment earlier or later. And when the second hand of his pocket watch reached the twelve, Joe knocked on the door.

He waited. His knock's echo rose and fell, and then came a profound silence and an accompanying shudder. He knew he couldn't always count on a verbal invitation into Andromeda's domain, but by no means did this give him permission to cower in the hallway.

He decided it would be best to enter.

Andromeda's throne was in the far corner of the room, and it had been shifted to the side for a view of the palatial window. Joe could only see her interlaced fingertips and the scars on her face. Whether or not her position and profile were meant to be a reminder of his father's misdeeds, he took them as one. 

For the first time ever, Joe resented his father. That was usually Chris's job, but he was too preoccupied having his ego massaged to do much resenting lately. Someone ought to take over and do a better job. If it wasn't for those damn scars. . .

"Lingering in the hall for a reason?" the queen droned with haunting musicality.  

"No, of course not. I just . . . I wasn't . . . sure you were in here," he claimed, although it was a lie, and he mentally kicked himself for the stammer. He took a deep breath through his nose and kept the air in his lungs for a painfully long time. Hold it together! "I have the Progress Report you asked for," he said through his exhale. He lifted his hard work for her to see. "Would you like a copy? I have two."