She smiles tightly before turning back to Kiki. “Do you need me to repeat the question?”
“No,” she says. “I understand.”
“Good. Now, I just need a fingerprint and some of your DNA to make sure there aren’t any duplicate votes.” She looks at her tortured hands again. Hesitates for a second, then bends down, and very crisply, places the card under a bleeding finger. “There we go, got two in one. So,” she says as she straightens, “how would you like to vote?”
Kiki doesn’t look at me. “I vote for Richard to stay king.”
I frown.
“Thanks!” The official marks down her vote.
“Wait a second,” I say, stepping in front of her so she can’t leave. “Kiki, your answer will not impact your torture. Are you sure –”
“King Morningstar!” the official interrupts. “The rules specifically state that no one can intimidate someone into voting a certain way. By decree of King Morningstar, I’m going to have to place you under arrest.”
My eyes narrow, causing her to swallow hard. “I’m not intimidating her. I’m trying to make sure sheisn’tbeing intimidated by her current situation.”
She takes a step back and accidentally crushes Kiki’s fingers. “Well… um… okay then.”
After Kiki is finished screaming, the official asks her, “Do you wish to change your vote after this new information?”
“No.”
My hands clench into fists, but I don’t say a word.It is one vote.It won’t matter when stacked up against the others.
As the official leaves the cell, having taken my vote too, I pick up the piece of sandpaper.
It’s just one vote, I tell myself as I start rubbing her little toe.It won’t make a difference.
I start on the next one.
But think about how dumb the average person is…
Another toe turns red.
Half the populace is even dumber than that.
I rub so hard, I reveal bone.
Fuck.
How many hours until the vote is in?
Thirty-Nine
A good little slut doesn't tell someone to hurry the fuck up.
But come on. Seriously!
- Arienna
The vote is in.
My body humming, I shift from foot to foot inside the Purple Ballroom. The luxurious, wide-open space is packed with nobles and commoners alike. A tense, hesitant energy wraps around the room as we all wait for Richard to arrive so the announcer can open the purple envelope that’s been laid upon her podium.
The door to the hall opens, and Richard walks in, his hair wet from a recent shower. Wherever he’s been all day, it seems tohave taken a toll on him. His shoulders are stiff. His eyes don’t find mine. There’s a darkness moving inside him that has locked me out, and I wonder if it’s because I once called him a monster. I’ve since apologised, but does he think that’s how I really feel?
I want to tell him that I can share his burdens, that I want to help carry that crushing weight, but his eyes are on the announcer.
