Greedy girl, you should be staying far away from him.
I’m sorry, Adelina. I can save myself and pass the test; I’ve already spilt blood, proven that I’m willing, but is it so wrong to alsowantto be saved? Urgh, does that make me less your heir or more human? Maybe that’s my crime. If Adelina’s error was to confuse devotion with appetite and mistakenly dine on the poisoned dish, perhaps my own is the audacity to place a third plate at the table—still steaming and forbidden—and name it salvation.
I look at him again, my country’s scandal and the man the newspapers call arrogant. His mouth twitches in sleep; I hone in on the movement.Salvation, salvation,I can almost taste it. Let’s pretend, for five fucking minutes, nobody’s trying to kill me. A small delusion. Self-care, if you will. I grin into his neck like a fool because he smells like he’s dry-cleaned every day, and it’s so obnoxious that it makes perfect sense.
I think about moving.
I don’t move.
Instead, I give another heavy blink that soon turns into a dreamless sleep. The next time I surface, the alarm laughs in 13:20.
After one?
Can’t remember the last time I slept in this late. Daylight bleeds into the room so aggressively that I groan into the pillow. That only aggravates the ache. Fuck’s sake, Bilbo Baggins must be tap dancing in my goddamn head.
Eric’s side of the bed is empty, and I realise he’s swapped himself out for the decoy pillow I’m currently clutching. I press my nose to the fabric, feeling foolish and so utterly seen in one breath. Another groan leaves me when I remember it’s my birthday, so I summon some positivity and roll over.
In another life, I’d wake to my bedroom door opening, my parents singing off-key. Dad would be holding a cupcake (always vanilla icing), and Mum would be protecting the candles so they don’t die via the exaggerated huffing and puffing of her husband’s singing. Lucy would be elbowing me awake, ready to clap the second I’ve made a wish.
Whole tradition gone, severed in two by one date.
I swallow my grief and grab the nightstand’s offering: a glass of water and two aspirins.Bless that expensive-smelling bastard.I chug it down and admire the rest of the product lineup. There’s a book-shaped parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied off with a length of twine.
Next to it, my phone practically vibrates itself towards the edge, screen flashing with well wishes, both genuine and performative. As I read through them, I listen to Percy’s drawn-out voice note and reply to the word vomit that Edmund could only manage to express via messages.
Gran, ever the technophobe, sends me an emotional wish alongside a GIF of some chipmunks in birthday hats and an accidental sticker of Pedro Pascal that she didn’t know howto delete. As tradition dictates, I ignore the greater Sheffolk family’s wishes until later, but one more notification catches my eye. The laugh that rips out of me upon seeing the contact name makes me glad I’m alone.
12pt Arial
You need a better password than your birthday, Duchess.
Took me less than ten seconds.
Also put my number in your phone, try not to delete it.
Consider it your first birthday gift from me.
I finish the rest of the water and swipe to answer him.
Francesca
waking up to a personalised birthday message from someone named ‘12pt arial’ might just be my sign to end it all
also just bc i almost died doesn’t mean you let me sleep like the dead
When his response takes longer than five minutes, I head to the bathroom and find the bag of toiletries he ferried in. I brush my teeth fast, spit into the basin and grab my skincare that Eric seems to have arranged in military rows. The mirror reflects the ugly bruises back at me, and I pull a jumper over my head, relieved to see that the neckline swallows everything. Tonight’s neckline, however, will not. Foundation will have to do the rest. Sweatpants up, slippers shoved onto my feet, and I head back into his room to see that he’s responded.
12pt Arial
Not a soul laughed.
And I let you sleep because you needed it.
In a shocking turn of events, it turns out that almost being murdered takes a toll on both the body and mind.
Francesca
your comedic skills are wasted on me. where are you anyway?
