My own bed. For a moment, I sprawled out, tangled up in velvet and satin, in red and black. Those colors I couldn’t escape. Those colors that were a part of me, but not the only part. Each one of us is a spectrum filled with darkness and light. Filled with violet twilights and golden dawns, crimson sunsets and emerald leaves. Emerald eyes. Taylor. I sat up in bed. My mother sat beside me, upon the actual bed, rather than in the ever-present throne that she’d built into every room of the castle as a symbol of her omnipotence. What did this closeness mean? Was she coming to me as an equal? The idea seemed ridiculous, but so did the thought that she’d kill me here, so far from her congregation. Why not make it a show? I licked my lips and came away with the foulest taste. “Here,” my mother said, holding out a goblet of silver. I lifted the liquid to my nose.
What do You think about The Last Faerie Queen (2015)?
