Of Roses and Kings

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“To the dungeon.” Those were the last words she said to me, and the reasons for them should be what I ponder. Instead all I can think about is the way her mouth curved, the tip of her tongue between her parted lips as she spoke.

The Red Queen controls everything. Such is the power of money, of influence, of her lovely, lying lips.

“It’s not my fault,” I protest, even as I step outside the palace into the dusk.

My escort, one lone guard, glances at me curiously.

“It’s not my fault,” I repeat.

He shoves me, hand between my shoulder blades. “Keep moving.”

“I’m not guilty.”

He doesn’t answer. I could kill him if I had a mind to, but I don’t. He’s just doing his job. It’s not personal. I’m accused of… well, honestly, I don’t know the list of charges this time. All I know is that I was in the Red Queen’s chambers, and now I’m in custody.

“I’m not innocent, but neither am I guilty,” I explain, more to myself than him.

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