By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for Slayerangel

Darian Mitchell is a depressed young man with zero prospects and a hidden desire to be a woman. Struggling with a toxic family and an uncaring girlfriend, Darian’s life changes when he receives a fantasy novel that seems far, far too real. In fact, Darian begins to find himself transported into this other world, where he is a gorgeous redheaded princess named Dinah. But as reality starts to become uncertain, which world will he choose? And which life?

First Parts

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Chapter 5: Bad Blood

I didn’t open The Shards of Freedom for nearly a week after that. I was so fucking furious, mainly at the Wandering Witch for sending me to a fantasy world that seemed to map to my own present day miseries, but also mad at myself for being dumb enough to believe that some form of escape was possible. Hell, it was a sad day when I was actually relieved at Selina returning. She demanded that I apologise to her for the ‘embarrassment’ of my own debit card being declined when she shopped with my money, and I was just pathetic enough to actually beg for her forgiveness. I missed the warmth of human company, even if Selina could be cold as ice. We had a lot of makeup sex, though each time I found myself imagining I was Dinah and she was Miyra, and that, at least, got me to the end. Frankly, I got some damn good orgasms out of it, though as usual she didn’t want to spoon or anything afterwards, just text on her phone or go through her socials as usual. 

Of course, work was just as lonely. Once again, I was making calls and taking feedback on a variety of product marketing in order to maximise our success with online algorithms and sales efficiencies and blah blah blah. We sold fucking fake meds and overpriced medical insurance, but from the way my manager Brett talked down to us, you’d think we were some kinda prestigious health service or something, I don’t know. I just had to make it through the day with the knowledge that I was underpaid and overworked, and most of my money would be eaten up by Selina anyway. Hell, it got to the point where I was actually looking forward to Thursday Dinner Night just to save some money on food. Big mistake.

“Got knocked back on promotion, eh?” Angus taunted me from across the table. “Well no offence, kid, but I woulda knocked you back too! Management likes the attitude of a winner, and you don’t have one. Too much time spent in those fairytale stories and the like. You need to put away that girly shit and show the world that you’re a man, and that you deserve to be on top. That’s what I do every day.”

I looked at my mother, who was simply eating her meatloaf in silence. 

“Is that how it is, Mom?” I asked her, hoping against hope that she’d stick up for herself. Instead:

“Your father is right, Darian,” she said simply. “You should probably try to be a little more like him, you know. We owe a lot to him.”

I ate my dinner a little more aggressively. 

“See, Piper agrees with me!” Angus announced. “You’ve gotta take what’s yours, Darian, ‘cause the world won’t give it to ya. Just look at Robbie here. He’s the goddamn football captain now! Ain’t that right, kid?”

Robbie gave me the same smug grin that Robyn had in that other world. “Yeah. Other guy was in my way, but I took him down. Got a surprise injury, you know.”

“You hurt him?” I said, bewildered.

He and Angus laughed.

“No one can prove anything!” Robbie declared proudly. “But I guess you wouldn’t recognise a fight anyway, bro.”

I took a few more bites of my meatloaf, but to tell the truth, I wasn’t all that hungry. My stomach had stopped growling as soon as the insults had started. I looked to my Mom, trying to discern if any of the woman who had raised me was there. Once again, she avoided my gaze.

“You don’t think I’m a fighter, Mom?”

“Honey,” she said. “You never have been. I’m afraid you take after your father in that way.”

Suddenly, I was elsewhere, and it wasn’t the world of Varkath. I was in a white room, far, far too white. Dad was lying on a bed, and all kinds of cords and wires and tubes were coming out of him, all while a goddamn heart monitor beep-beep-beeped. It was so sterile. So cold. And there he was, not even able to talk anymore, but giving me the most loving smile you could ever imagine. And then the smile faltered, and I could see the pain that ravaged him returning, the cancer killing not just his body but the very soul of him. And yet fought through it to take my hand anyway and squeeze it tightly. To comfort me. To comfort ME, even though HE was the one who was dying. He fought through it to be my Dad, even in those last days before he fell asleep and never woke back up. He fought. He fucking fought.

I stood up from the table, and the seat I was in flew backwards, toppling over. Mom was startled, and Angus too, but Robbie was already on his feet with his hands raised, the fucking sociopath.

“Dad fought with everything he had,” I hissed. “And you fucking know it, Mom. Shame on you.”

I turned and left, striding down the hall even as Angus called out after me.

“You COME BACK and apologise right fucking now, you goddamn faggot!”

I opened the door and walked out onto the front yard.

“I said come back now, you little shit!”

I should have kept walking. I know I should have. But instead, I half-turned to give one final little statement to my arrogant stepfather down the hall. Too bad Robbie was already barrelling down it towards me, his fists still ready to go. I didn’t even manage to raise mine in time; he knocked me to the ground before I could think, and then the punches truly began.

“Fucking loser!” he spat. “Lame little fag-boy! Little tranny boy! Take this, you fucking puddle of piss!”

The blows kept on coming. I tried to defend myself, but despite having over ten years on Robbie, I was completely unable to fend him off. For a moment, I feared that I was actually going to die, until the kid finally relented. Angus had his hand.

“That’s enough, Robbie,” the man said, smirking down at me. “I’d say that’s a lesson learned. Gotta know when to end the fight, kid. Otherwise, ya can get in real trouble.”

Robbie still turned and spat on me. Angus shrugged.

“Lesson learned,” he repeated. “See ya next Thursday. If ya don’t come, I know where you live, and so does Robbie here.”

Slowly, I dragged myself back up to my feet. Everything was pain, everything was hurt. I looked down the hall, and saw that my mother was still at the table, eating her food. She’d ignored it all. It had never happened. 

This should have broken me. It should have. When Angus closed the door behind him and left me alone on the front lawn, bloodied and bruised and beaten, I should have been ready to return to that overpass bridge right away and hurl myself off it for good, no matter what kind of strange witch turned up this time. I should have been ready to die all over again.

Only I wasn’t. 

I couldn’t explain it . . . I simply wasn’t. No, that wasn’t it. Robbie and Angus were a pair of shitheels, and Mom was too for falling in with them and ignoring all the signs so she could live in her perfect world. But without even meaning to, they’d all reminded me of a valuable lesson from a true parent.

I was going to fight this.

I was going to fight like hell. 

And I was going to get my goddamn throne.

***

War paint. I didn’t care if Selina thought I was being feminine and weird, and I certainly didn’t care if my family thought I was gay or whatever. I was wearing my frickin’ war paint. I applied it delicately, always getting better at the eyeshadow, and contouring the lipstick across my lips far more artfully. I’d ordered a red wig using some spare funds, especially since I was living off of lentils and beans for the next week, but for now the blonde one would have to do. I considered taking one of Selina’s dresses, but that was a bridge too far, and would remind me too much of her. Instead, I inspected my appearance in the mirror and smiled.

“You do look cute,” I told myself. “And you’re about to be beautiful.”

Selina was out at the club. She wouldn’t be back for hours and hours, and she’d be drunk as a skunk when she returned. She didn’t want me with her. I was starting to think she was cheating on me, though I hoped I was just being depressed and paranoid. It didn’t matter, though. All that mattered was the book. I was going to see this through. I opened up The Shards of Freedom: A Princess’s Journey, and dove right in.

And this time, I was in there a lot longer.

***

“I can’t believe it!” Mirya said after I returned from that humiliating pronouncement. “You - you’re not going to be the queen? But that was your right! Your divine right!”

“I know,” I said, huffing a little as I held myself in the aftermath, once more in my bedchamber. My hair was a mess after I’d angrily clawed out the jewellery and pins, but Mirya was fixing it.

 “It was my plan! Our plan!” she declared. “We were going to be fabulous together!”

I could tell that she was even more agitated than I was, because she was tugging on my hair just a little too forcefully. I took her hands and stood, turning to face her. With a confidence I didn’t know I possessed, I caressed her cheek softly, observing her beautiful features.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I told her. “Look at me, Mirya. I’m still a princess. I’m still of age. And I’m sure I can shore up support. The King himself said that this was an unusual choice, right? It’s my damn stepmother, Queen Drusilla. She’s got her claws into him, just like in real - I mean, just like I always knew she would. Favouring her own daughter.”

Mirya calmed a little. “She is Praythan. I’ve heard whisperings from other servants that their own masters aren’t entirely happy about that. No one trusts the Praythan Empire.”

“Exactly!” I announced, jumping a little in excitement and causing my boobs to bounce. I winced; crossing back and forth between male and female bodies left me unable to get used to some things, my big breasts foremost amongst them. “We’re not out of this yet, Mirya. There’s no way I’m letting that bitch Robyn win the throne. I’m not letting the asshole members of my family take what’s mine.”

At this, she gave me quite the surprised expression.

“What?”

“I just didn’t realise you had it in you, my Lady,” she purred, before planting her lips upon mine. “It’s rather attractive, you know.”

Well, that was enough to get me going as well. I kissed her back, my tongue dancing with hers, causing my lady-in-waiting to moan in ecstasy. She held me, feeling her breasts once more, and this time I dared to return the favour. Mirya was my childhood best friend-turned-lover, and it seemed to me that this was exactly how such romantasy books went. 

“I want all of you, my Princess,” she cooed. “I want everything you have and more.”

It was enough to make my nipples throb and my pussy to grow damp.

“I want that too, Mirya. I fucking want it.”

“Such dirty words for a princess. Let’s see if they have merit, my Lady.”

Strangely enough, I actually found myself nervous. I’d had sex with women before, though less often than I’d care to admit. But I’d never had sex with a woman as a woman. Thankfully, it seemed that despite her official submissive status as my servant, she was very much one for control in the bedroom, because she manoeuvred me there while removing my dress and setting my hair free. Soon her hands were on my bodice, and I could barely keep up with her.

“I like it when you get like this, my Lady,” she said a little teasingly. “So powerful, yet like clay in my hands!”

God, and I felt it! I moaned as she threw the corset off to the side and then squeezed my ripe breasts together. The sensations were so alien, yet so wonderful. She pushed me back onto the bed and I spread my legs by some new feminine instinct in order to accept her. Mirya crawled on top of me, removing her own dress to reveal her luscious form. She was not so curvaceous as me, but she was clearly much stronger thanks to her life as a servant, and she pinned me down easily so she could kiss my lips. She bit them, producing just a hint of pain, but that only turned me on all the more. I moaned in a high, sweet voice that was only becoming more familiar to me, and she took that as permission to glide her fingers down to between my silky thighs.

“I want you to moan like a whore,” she said. 

I gasped as she touched me. Fondled me. Caressed me. “I th-thought you didn’t - ahh - like it when I t-talked dirty!”

“Oh, I like it just fine in private. I like taking my Princess and making her my little treat in bed . . . my Lady. Like this!”

She giggled as she played with my throbbing clitoris, and it made my body spasm from the bursts of bliss her motions created. I pulled her towards me, kissing her again, and this time I dared to feel her breasts and suck on them in turn. We continued to go at it for several minutes, and the act of having sex this way seemed so much more comfortable and natural to me than sex as a man. There was no need to thrust and exert, no concentrating on maintaining an erection and a fantasy in my head to stay hard. Instead, I was a woman. I was submissive to my lover, reciprocating when she allowed me to, and together we made such sweet music. I pleasured her when she demanded it, and this reversal of roles and power only brought me closer to my very first female climax.

“Ohhh, I’m g-going to cum! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Ohhh!”

She clasped a hand over my mouth and pushed me back, even though she was shuddering from her own pleasure. I squealed into her fingers as the orgasms hit me. They were like thunderbolts. No, they were like waves on the ocean. No, even that wasn’t right. They were like the wind itself, sending gusts upon my body, coursing through me continually but picking up in power at times before subsiding, just like the wind. The ecstasy whistled through my being, and sure enough, I felt like I was flying.

Finally, I collapsed back, holding onto Mirya for dear life, incoherently murmuring in delirious joy as she stroked my hair.

“I trust you enjoyed that, my Lady?” 

“Ohhh, Mirya. That was amazing. I - I love you.”

She kissed me on the forehead, where my tiara had sat not too long ago. “I’m rather smitten with you, Dinah. And it’s why we need to win this. For each other. So we can stay with each other. A Princess cannot have some servant lover . . . but a Queen can have an unofficial consort, no? A woman everyone knows to be her lover, but propriety means it is not spoken. And yet she can have all the wonderful dresses and jewels and rich life she can dream of . . . with her Queen, of course.”

I giggled and cuddled against my lover.

“Don’t you worry, Mirya,” I said. “We’re going to find a path for me to be Queen. We deserve our happy ending, and I’m going to fight for it.”

The woman embraced me back, smiling eagerly. “You know . . . I could get close to Princess Robyn. See what information I could find out?”

It seemed like a great idea to me, and I told her so.

***

The next two weeks passed like a whirlwind. I’d been in the world of Varkath several times now, but never for so long! But I was determined to know more about this world and my place in it, and to get back what I deserved; my right as an heir to the royal throne! With my beautiful Lady-in-Waiting at my side - and the much more passionate sex we were having on the side - I was filled with confidence. I may have been beaten down by my shitty family in my other life, but in this reality, I was going to triumph.

The first thing I needed was information. Information about myself, about this world, about the Praythan Empire, and about the laws of Varkath. To that end, I familiarised myself with the goings-on of being a Princess. Normally, according to my servants and Master Pruitt, the chamberlain who had introduced my father when he gave his pronouncement, I would be meeting with all sorts of dignitaries, attending cultural functions, and be involved in discussions over coming wedding suitors. Unfortunately, as I found out on the fourth day of my time in Varkath, these kinds of activities and routines were being actively taken away from me. It meant that Mirya was spending more and more time with Robyn, drawing closer to her as a handmaiden in order to get more information on what my evil stepsister was planning.

That left me to seek out the chamberlain. The white-haired man was a consummate professional, tall and spindly and with a missing eye that was replaced with a dark orb that he apparently used to see where he needed to inside the main palace. For security purposes, I damn well hoped.

“I’m very sorry about all the delays, my Lady,” he told me as I entered his office, this time wearing a really gorgeous green dress with hanging sleeves. Mirya would normally be right there with me in a white dress, giving me support, but this meeting I had to make on my own; she was currently entertaining Robyn, slowly infiltrating her entourage for our benefit. So I was extra careful while she wasn’t around. I made sure to step forward like a princess, which I was getting a lot better at now that I was adjusting to this female body.

“That is understandable, Master Pruitt,” I told him. “Please, take a seat and so shall I. I wish to discuss the matters of state.”

“That would be . . . difficult, your highness,” he told me, though he sat all the same, and so did I. I gestured for some guards to leave, and Pruitt confirmed this with a nod. 

“Please explain,” I asked.

“We-ell,” the man said, taking a handkerchief and polishing his dark orb of an eye. “You know your father. Once he has been persuaded on a course of action, it is difficult to persuade him back. He is most set on Robyn being his heir. Already, she attends significant matters of state. And the Queen herself has made some decrees as well, with your father’s royal blessing.”

I had never been the smartest guy in the world, but I knew marketing. And even now, in the body of a beautiful eighteen year old fiery-haired princess, I was able to read between the lines of what Pruitt was (deliberately?) implying.

“You’re saying the Queen has manipulated him.”

“I said no such thing. And if you try to claim I said it, I shall be forced to rebuke you, my Lady. I’m sorry, but this is as far as I can . . . explain things.”

I frowned. “Wait, is that why the planned meeting to arrange a suitor was abruptly stalled? Don’t get me wrong, Master Pruitt, I was fine with that, but . . . was that the Queen?”

“It is always your father’s decision,” he said, again giving me a meaningful look. “And such decisions are always on the basis of his closest counsel.”

Again, I could see the implication. Pruitt wasn’t happy with this situation either.

“Queen Drusilla is Praythan, isn’t she?” I said, looking up at the enormous map of the ‘Knowne Worlde’ that covered the east-facing wall of Pruitt’s impressive office. 

“That is common knowledge,” he said, voice flat.

“And how do you feel about that, Master Pruitt?”

At this, I sensed just a slight change in his demeanour. I’d seen it in Selina, in my mother, in customers back when I’d done direct marketing. I’d heard it over phone lines and seen it on the door step. That little moment when someone is forced to bite their tongue to avoid saying what they really think.

“My concerns are not with matters of foreign affairs, your Highness,” he said flatly. “Nor is my history of defensive military action against Imperial Praythan incursions into our realm and the scars I bear upon my face and body relevant either. I must follow the law of the land, and your father’s will is the law.”

“My stepmother’s will, you mean.”

At this, he let the silence stretch out. “I cannot comment further, good princess. I’m very sorry, I know that I cannot dismiss you, but I must provide certain documents to your father.”

“Of course,” I replied.

He gave me a bow, one that I nearly returned for some foolish reason, and then took several scrolls and moved to leave his elaborately furnished office. However, he slowed for a moment as he passed me. 

“For what it is worth, Princess Dinah,” Pruitt said quietly. “I think you would have made a wonderful Queen.”

With that, he moved on. His words had, surprisingly, left me a little emotional. Was I so desperate for some kind of affirmation that I went nearly teary-eyed at the smallest sampling of it? It seemed so, though it also meant I could count Pruitt as a potential ally. That was a small step, at least.

More steps were made in the following days. I came to learn more of Varkath - which was both the title of the realm and its capital city - and its surrounding areas. With little to do, I was able to access the marvels of the Grand Library and read up on the advancement of law throughout the history of the realm. I read about the rise of the Praythan Empire, and how it had already assimilated several former allied states of Varkath in the last hundred years. I noted the duties of being a princess, examined the geography of the land, and considered how to gain more sympathy in the eyes of the people. I needed to be visible, and I needed to be likeable. I also needed to be patriotic as hell, to contrast myself with Robyn, who was already making speeches. I heard one, given I was allowed access to the royal attendance chamber, and I didn’t care for it at all.

“I swear to be a worthy Queen when my time comes! I have been chosen against orthodox tradition, but only because Varkath requires strength and wisdom, not weakness and foolishness. It needs a leader, and a king’s counsel, who will bring peace and prosperity with our neighbours! This correction was needed to avoid an unwise choice, and so it has been made! I promise to serve you as you will serve me, and as we will all serve Varkath!”

I couldn’t deny, she was a damn good speech-maker, if she’d written it herself at all. Queen Drusilla was always near her at such events, always steering her vicious daughter towards more power, and therefore herself. The King, just like his equivalent Piper - my mother - in my other life, seemed to go along with whatever she wanted, overlooking callousness because of his clear infatuation with her. 

But that didn’t matter. I was making my own play. I’d read enough fantasy books to know the importance of symbolism. I wasn’t used to being a woman entirely yet, nor wearing such wonderful dresses and acting like a princess, but one thing I knew was that I loved doing all three of these things. I already had Pruitt as someone I could possibly rely on to support my claim, and the Grand Library had Mistress Fig, a lovely elven woman who looked to be in her late forties, but was possibly nearer to a thousand years of age. She was very excited to point out the many, many times in history when an elder sibling, passed over for a younger one, was able to successfully make his or her claim before the Royal Court. I had some people even approach me over those two weeks, noting that I was wearing the traditional greens of Varkath, my jewellery made by local sellers in local styles, whereas the rest of the royal family seemed to be moving towards a Praythan blue, which the locals did not like. 

After two weeks, I was starting to really get into this princess role. It was probably getting to the time when I should go back to my reality - I was starting to get worried that time might have passed a little too far back there and I’d missed work or something. But despite all my background conspiracies and careful princess PR campaign, I was having the time of my life being a woman. Despite all the setbacks, despite Mirya’s own clear uncertainty about whether we’d be able to pull it off, I was getting ready to challenge the King’s pronouncement in the Grand Chamber, and trust that some supporters - known and unknown - would voice their concern with me. Things were looking up. I hadn’t been able to see Mirya as often as I’d liked, but she kept feeding me reports of favourable conditions; noblemen willing to put pressure on the king, concerns among the people about a soft Praythan takeover, things like that. Still, it made me sad to see her laughing and giggling with Robyn in the gardens, doing my stepsister’s hair and acting so dutiful in her presence.

It was another lonely night of me missing my lover’s presence when suddenly the door slammed open. Mirya was wearing a dark robe over her lady-in-waiting dress, and she looked to be in a total panic. 

“Dinah! My lady! We need to go, right now!”

I was only wearing my nightwear, but I immediately got out of bed, trusting her word. “What’s going on?” I asked, grabbing a nearby dress and coat to put on hastily. 

“It’s happening tonight. Lord Gerald is pressing your claim.”

“Without us!?”

“I’m sorry, my love. There was probably a miscommunication or something. But the King is about to be hit with a forceful proposal from your allies, Princess. We need to move right now.”

She helped me finish up my dress and quickly fixed my hair. I donned my tiara and we were quickly moving out of my area and towards the chambers of power. Sure enough, some figures were indeed moving, a number of them I recognised as nobles who were just as late to the party as I was.

“It’s actually happening,” I said excitedly, keeping my hood up just for now.

“Yes, I’m finally going to get what I deserve,” Mirya replied, grinning. 

We entered the main chamber. No doubt someone had already informed the King and the other members of the royal family. This was the moment. The white rock from which my family ruled in this story was about to be retaken, and not through force, but by clever diplomacy and non-violent pressure. I would fix my father in a way I had managed to achieve with my mother in real life. I would sway him away from that witch Drusilla, and I would earn my bloody happy ending . . . sans any blood needing to be spilled, of course.

The procession filled the chamber. Noblemen and women threw back their hoods. I recognised a number of them, including Librarian Fig from the Grand Library, and others like Lord Gregory and Felia Lionheart. I was in the middle of their throng: I’d lost track of Mirya upon entering, but the crowd pushed me towards the centre as they realised who I was. The King entered the chamber, and with him was Drusilla and Robyn. I couldn’t make out their expressions right away, but they didn’t look alarmed. Annoyed, yes, but not alarmed. Well, we’d give them something to worry about!

“A claim is to be heard, my King!” Lord Gregory announced. “We demand the proper claimant be given rights to the throne over any Praythan foreigner!”

“Hear hear!” a number of allies chanted.

The King gestured for calm. “Is my daughter among you? She who you would place upon the throne instead of my Robyn?”

The crowd parted, revealing me to his sight. I removed the coat to display my purple dress - the colour of royalty itself - and looked up defiantly at my father.

“You know you have broken tradition, my King” I said in a stern voice, though it didn’t sound that great. I still wasn’t particularly good at making my slimmer, shorter stature and more feminine voice sound intimidating. “Your Highness, we implore you to return things to the state of affairs they were before. The realm is with me.”

“Is that so?” King Alaric said. “Even your lady-in-waiting?”

I hesitated. What was he referring to? I went to open my mouth to speak, but suddenly Drusille made a gesture, and above, on the white rock of the chamber, emerged Mirya. She was . . . far more splendidly clothed than I had ever seen her. She looked like a-

“Lady Miyra Donava,” Robyn declared with a smile. “From your handmaiden to my handmaiden to a new lady of the realm, who thankfully informed us of a plot against the king, and apprised us of its growth.”

My jaw fell. The others looked around, clearly sensing the danger of this moment. The Queen raised her hand, a smirk upon her cruel lips, and suddenly the balconies above us were flooded with armed men. Some were Varkathian, but others were in the blue uniforms of the Praythan Holy Guard.

“By the Gods,” Gregory gasped. “It’s true. He’s sold out to the Praythans. The traitor king!”

“Silence!” the King declared.

“The man ruled by his own Praythan bitch!”

“I SAID SILENCE!” he screamed. “You have all betrayed me. Only a humble handmaiden dare reveal your conspiracy. She will be rewarded for it with a ladyship. You will lose everything.”

I had not stopped looking at Mirya. She noticed my gaze, and in that moment a knife fell down my throat and sliced its way through the bottom of my stomach, for the woman I thought loved me simply gave a shrug. As if to say, ‘sorry about cheating at Monopoly,’ or ‘sorry I took the last cookie from the jar, I really wanted it.’

“Mirya, how could you!?” I cried.

Again, that same shrug. “I told you. I wanted more. Don’t blame me for your naivete, Princess. Don’t-”

Suddenly, someone threw something from our crowd. It looked to be a vegetable of some kind, just an angry protest at my father selling out to a foreign empire. But it caused all hell to break loose, for the Queen’s response was immediate.

“GUARDS! AN ATTACK! KILL THEM ALL!”

I screamed with the crowd, as bows and crossbows shot forth arrows and bolts into our ranks. Men and women fell left and right, and suddenly I was running past the panicked and the injured, the screaming and the dead. We were in a killbox, and I was the best target of all. I ran for the door, terrified. Would I die for real? What would happen to the other me? Was there even a real me? This felt far more dire and real than anything I’d experienced in my regular male life. My thoughts scattered all over the place. Arterial sprays soaked my dress. A woman was brought down by a bolt to the neck right in front of me. There was so much screaming, so many screaming, and I was the loudest of them all.

“SHE’S GETTING AWAY!” the Queen roared, just at the edge of my hearing. “SHE IS NO LONGER A MEMBER OF THIS FAMILY! EXECUTE HER!”

I reached the doors and pushed through them, and started to run for dear life.

To Be Continued . . .