Chapter 89

Ruby

“Wake up, Ruby! Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

I’m awoken by Tamara, who is jumping excitedly on my bed. When she sees my eyes open, she falls down to her knees next to me, giggling.

“Merry Christmas, little rabbit,” I say, reaching out and pinching her cheek.

The sun has just barely begun to rise, but Tamara is already wide awake, excited to see what gifts Santa Claus has left for us. Soon, I think she’ll stop believing in Santa, although admittedly I dread those days. Seeing the magic in my little sister’s eyes every Christmas, even when we were living in poverty and I could barely afford a single gift, has been what has made me still love Christmas even after our parents died.

My mind flickers briefly to the brooch and the oddly familiar mystery buyer from last night, but I decide not to let it bother me. It’s just a brooch; sure, it was a valuable artifact, but it’s okay. I know that my mother wouldn’t have been upset with me for selling it like I did. I know that she would understand my circumstances at the time.

“Come on!” Tamara says, grabbing my hand and practically pulling me out of bed; she’s grown so much stronger now that her injuries from the Rogues in the tunnel seem like ancient history. She still has a slight limp and will likely have it for the rest of her life, but it doesn’t seem to slow her down any.

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” I say with a smile, throwing the covers off of myself and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I quickly comb my hair and brush my teeth before putting on my silk robe and slippers, then follow Tamara out of my room and down the stairs to the parlor.

At the beginning of December, Atwood had his men cut down a massive fir tree and drag it into the castle. They put it up in the parlor and I watched as the servants carefully decorated it with lights, tinsel, garlands, and sparkling ornaments. Looking at it now, it’s a far cry from the tiny little shrubs that Tamara and I used to take from the forest around our village.

Atwood is already in the parlor. He’s still in his pajamas and robe too, with his black hair pulled back into a low bun and a cup of steaming tea in his hand. Even in his pajamas, he looks incredibly handsome.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a smile. Tamara runs past him in awe of the Christmas tree and all of the presents underneath.

“Look, Ruby!” she says excitedly. “Santa brought so many presents!”

“He sure did,” I respond. But I’m not looking at the presents; I’m looking at Atwood. I mouth the words “thank you”, to which he simply smiles and nods.

Soon enough, the Queen and Edith make their way into the parlor as well. They’re both fully dressed and made up as though they’re going out, and look at Tamara and I with a new level of disgust.

“Good morning,” Atwood says, standing and crossing over to his mother. He kisses her politely on the cheek and gestures for them to sit, then turns to look at me. He must see the pained expression on my face.

“Ruby, help me get the coffee, will you?” he says.

“Ruby can do it on her own,” the Queen chimes in angrily. “A king should never serve anyone.”

Atwood simply ignores her and places his hand on my back as he guides me through the double doors at the back of the room that lead to the kitchen.

“I know it hurts that they’re here,” he says quietly once the doors close behind us, holding me by both shoulders. “But I won’t let them ruin your morning. I promise. When we go back in there, I’m going to confront them.”

“And then what?” I ask. Admittedly, I’m a bit angry at the situation. “Why now? Why confront them on Christmas instead of earlier?”

“Christmas morning is when they’ll least expect to be confronted. And then… they’ll be banished,” he whispers. “Forever.”

“Even the Queen?” I respond.

Atwood nods. “All of them.”

I let out a sigh of relief. The stress of it all is almost over; I just need to get through the next few minutes, and then it will be done.

Atwood and I prepare the coffee in a luxurious silver coffee set and place it on a tray. As I’m about to pick up the tray to carry it back into the parlor, he stops me with a smirk and reaches into a cabinet to pull out a small vase.

Inside the vase, there is a single red flower.

“Toxic ashroot?” I ask incredulously. I didn’t know that he saved a flower.

He places the vase on the tray with a grin. I can’t help but smile back, somewhat turned on by his devious behavior. He almost looks like a little boy who is about to do something incredibly naughty.

Unable to help myself, I grab Atwood’s robe and pull him down so that I can kiss him. He stumbles forward, placing his hand on the wall behind me and pinning me against the wall as we kiss deeply for several long moments.

Finally, he pulls away. I can feel that my face is hot and flushed from the kiss, and my panties are a little wet.

Composing himself, Atwood picks up the tray and motions with his head for me to open the door.

When we re-emerge into the parlor, the Queen and Edith are standing again. They’re putting on their coats as Tamara sits on her knees in front of the Christmas tree, looking somewhat confused.

“We’ll return later,” the Queen says nonchalantly as she buttons her coat. “We’ve decided to go on a drive.”

“And miss Christmas morning?” Atwood says, setting down the tray of coffee. “Where are you driving to?”

Before she answers, the Queen’s eyes flicker down to the vase. I can see her face turn red and her eyes widen, even twitching slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Atwood implores. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The Queen clears her throat, her voice shaking as she replies. “N-Nothing,” she says. “Bad night of sleep, that’s all. Just a bad night of sleep.”

“Is that so?” Atwood crosses the room and circles around the Queen and Edith to stand between them and the door. Edith looks just as frightened as the Queen; there is no doubt in my mind that she was also completely aware of the poison.

“Yes,” the Queen replies, smoothing down her coat. “Now if you’ll please move out of the way-”

“SIT DOWN!” Atwood’s voice booms so loudly that the coffee cups on the tray rattle slightly. Tamara looks up at me, frightened. I hold my hand out for her and she stands, running over to me and wrapping her arms around me as I stroke her hair comfortingly.

The Queen and Edith both do as they’re told without hesitation. I can see them both quaking with fear as Atwood walks over to them.

“You know what that is, don’t you?” he says, pointing to the vase.

The Queen shakes her head vehemently. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she says, her wrinkly neck wobbling as she speaks. “In fact, I’m quite appalled at this behavior. I’d never expect such treatment from my own so-”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Atwood says. His orange eyes burn with a fury that I’ve never seen before. “You were going to poison Ruby, just like you poisoned Vivian.”

The Queen doesn’t answer. Atwood paces back and forth in front of the door, his fists balled up at his sides.

“Why?” he says suddenly, turning toward the Queen. Aside from the anger in his eyes, there is something else: pain. Pain from the loss of Vivian. Pain from the potential to lose me. I want to go to him, but I don’t.

The Queen clears her throat and stands, apparently having regained some confidence.

“I never wanted you to be King,” she growls. “It should’ve been Paine.”

“So you poisoned my wife for it? And now you attempt to poison Ruby? Why not just kill me?”

“I couldn’t possibly kill you,” the Queen replies. “It wouldn’t be right of a mother to kill her son… So Alice and I decided that the best plan of action would be to keep you from having a mate, so that eventually you would go mad and turn into a Rogue.”

The Queen looks at me next, pointing a spindly old finger at me. “And then this bitch ruined all of it by marking you. I wouldn’t have poisoned her if she had just run away that night. I would’ve let her go. And then she marked you, even though I tried to scare her away with the ‘curse’. I knew that she would have to die after that, just like the first Luna. It was the only way.”

“You loved Vivian,” Atwood says, his voice so low it’s practically a whisper.

“I did!” the Queen says. “She was the epitome of the perfect Luna. But you… you will never be fit to be King.”

There is a long silence. Tamara nuzzles into me, whimpering. Atwood looks at me; I nod silently, as if to say “it’s time”.

“Guards!” Atwood shouts. The doors immediately swing open from behind him and in pour six fully-armed guards. Edith and the Queen both scream and attempt to run through the kitchen, but there are guards stationed at those doors, too.

It’s all a blur. The guards descend on Edith and the Queen, placing them in handcuffs.

“The dungeons, my Lord?” one guard asks.

Atwood shakes his head. “No, not the dungeons. Lock them in their rooms. I want two guards posted at all times.”

“How could you do this?!” the Queen cries. Her neat bun has fallen loose so that hair now falls around her face, making her look crazed while Edith sobs miserably next to her.

“You and your minions are henceforth banished from this kingdom,” Atwood growls, crossing the room to stand between me and the Queen. “I want you gone by this time tomorrow morning, or I will have you executed.”

With a nod, Atwood dismisses the guards. They escort Edith and the Queen out of the parlor, their screams fading away as they are taken to their rooms. Noah, who I hadn’t noticed before, still stands in the doorway.

“Did you find Alice?” Atwood asks.

Noah shakes his head solemnly. “No, sir. We’ve searched every inch of the castle grounds.”

“Keep searching,” Atwood responds. “Make sure she’s shipped off with the rest of them.”

“Yes, sir,” Noah says, then leaves the room, closing the double doors behind him.

The parlor is quiet and peaceful again. Tamara is still clinging to me.

“It’s alright,” I say quietly, crouching down and brushing a piece of hair out of Tamara’s eyes. “They’re gone now.”

“Yes,” Atwood says, crouching with us and wrapping his arms around both of us. “Let’s enjoy our Christmas.”