Another journal

You can find all the sections here.

Emily felt like a cartoon animal that had run off the edge of a cliff, leaving its skin behind as it plummeted. “Kill her? Dead?”

“That’s normally how the process works, even for the Folk.” The king’s eyes were laughing. “I can’t kill her myself because she’s my bride, but I would like her dead. It shouldn’t be that difficult for you, since she’s the one who marooned your people in the mundane world and brought about the war that killed your parents.”

“You can’t kill your bride, but you can kill your own brother?” Emily couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“I didn’t kill him, he was killed. There’s a key difference that’s fuelled monarchies for ages. But it doesn’t matter what the rules are, I could want her dead because that’s my whim. The point is, the price for what you ask is her death by your hand.”

Emily glanced at the queen. She didn’t seem to care that she was the subject of conversation and stared across the room, looking bored.

“I want it in writing.”

“What?” The king raised an eyebrow.

“I said I want the deal in writing. And before you ask—no, I don’t trust your word. Not with what’s at stake. I want to look over the written contract at my leisure before I sign, if I sign.” Emily tried to project confidence.

“You sure do want a lot for somebody already making a heavy deal.”

“It’s part of the package. Any deal maker of worth wouldn’t blink at what I’m asking unless they were trying to screw me over.” Emily folded her arms over the crashing, empty space in her middle. “Are you trying to screw me over?”

The king glared at her and then Emily was in her room at the castle, a clearly lettered scroll on the table beside her. With surprisingly steady hands she unbound the scroll and began to read it.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.