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The hare stopped by Emily’s room later in the day. She’d read through the contract twice and was still unsure about it.

“It seems pretty straightforward.” He nibbled on his lip. “Those exiled after the civil war will be allowed to return via the gate you entered the Sidhe, if you kill the queen. There’s some legal fancy talk in there, but nothing looks off.”

In a burst of inspiration, Emily took a picture of the contract while the hare held it flat. She watched anxiously as it developed.

“There’s symbols on it like what showed up on the walls of the monastery, I mean, the institute.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do they mean anything to you?”

The hare tapped on each symbol with a nail as he described it, “wards against tampering, binding sigils and the king’s seal. All above board.” He looked at Emily, his round eyes showing concern. “You’ve just got to sign it now.”

“I don’t want to kill the queen, this is crap.”

“I know.”

Emily sighed, her pen hovering above the contract. “Well, fuck it. It’s what I was made for.” She scrawled her full name above the kings careful script and found herself back in the throne room.

The queen was sitting on the edge of the dais, hands still bound. In front of Emily was a tall chunk of wood with a curved depression hollowed into the top. It was, she realised, a chopping block.

“I’m so glad you agreed.” The king settled more comfortably on the throne. “I don’t know what we’d have done with you if you hadn’t. You could have found a place in the kitchens, I suppose, you seemed to enjoy the company. It certainly would have been embarrassing to go back to the mundane world a failure.” Emily couldn’t tell if he was gloating or was just naturally a prick.

The guard brought the queen to the block and made her kneel facing away from it.

“Let’s get this done then.” The king sounded bored, as though having his wife killed was one more bit of everyday business. “I hear you have a sword, which is convenient. I hope for my wife’s sake that it is sharp.” The guard laid the queen back, her spine arched as the back of her neck rested against the hollow of the chopping block.

With shaking steps, Emily drew her sword and approached the queen. The glow of the blade lit the queen’s face softly.

“Do I get any last words, hateful husband of mine?” Her voice was soft and strong.

“Of course.”

The queen locked her eyes on Emily and held her gaze by force. “Child, I pity you.” Her laugh was strained by how she was forced to lay. “Do you know why those people of yours were exiled?” Emily shook her head slowly and the queen laughed again. “Because they were my ‘agents provocateur’. They helped me start the war and win my place by the throne. But you can’t trust people like that, so I banished them to a place where they could do me no harm. Your silly aunt trusted them to the end, promising she’d help them understand the hell they were being sent to.” She closed her eyes briefly and sighed. “Fat lot of good that did me.”

“Are you done?” The king’s voice startled Emily from the sinking realisation of what the queen had said.

“Yes, I’ve said my piece.” The queen smiled wickedly at Emily. “Kill me any time, child.”

Emily looked at the sword in her hand. She was about to kill a person she didn’t know because a bunch of other people’s manipulations and lies. They didn’t deserve to return to the Sidhe.

The king spoke softly, “you signed a contract.”

Emily thought of Janice and the children, other people unknowingly locked into the whole stupid thing along with her. Before she could think about it more, Emily brought the sword down. It sliced cleanly through the milky neck of the queen.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.