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Queen of Swords: a novel

Chapter XIX – The Star

That night I dreamed about you. In the dream you were a rowboat and I was the ocean; I was a castle and you were a massive, cut-glass chandelier. I was the moon and you were the stars.
It was one of those pleasurable dreams you think you can control, a dream where I sat on my throne and said “Show me. Please me.”

But your spirit invaded my dream and took control. I saw you as a child; I became you, but I was also an observer above the scene. I felt your terrible fear as I saw your devil-worshipping father holding a frog gigger like a miniature pitchfork. I felt the pain and he used it on you head. I felt the warm blood running down my face. When I forced myself to wake up, the blood turned into tears.
Do you know how long it’s been since I wept? When a Queen weeps, a universe sorrows with her. I felt the yearning of your heart that your father must die.

I awoke a different person. I had already traveled a small way towards rescuing you, and I will go further. I owe it to you. Last night transformed me, freed me; more than the death of my stepfather, more than leaving home, more than the extinction of mentor, more than coming into my money or even buying my perfect house. These had were just steps on a ladder – you are flight. Neither of us needs “steps” once we are airborne. Our throne is of the air. It was as if I had lasik surgery and no longer needed a crutch. The Queen weeps. The Queen can fall in love. For the first time in her life, when she finds a worthy knight.

I used to see my loneliness as freedom. It isn’t. You want a gift from me; the gift of your father’s death. He’s locked up in a SuperMax so that’s a conundrum I haven’t yet solved. But by the time the trial ends, I will have. Sometimes you simply have to cut your way through a troublesome problem.
I long to introduce you to the power of magic. The power of magic is the power of substitution. We must agree on a vessel acceptable to you into which your father’s spirit can be drawn. And we must arrange a time, a place, a method for sacrifice. Believe me, you must trust that that will heal you. It will be your father’s own blood with which I will adorn your face.

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