Royal Blood

Marie Mayer
4 min readMar 8, 2022

A mystery

Vitolda Klein on Unsplash

“Ow!” I cringed in the mirror. “Motherf — “

“Language Miss,” Natalia scolded. She continued to tease my hair to the high heavens before I could adjust my tiara.

“Aren’t we done yet?” I moaned. What Natalia delivered in pain, I liked to pay in attitude. For the last two days I knew nothing but pain. Pain and vanity of the highest degree. High heels, bikini waxes, bleached hair, spray tan, enough product to achieve the plastic face of a Malibu Barbie. I’d light a cigarette if my head weren’t being showered with hairspray.

“Do you want to make an impression or not dear?” she said.

“Not as much as I’d like a cheeseburger,” I muttered.

“Fifteen minutes your majesty!” exclaimed Anastasia. My other lady in waiting brought me my steaming cup of herbal tea.

“It tastes like a hot sock,” I mumbled.

“Drink, you need your strength,” she chimed in her usual upbeat voice.

“God knows it’s all I’ve consumed in the past twelve hours,”

“Drink,” Natalia ordered. She applied my plum lipstick to her own perfectly lined lips.

Yes, I’m a legit princess. I have the tiara, the palace, the ladies and the emotional baggage to prove it. Until that evening, my life was a scripted, planned and secure dream I couldn’t wake from if I tried.

That was about to change the moment I waltzed like a Kennedy into the lit-up ballroom. With all eyes and lenses on me, I was unaware of the freakish bloody horror awaiting me outside.

I flashed my most plastic fantastic smile as cameras flashed and people cheered. There were countless guests dressed in black tie, seated at tables decorated with rose bouquets and glasses of champagne. The rest of the place was littered with reporters who would claim to not be with TMZ.

I hadn’t the slightest idea what company awaited me at that party. I had the strangest feeling someone was staring me down from above. That was when I glanced up and saw him there. He was staring at me over the thick balcony railing. Being used to the inappropriate gaze, I didn’t want to think anything more of it. Even when I turned away, I could feel his stare and his ear-to-ear grin. I looked…

Marie Mayer

Writer of short stories both real and imagined.