Outside the Realm of Man,
Four Queens Rule the Land
One of Water,
Born of Hatred a Cruel Male’s Daughter
One of Fire,
Protected Under Exile From Her Empire
One of Blood,
Forgotten Faith of Falsehood
One of Magic,
A Monster Within Itself Tragic
Spurning the Empires Unite,
Darkness Consumes the Light
All Realms Will Fall,
Sickness Upon All Will Befall
A King Will Make Himself Known,
No True Claim to the Throne
Until Rightful Heirs Return,
Creatures of Magic Will Burn
One Pure Sacrifice,
Realm Born Shall Pay the Price
Age Old Prophecy
Author Unknown
"That's such a pretty name," a male voice tells me and then goes on to attempt the pronunciation. I found it rather amusing...the first ten times today. As this is my twenty-second, I'm slightly annoyed.
"It's Eurybia, but you can just call me Rubi," I say brusquely. I inwardly curse the obtuse, paranoid cruise line. They could have let me shorten my name this morning before this speed dating thing began, but no. It's “against protocol,” so people can't give out false names, they said. It'll be a great icebreaker, they said. My frustration would be enough to melt any ice at this point. As if in example, the guy in front of me stops talking. He's looking at me like he's expecting an answer. I didn't even hear the question, so my eyes widen displaying my confusion.
He casts me a wary glance. "Well, it was nice to meet you Rubi. I think I'm going to head out for some fresh air."
I watch as he swaggers out the door and almost feel a moment of regret. He's easy on the eyes and dresses like he's made of money, but just like the rest of the men in my life, there was no connection. Maybe I just missed my calling somewhere else, and this is what I'm stuck with.
Allowing myself a small pity party, I bask in the nothingness that makes up Eurybia Murphy. Low class, little orphan Rubi. Living in the biggest shit hole of an apartment that New Orleans has to offer. Absolute crap paying job in retail, where I met my one and only friend Tori. What a wonderful friend she is too. She's the one who booked me on this stupid cruise to begin with. And this is getting me nowhere. Pity parties are for people who don't have an open bar tab and a bubble bath waiting for them back in their stateroom. Suck on that life. While I'm at it, you're welcome Mr. Sexy Whatever Your Name Was. I saved you the heartache that is Rubi Murphy.
"And on that note," I say right before I guzzle the last half of my mojito. A few sets of male eyes watch my actions and glaze over with lust. It's not hard to figure out why. They're hoping I'll get drunk and be an easy target for getting laid. Yeah, in their dreams.
I manage to escape the popular area with only having to dish out one brush off. Once I'm back in my room, I lean against the closed door and let out a sigh of relief. Promptly making my way over to the phone, I call for room service. When it finally arrives, I know the universe is against me. The man who drops my order off looks more delectable than the strawberries and champagne on the silver platter in his hands.
Of course, they've been schooled. "No conversation, no funny business and keep your hands off," I say with a small smile, quoting one of my favorite movies.
"I'm sorry, miss. What was that?" the good-looking steward asks.
Jeez he probably thinks I'm insane. "I was just saying thanks," I tell him as I hand over a few dollars.
"Thank you, miss," he says gratefully before leaving me staring at his retreating back.
I pick up one of the bottles and a bowl of bright red berries. Carting them off to the bathroom with me, I set them within reaching distance as I start the bath. When my toes touch the water, I let out a small hiss. It sends tingles all the way up to where I'm still slowly inching my skin in. Once fully submerged up to my neck, I force my mind to clear. None of my earlier pitiful musings are allowed here. In a completely classy move, I grab the champagne, put it to my lips, and upend it. I give no shits as to how this would look to anyone who should walk in.
Now, if only I could get that sexy steward back in here, I'd be set. My empty hand travels down below my belly button. The sad truth is, I probably wouldn't even know what to do with him. It truly has been so long that even I can't do it for myself anymore.
Growling in frustration, I slap the water sending it splashing in all directions. The bottle gets tilted back for a little longer this time when it touches my lips. Another ten minutes and the bottom of my first bottle has me questioning my IQ. Here I am, sitting alone on a twenty-five-hundred-dollar cruise, that cost all of my savings, filled with hundreds of eligible bachelors, complaining about not having a release in years. Oh, there's definitely something wrong with me.
"Screw this," I say to myself. Ignoring the sloshing of water everywhere, I stand straight up and reach for a towel. "I'm getting my money's worth from this trip," I mumble, not realizing my words are slurring. My feet slip a little, but I catch myself on the sink. Wiping the steam off the mirror, I set my hair and makeup right again. Walking to the closet gives me a small moment of panic. All I packed was decent dresses. No slut dresses until I remember the one Tori shoved at me when I saw her last.
Pulling the slinky black thing from the hanger, I feel skanky before even putting it on. This will get me laid tonight for sure. Thanks, Tori. Watching myself in the stand-up mirror connected to the back of the door, the upper thigh length, spaghetti-strapped dress fits me like a glove. The best feature about it, though, is it seems to change color when I turn. It goes from black to dark purple, to a bluish hue and back to black again. Tori had told me that it was meant to be owned by me considering my hair does the same exact color change in the light. Seeing it on me now, I don't think I could agree more.
Sealing the deal, my feet slip into a pair of five-inch, fuck me heels. I remember to grab my room key and do a double-take at the other bottle of champagne. I shrug and grab it too before walking out the door.
Ok, who is captaining this boat? There's too much rocking going on for a five-foot-five woman in high heels. At least that's what I'm going to blame my weaving through the halls on. In my wanderings, I forget which hall leads where, so I end up at the door leading to the deck outside. I huff in exasperation pushing the door open until the salty wind hits my face.
Getting lost has its perks. Where I'm standing on the deck, the railing looks straight down into the water. Lightning flashes somewhere in the distance, and I see a waterspout on the water. Even in my drunken state, it's one of the coolest things I've had the privilege to see in my lifetime. Leaning over for a closer look, the bottle in my hand catches on the rail and goes tumbling down to the deck. I try to save what little is left by quickly bending down to retrieve it. In my haste, I forget about the rail. Bam! The side of my forehead slams into the metal. Pulling back upright makes me dizzy as I feel warmth creeping down the side of my face. It's then that my foot slides in the mess on the deck. My hip bumps the rail and the next thing I know, I am submerged in a cold black nothingness.
From both the alcohol and the smack to my head, I am in a dazed fog. The only thing that registers is the fact that I am in the water and need to get to the surface unless I want to drown. Finally, when my lungs are giving out, my head breaches the surface. The first pull of air into my throat has me crying out in pain. It feels like I swallowed broken glass all the way down to my chest. I look all around me, but there's nothing but inky black water and the reflection of the stars. When I am finally able to see the cruise liner, my stomach empties itself into the water. How could it have possibly gone that far already? They didn't stop or sound an alarm when I went over. They will never know that I am out here until it gets back to port in four days.