Page 124 of Of Brides Of Queens

The sweetest sound of death.

I released Princess Change in a daze to obey the hammering wonder of my heart that told me to touch trembling fingertips to vibrant dusk. “What flowers are these?”

“Black strawflowers and roses.”

Her numbness suggested that she had accepted the ruin of this situation.

I licked my lips. “What do they mean?”

“Strawflowers speak of immortality,” she answered without feeling. “Black roses signify the ruin of my king and the dishonor of monsterdom.”

I could thank the strawflowers for the transcendent rustle. The roses for the aroma, even dried and ancient as they were.

“I will take them now,” I hushed. Princess Change remained limp under my grip. Princess Raise did not return to help and watched us from a crouched position.

But then a roar shook the world, much as my mad obsession had just done.

The roar was familiar and gave me pause. Throughmymad obsession, I felt something else, and that should not be an easy feat. “Who is that?”

“’Tis King See,” called Princess Raise. “He is in a grand fury.”

I had left him at my queendom. Perhaps I had forgotten him in my haste, but I could not fathom that my absence might have put him in such a shattering fury.

His fury was rarely raised by anyone other than me, however.

I reached into Princess Change’s gardening apron and eased free her bridal bouquet. My stitched-on fingers wrapped around the stems, and my insides warped and shook and quaked.

I sighed and groaned, and the towering apartment buildings around us were dragged toward me until the sound trailed off. I was adhered to the ground, and the sheer magnitude of world itself flowed in and out of me. The third bridal gift had prepared me for such an ancient experience, and this time, I could feel the ancient beast in me waiting to strike.

I had some time—a very little time—to get to my mother’s grave.

There I would hide my fourth bridal gift.

There I must tumble through black hellebores to cure the ancient insanity that would come soon.

Power tremored in the wings of my mind in readiness of blasting my skull apart from the inside out.

Princess Raise remained crouched. Her face conveyed that she was suddenly unsure of the gamble she had taken on me.

She had seen the real monster of me. Her doubts were too little and too late.

“Thank you, Princess Change,” I said, standing. “I look forward to meeting you under less violent and thieving and conniving circumstances.”

She remained still. “This is why you invited us to a royal dinner affair.”

I considered that. “Yes. One reason. Good evening.”

Princess Raise fell into step behind me as I strode to the heart of Vitale and to my queendom. A desperate panic to reach Mother’s grave had taken up residence in me. I almost preferred mad savagery to this. I broke into a run. “Thank you for delaying her.”

“We made a deal.”

I glanced at her. “And still you did not need to delay her. I hope that does not come between you.”

She lifted a shoulder, faceless as ever. “Princesses are rather good at forgiveness. Grudges are the things of kings, and perhaps a queen. I do not know on that score.”

I did not care to speak of grudges. “I must move faster now. Panic fills me.”

“I will follow.”

---