Page 15 of Of Skulls Of Shackles

“You speak of the fool King Bring,” said Princess Change as she joined me in the rooftop garden.

I had pondered where to meet a monster of ruin who numbly tended to the haunted forest of her wretched king. Change, studiously numb to all, ironically spent her days pushing life into a kingdom. Of course she took care to uphold an unnatural look to the place, but that only spoke of her care. Far easier to grow a wild forest.

Princess Change had capacity to love, and I had not witnessed that in her king.

So here we would meet, in a garden. All the better to undo her.

I glanced up from my favorite bench seat and tried not to shudder at the scars that were so deep that her face appeared melted in parts—her eyelids stretched tight, and her nose had peeled back. There was no purpose in such a sight, for if there was monstrous purpose in her scars and mange, then I would feel joy upon viewing her. I felt revolt. “Good evening, Princess Change. Please sit while I pen a letter.”

She sat on the second bench that Mother had pushed up for the occasion. As a writing desk appeared before my bench, I took out paper, quill, inkpot and wax seal.

And I watched the princess with part of my mind.

As I started to scratch out a reply, I saw her eyes drift to the black hellebores stroking my feet, next to the blood-red roses behind me with thorns like daggers.

King Bring,

I apologize for the tardiness of my letter. New queendom occupies much of my time, and I confess that I had to meditate deeply on the matter of union with you.

Will you meet me for a walk amongst the growing grains, as we once did? There is that which we must speak of.

Queen Perantiqua

I should not drag him along so, but a tribunal did not suit me yet. Unfortunately for King Bring, I knew his rhyme and reason. This letter would give me one week, during which time he would convince himself that I intended to accept his princess proposal. I could not, as a queen, but that impossibility was lost on such a king.

“Toil, Hex, Sigil,” I called.

They blinked into the garden, and I stuck my letter to Toil. “Please deliver this.”

I made sure to look nervous and a little demure. They would no doubt repeat such things to encourage their liege with his plots and plans.

“At once, my queen,” Toil said grandly.

They bowed and departed.

And as that had happened, a princess had lost much of her numbness, and currently inspected a sprawling groundcover with heart-shaped leaves with great interest.

I would not look at her, then she might waste less of her time on appearances. “Thank you for waiting.”

“I am here for one week. I care not how that is spent.”

I arched a brow. “Not even in saving?”

“’Tis to be expected.” A haunting returned to her voice. “Will you reveal the reason for my visit today?”

“No, Princess. I will not do that.”

“So be it.”

I peered out across my queendom, past the wall of bars to where my sixth must be tucked up in their thatched homes. Picket was out there with brick and mortar, and he had to stretch his rope quite tall nowanights to add height to the wall that was twice the height of my tallest seeing princes.

How tall would he make it? I should not like to lose the moonlight. “You are patient,” I murmured to her. “And I have observed this of your king. Then again, I have seen your beautiful, haunted forest. The monster who tends to that must possess undying patience.”

She glanced at me. “My forest is not beautiful. It is woeful.”

“I have seen it, and I saw its unnatural uniformity, and I felt its eerie design. These are beautiful qualities.”

“I would expect this comment from a saving queen.”

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