Page 20 of Of Skulls Of Shackles

A poem of how five soldiers came to be immortal kings. The newly arrived mother had just recited the very end of that poem. I had always believed that poem referred to kings and princes, particularly the ending where they must rule under the bloody finish.

“The poem also refers to me,” I said, and my voice rung out, covering the new mother’s moans as she dragged herself toward us through the haze.

She would come into sight soon.

Golden fate. Five powers. Olden. Throne.

There were many possibilities—too many to be sure of how to interpret their chant and the original verse of kings. The gateman’s verse was far easier to decipher. But one part was very clear. “Until ancient in truth, tarry not, linger never, lest the world becomes forever buried.”

The twelve mothers still stared at the gray, stormy sky, but Molly lowered her chin and said, “Feel no contentedness until the matter is done, daughter.”

Ihadfelt content to wait. I had seen the lulls between obsession as a chance to tidy up loose ends, like drawing King Change’s rhyme and reason from his princess and clearing the air with all princesses. “I am warned. What understand all of you of the rest?”

Molly returned her stare to the sky, and no mother answered, statues in their vigil.

A figure staggered through the last shroud of haze. I would never admit that the unknown of that haze filled me with stark fear. In my stitches, I knew that beyond the clearing of this tower existed a void that would seek to claim me forevermore. Retrieving Molly from close to the haze had nearly undone me. Something surely lurked in its foggy depths to make an ancient queen quail and shiver.

While my instincts were not always to be obeyed, in this matter I did not doubt them.

This mother did not have the grudging temperament of Molly. She stumbled all the way to me and fell into my arms. She was a beauty by human standards, and we shared long, blonde hair though little else. Her eyes were a rich brown, and her top lip was full and puffy. She was willowy, like a poppy in the breeze.

“I have you, Mother,” I whispered, lifting her to cradle the woman against my chest. “Thank you for returning to me.”

The mother licked her dry lips. “I would be with all mothers and all daughters in death. I am here.”

There was a hitch in her voice that spun my focus to the hazy outskirts again.

“Let’s get you stitched then.” I kissed her forehead, and the stitch on my ring finger—that I knew was very neat and filled with diligence—buzzed in recognition of its crafter.

Cassandra called, “We welcome Poppy, the forty-third mother.”

Then I was thankful indeed to Poppy, so aptly named, for no ancient purpose had filled her when she made the choice to wither. She had operated entirely in respect of her ancestral line. I had not ever considered withering, and there was a small shame in that when presented with so many women who had chosen that path.

Then again, I had always been meant to deny that fate.

Once Poppy was comfortable, I took up needle and stitch and speared the blunted end through Madison’s free palm. She did not wince, and neither did Poppy when I did the same to her. I drew through the thread and tied off the end, cutting the ends tidy with my fingernail.

“Thirteen mothers.”

“The others tarry,” said Adalina nervously.

I glanced at her. “They resist?”

Cassandra returned my stare. “This place offers them resistance.”

Tarry not. Linger never.

I stood. “I must return to the queendom. My steward and lady’s maid smelled looming obsession on me last night. I must question them further to trigger fate.”

“There is wisdom,” croaked Poppy. “And not merely the feeling of it.”

Up and out, weaves golden fate, feeling ancient in her wisdom.

I grimaced. “I have been arrogant in my new power and larger queendom, ’tis true. The chant of mothers has humbled me today and reminded me immortals are no more immune to the terrors of time than humans.”

The middle part of their chant remained murky, but as all things in monsterdom, I had no doubt my curiosity and obsession would reveal the whole soon enough.

I floated in my queenly walk to the grave, then turned to smile at Poppy. “Welcome, Thirteenth Mother. We are so happy to meet you again.”

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