Page 41 of Of Skulls Of Shackles

the poetry

of balance

and symmetry.

Whoosh—click.My floating gait held an agitation that I did not wish Bring to fathom. This would be a pesky meeting in growing grains with a pesky bringing king. He was an imbecile, surely.

Though, my mood colored my thoughts of him too. The first lesson in war with See had ended in him gazing upon my naked form as the candlelight died. He had viewed my nakedness before, but I had not witnessed his face during those exchanges.

The intensity of his expression had rattled me. Enough that I had demanded he leave. He had left without any convincing.

For he, too, had glimpsed something to fear onmyface.

We would devour each other. That is what I saw on his face. Half the time—perhaps more than half—I wished for such a devouring fate. To end that way… what uncertain ecstasy in heart’s peril.

Now my mind was awhirl with See, and he had no doubt planned to put me in such a state for the meeting with Bring. I lusted painfully for a chalky king with too much sight and connection in my affairs.

He would be my doom.

I took a breath and held it, then—oof—exhaled in a rush.

“My queen,” sniffled Unguis, who prowled behind me. “Do the grains affect your breathing too?”

Huckery scoffed. “She is undone after a lesson with King See, nothing more.”

Huckery was somewhat of a prince among pawns indeed. “I am that, and so I would find calm before a meeting with another king, who will grow agitated if he senses my agitation due to King See.”

Loup said kindly, “Worry not about your agitation, Your Majesty. He will smell the truth.”

I groaned inwardly. The reassurance he had intended did not eventuate. Though Loup had just called me “Your Majesty,” and I could not recollect him doing so before. “Thank you, Loup.”

They padded after me as I strode toward Bring’s kingdom. I had not arranged to meet the king halfway, but of course we would.

In the next thoroughfare between towering apartment buildings, I spotted the king sitting on a bench and staring at the growing millet.

“Wait here, please.”

“Have you considered—” started Huckery.

I glanced back. “It is likely that I have, Huckery, in that I am a queen.”

He stopped talking.

“Do you trust in my connections?” I asked him.

The werebeast regarded me. “More every dusk. I met you as a mere monster and now you are a queen who holds her own against kings.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest. Such praise from Huckery was praise indeed. I nodded at him, then left the werebeasts to approach a king.

This king still wished me for princess, and I sensed that no matter his fury, I could reverse the damage done by agreeing to princessdom—in the same way any woman might sense such a thing. But I had greatly angered him. And he had greatly angered me with this farce where I had apparently given him my word to join in union. He knew this was untrue, as did I.

Except truth did not really matter when others only had to be convinced of the lie.

“King Bring,” I said. “How do you fare?”

The bringing king of crimson skin wore his black long coat. His low-brimmed hat shadowed his face. I had never seen him wear a hat. And for the first time since knowing him, the king also wore a tunic that covered his second mouth.

There was a… hunch in his posture that screamed of a lessening of kingliness.

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