Page 6 of Of Skulls Of Shackles

King Take could not resist that temptation.

I added, “You might inform Princess Take that if I must send a stitch to tug her here, then her king might be driven a step more toward ruin. She cannot risk that.”

The taking pawns bowed in unison.

The stairway pawns did the same. As did my bringing pawns.

Werebeasts did not deign to bow to me over an extended foreleg, but they departed with the others to deliver their letters.

My seeing pawns were confused.

“My queen,” said Is. “Our liege has no princess. Who shall we deliver this letter to?”

“Your letter is not intended for a princess.”

And here was the conundrum. Here was the predicament.

King See did not have a princess. There had never been a witness to the rhyme and reason of the king who saw past, present, and future. His war thinkings and habits were infuriatingly out of reach. In addition, this king saw a lot of me, so soon he would connect what I wished to extract from his thin, cruel lips.

Once he guessed, he would undoubtedly use the knowledge to better break my heart.

I said, “You will deliver your liege with my letter of demand.”

Princess Raise had helped me to craft together the legal document.

“Demand,” echoed Will Be, and in his chalky features, I could detect awe of my daring. To them, and to most pawns and princesses and kings, King See was fearsome indeed.

“Of demand,” I replied. “Your king owes me three lessons in war. I have come to collect.”

ChapterTwo

Hummings

Hushings

Iran my hands over black lace. I had noticed the uptick in the regality of Valetise’s designs. The sleeves of this corseted dress hung to the floor, and she had strung black lace from the points of my copper crown to hang in a small curtain. My breasts were pushed in the direction of my conservatory, but the satin rustle of the full skirt was enjoyable, and would grow more so with thewhoosh-clickof my floating walk.

“Will that be all, my queen?” Valetise murmured.

The haberdashery monster was exquisitely crafted with measuring tapes and magical threads and all manner of physical attributes that aided her purpose to arm my queenly fashion, but if needles stuck into thickly calloused forearms could droop, then I fathomed they were tonight. “Does something plague you, dear Valetise?”

“Boils and pus, my queen?”

“Not so literally. I speak of plagues of the heart.” I was increasingly aware of my queendom and all in it. Many aspects confused me, like the bizarre behavior of my clueless humans, but of two monsters I saw clearly.

Valetise fiddled with the tape measures that pulled in and out of her body.

I said softly, “I do not have policies against fraternization between monsters in my queendom, dear Valetise.”

She lifted her head. “This gladdens me greatly, my queen. That was my concern, I admit, for I have fraternized in my thoughts and words and even more in my dreams. ’Tis Picket, your ropey gateman. His fibers fill my mind and shackle my wrists and ankles.”

I did not need to ask what he shackled her to. “I imagine you would prefer his fibers filled more than your mind.”

Valetise blushed somewhat. Such a steely monster as she, and still a blush. How endearing. I felt better about the inky midnight that liked to betray my cheeks at times.

“I would, my queen. But Picket is a new monster—the newest of monsters. He believes a wardrobe dalliance would distract him from gate duty. When the sixth of King Change scaled his brick wall two weeks ago, he allowed the failure to tie him in knots.”

I blinked. I had noticed the new lumps and bulges in his rope body.

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