“Yet, she is,” he assures me, his tone glib and dismissive. “You will see.
Then, he turns to my servant. “Ah, Door Gravel, bring the Eryx Oblation a plate of meat. Cooked, of course. Humans have exceedingly weak digestive systems.”
“Right away, Former Majesty,” the Door Gravel says with a quick curtsy.
But before she can rush away, I stop her.
“Door Gravel, I also have some special instructions...”
Discovery
SALLIE ROSE
As representativesof the royal family, Aralyssean palace servants are given exactly two sets of livery: beige gowns for women whose palace jobs don’t involve cooking or cleaning, and beige coats and tails for the men.
It is strictly forbidden for attendants to the royal family to wear any kind of jewelry, lest we be mistaken for royals ourselves—a scandal of the highest order.
But the morning after I “confess” to being Princess Seraphyne, I wake to find my first piece of jewelry has been placed upon my wrist while I slept.
A shackle. Made of obsidian and attached by a chain to a wall.
Oh, look. My first bracelet ever.My severely short life as the Stone Bride Princess of Aralysse Eryx Oblation Tribute thingie is off to a great start.
I sit up and groan under the effort. After a cross-country carriage ride, a sky flight, and matless sleep, I’m sore everywhere. Also stiff, thanks to the castle’s extreme cold.
Lunaterra might enjoy temperate weather with no winter, but in here, it’s so cold I can see my breath.
Wait—I canseemy breath!
The realization that I’m no longer sitting in pitch darkness lifts my eyes. I take in the room I couldn’t see last night.
The Stone Fae King called it his sleeping quarters, but there’s no bed that I can see. The room is large and empty, save for a throne sitting directly across from where I lie. It appears to be carved entirely from red crystal, jagged and gleaming like a crown of spears. Spikes rise at odd angles behind it, catching what little light there is and scattering it in crimson shards across the stone floor.
It doesn’t look like a seat so much as a threat—something made to intimidate rather than comfort. The surface pulses faintly, as if the throne was forged from magma and magic and cold-blooded rule. A sword nearly as tall as the throne rests beside it, plunged into a matching crystal base.
The entire thing radiates menace.
And, apparently, this is where the Stone Fae King sleeps. Though I can’t see any sign of him.
The only thing in the room other than my pee bucket is a statue with its back to me, standing before a gigantic arched window along the castle’s exterior wall. Large stone wings block me from seeing anything but the back of its head and—okay—an extremely impressive pair of buttocks perched atop some seriously well-muscled legs.
The artist must be a huge fan of anatomy. Their detail work is beyond amazing. There’s even a tail with a pointed tip curled around one calf.
Wait, do the Stone Fae have tails?
Either way, in your bedroom window feels like a strange place to put a naked statue. But maybe it’s like the woodenfigures they put in the shop windows in Pridehaven, the nearby capital city of Solmane. Just, you know… without the clothes.
Too bad my new jewelry won’t let me go take a closer look.
But wait. I don’t necessarily have to stay here. Remembering the secret weapon I managed to score yesterday before we left Elephim, I reach into the dress’s pocket (thank goodness I decided to include one!) and bring out the plant I pulled from the ground—technically a weed, but hey, a plant is a plant when you’re working with heavily human-blood-diluted earth and light magic.
Speaking of which, just enough of the suns’ light from the window drifts far enough into the shadowy chamber for me to pull it for an intention spell.
I insert the tip of the weed into the lock and close my eyes, letting the plant feel my will while my magicking hand moves on to a binding spell.
The weed twists and slithers into the obsidian mechanism, and in the next moment, the jeweled shackle loosens with a softclick.
I’m so proud of myself for using magic to get free, it almost makes up for the pain that flares through my muscles as I climb to my feet.Moist, I’m sore.
