Also, my bladder is now loudly registering its complaints. I knew I shouldn’t have drunk every drop of that large jug of water Doorrinthiah brought me, along with a tasty dinner of roast meat and bread, last night.
My eyes fall back on the pail. So the statue has to wait until after a bit of negotiation with my long dress and another shake and wait.
Even with only two more nights left to live, I desperately want a bath, but since there’s nothing other than the pail that I can see, I settle for going to check out the window statue.
“Well, hello again, King Super Villain.”
I let out a small laugh when I reach the front of the statue and realize it’s a rendering of the Stone Fae King. Though not exactly. There are no cracks running over his skin, and the glowing red orbs that haunt my dreams have been replaced by blank, gray, lidless ovals. Which probably means the Stone Fae can narrow their glowing eyes but not blink.
Just as I suspected.
This statue is turning into a bit of an anatomy lesson thanks to its complete nudity, save for the metal crest embedded in its chest. It gleams in the suns’ light.
I have to admit, the front is even more impressive than the back. This version of the Stone Fae King sports a well-carved, two-slab chest, with rows of finely etched abs underneath. Also…
My eyes drift lower, and I jolt at the sight.
Wow, as we say in the old language.
While I’ve never seen a male’s private parts in person, these strike me as… unusually large. A thick trunk framed by a heavy sack. The artist even went so far as to carve veins along its long shaft.
I have so many questions about the creation process behind this feat of art. Did the Stone Fae King pose for this? Or was the rendering a mix of the sculptor’s imagination and their desire to please the royal who commissioned their services?
My curious mind turns into curious hands. I run my fingers lightly over the statue’s chest. Despite the suns shining through the window, the stone remains cool to the touch.
“Is this really what you look like underneath?” I ask the Statue King aloud. “Or is this like when the king and queen ask the portrait artist to trim their waists and smooth out the wrinkles around their eyes and mouths?”
I hesitate.
But I can’t help letting my hand slip lower, down to the swell of flesh carved between the statue’s powerful thighs. “Surely this is an exaggeration.”
The statue just stares back, cold and impervious to my accusations. Its head is tilted down at an angle, much like the massive statues of the king and queen that loom over the kingdom’s gates, giving the illusion of judgment as you pass beneath theWelcome to Aralyssesign.
Only this statue is on the ground. All I have to do is rise up onto the tips of my slippered feet, using my hand against his chest to balance. And then I’m close enough to…
I press my lips onto his black mouth. It, too, is cold.
I lick along the seam. Just to see how deep the crevice goes. And though it’s only a statue—little different from the pillow I used to practice on back when I dreamed of being kissed by someone who saw the real me behind the beige dress—a bolt of lightning shoots through me. My stomach flutters, and my nipples harden beneath the too-tight fabric.
“Wow,” I whisper, lowering myself back to my feet. I give the statue a wry smile. “Not bad for a first and last kiss.”
Feeling slightly ridiculous, I step away. “But now it’s time for me to go. See ya later, Your Stone-Cold Majesty.”
With a mocking bow I never would’ve gotten away with back in Aralysse, I throw in a middle-finger salute (also not included in the 437-page palace servant’s manual on comportment and etiquette) before making my way to the door of the strange sleeping chamber.
I expect the hall to be bustling with Stone Fae servants and soldiers, like it was last night. But no…
The suns’ rays stream down through a long skylight carved into the castle ceiling, casting a beam across the corridor and revealing something I hadn’t noticed in the dark. The walls are lined with statues.
Dozens of them. All dressed in what looks like real clothing—organic fabrics, not chiseled stone. Robes, tunics, and even leather loincloths adorn what appear to be granite bodies. I must have missed them last night in all my fear.
There’s even one standing right next to the door that looks exactly like Doorinthiah, the servant who brought me food. Down to the black over-the-shoulder corset and long skirt, which seems to be part of a castle uniform, if the other statues standing next to doors are any indication.
But why make so many statues of your servants and soldiers? Is that, like, a thing here?
Okay, last night this weird statue business probably would’ve freaked me out. But only three more days until I give up my life in exchange for Aralysse’s continued well-being.
No, it’s not fair that the real Princess Seraphyne will get to enjoy the freedom I’ve dreamed about since I was five years old.
