Page 20 of Of Monsters Of Kings

The skull sat. Except his wooden chair was gone, and though my chest had loosened a fraction as he put more distance between us, the sight of his throne sank me into a heap on the stone floor. I cradled my injured arm close, eyes unblinking.

Thrones. Pelvises. Princes. Lilies.

Three weeks ago, this room was an old office space with a single chair, stool, and almost pristine carpet and painted walls. The skull had been smaller, then, his voice and presence more acceptable. Someone had pulled back the bloodied curtain, and I could see a second version of everything. Unless the horror climbing my body like vines was incorrect, this second version had always been here, masked from me. Which was the truth and which was pretend?

As the skull settled in his throne, I glimpsed the white around the legs. Bones. Any number of bones formed the base of his throne. Some newly white and some cracked with age. The bones piled to form a base held together with mortar. The backrest of the throne was made of interlocking rib cages, while splintered thigh bones fanned from the top in a savage statement of the skull’s danger, depravity, and power. The armrests were indeed made of skulls, and as the skull himself sat there, he toyed with a hole in an aged cranium under his left hand. “Is this the point? What flower did you see, Capable and Dependable?”

“Hellebores, I am told, sir. Sire.” How could I speak still? Shock. Denial. Confusion.

The skull stopped toying with the hole. “Hellebore. The cure of ancient insanity.”

“Sire,” Ox breathed. “Do you suppose?—”

“My fate is not to suppose, Hasbin.”

I didn’t much care what the skull supposed and didn’t. I didn’t much care about any of this. “Could you kindly tell me my fate?”

“There is no fate without possibilities,” he roared.

His roar shook the stone walls, dislodging dust and debris. I screamed, unable to prevent panic escaping my body.

The shaking stopped, and I squeezed my eyelids shut while my scrambled brain tried to right itself. My voice cracked as, for some reason, I said, “That is what I feared. That I am fateless.”

“She talks sense,” Stag said in awe.

Did I? I rather thought I’d spoken none.

Hasbin—Ox—crouched beside me, tilting my chin, and I looked into his eyes, which weren’t any discernible color. I’d seen a void in them once, but now I could see him within. That was a nice surprise.

“She is sensical,” he announced. “Able to hold a gaze yet.”

Sand Cat whispered to the king, “Sire, what would you have us do?”

“I would have you take her and the body away, Willboughy,” the skull said wearily. “There is no point to either. I care not for pelvises and hellebores today.”

Willboughy lowered his voice. “We would not leave you blind.”

“She is that which blinds me. The possibilities were there before, though not yours in her company, and all will be well again when she leaves and when you leave her company. Take her away. To where, I care not if she is but away from me.”

Ox hauled me to my feet, and I had no choice but to lean on him in my stupid state. “Where to, sire?”

The king hissed an exhale. “Ask her, Hasbin. Let it be her choice. Only, let this be the last time I see the pointless wench.”

I could only hope. He had a lot of quirks. Too many for my mind.

Hasbin half carried me from the throne chamber. Stag walked behind us, and Willboughy followed with my mother.

“Where will you take me?” I stammered, ignoring the altered appearance of the landing outside the skull’s throne chamber. The throbbing in my collarbone made it easy to keep my focus very small.

The three skeletons stopped at the top of the stairs, and Stag spoke first, “Where would you like to go, lady?”

“Iz…” Willboughy said under his breath.

“Kingsie told us to ask her,” Stag burst out. “Have you got a better idea?”

The skeleton crew turned to me, and their pinched brows told me no one had a better idea. The choice was mine, then, as their skull had said.

I supposed at nineteen, I might have a life ahead of me, though a tiredness filled me as if I’d lived many times already and shouldn’t be too concerned with another. The king didn’t care for pelvises and hellebores today, and neither did I, as it turned out.

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